Ollie didn’t remember moving his hand, didn’t remember Ty moving his.
Sound returned to the world in a crash of thundering heartbeats as blood pounded in his ears. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades. Without his conscious input, Ollie’s hips jerked.
Ty’s fingers squeezed tighter. His other hand clawed its way to Ollie’s waist, then up to his shoulder. Nails scored across the back of his neck, and Ollie bowed into it, his mouth falling open.
“Ty.”
His stomach clenched. The pressure around him had every nerve in his body primed for pleasure.
He wanted to see Ty’s first.
“You’re beautiful.” Ollie had no more control over his mouth than he did of his hips. Both were working without him now, intent on wringing every perfect note they could out of Ty’s perfect mouth.
Beautifulwas a stupid compliment. Ollie knew that. But he didn’t have any other way to describe how it felt to watch someone else beam with pride when his kid hit a baseball. What else would he call someone who invited a perfect stranger and his son to live in their house and made them feel like they were doinghima favor? Was there another word for a person who made every day brighter, warmer, more worthwhile?
It didn’t matter if the compliment fell short. Ty flushed darker anyway, almost writhing into the mattress. His eyes were hooded, pupils wide. Spit glistened on his perfect mouth.
“You’re so fucking hot. I want to make you feel so good.” Words kept falling out of him. His hands had gone to autopilot too. He released his grip on Ty’s fingers and pressed his thumb to Ty’s lower lip. He wanted to kiss him.
But he couldn’t bend like that and fuck like this, and he wanted to give Ty what he needed. “Ty, tell me how to touch you, baby.”
He didn’t expect Ty to exhale hard against his thumb and hook his long legs around Ollie’s back.Olliemight not be able to bend for that kiss, but Ty could bend fine. He curled his body under Ollie and pulled in with his thighs, and holygodshe was perfect. “Like this,” Ty said, half begging, as if he needed to, as if Ollie hadn’t just been waiting to give him everything he wanted. “Just—yeah.”
Ollie could read the play from here. He let his lips touch Ty’s in a series of fleeting, sipping kisses, all he could manage while thrusting into him, short, sharp jabs of his hips that punched ridiculous, obscene sounds from Ty’s lungs. They sounded as good as Ty felt around him, hot and slick. The air tasted like sex. Even the slight rasp of Ty’s stubble under Ollie’s lips when their kisses broke sloppy lit up Ollie’s brain like a drug.
He couldn’t last like this. His orgasm was clawing its way up from his balls, coiling like a spring, but Ollie fought it back. Not yet. Ty first.
“Like this?” Ollie breathed, nearly into Ty’s mouth.
Ty keened in response and ran his nails over Ollie’s scalp again. Ollie was a little worried he was going to develop a Pavlovian response that made it impossible to get a haircut in public. “Like—”
He dug his heels into Ollie’s ass, pulling him in tighter, directing his thrusts.
And then somethingclicked. Autopilot disengaged. Ollie had learned the terrain. He knew the controls.
Ty had shown him what he wanted, and now Ollie could give it to him—deliberately, consciously, continuously. The way he deserved. “There?” he asked, but he knew. He knew by the tension building in Ty’s voice and body, by the sharp stinging pain from Ty’s nails on his back.
And thank God, because Ollie couldn’t last much longer.
“God, you’re so good for me.” Okay, he still wasn’t in control of his mouth, but Ty didn’t seem to mind. Ollie got a hand under Ty’s thigh and pulled his leg higher, deepened the angle just so. Ty’s face wentslack and his eyes closed as his body tightened. He had to be close. God, please let him be close. “Wanna make you come, baby, how—tell me how to make you—”
He never got to finish the sentence. Anything else he might’ve said was lost in a shocked, almost hurt noise from Ty, and then his body clamped down tight and something hot spurted between them because Ty was comingnow—Ollie was fucking it out of him, thick white ropes of it. Ollie made a sound of his own and slid his hand between them, wanting to make it last and last, until finally Ty twitchedawayfrom his touch instead of into it.
Ollie did that.Ollie did that, and now he was hurtling toward his own orgasm, half out of his mind with pleasure.
“Ollie.” Ty’s voice was gravelly, low. Wrecked. He ran his fingernails up the back of Ollie’s neck again, into his hair, tugged him down. Kissed him.
Ollie’s orgasm shook out of him. He poured the sound into Ty’s mouth, trembling everywhere, in his shoulders and his knees and his lungs. The world went gray and fuzzy.
Touch returned first—the sensitive squeeze of Ty’s hole around his softening dick, the warmth of his breath against Ollie’s cheek, and the slow, purposeful tease of fingernails over his scalp. The rest came back all at once, so that Ollie was blinking at Ty’s hazy blue eyes and pink cheeks and smelling their sweat and hearing Ty’s soft, almost disbelieving laugh.
“The earth moved for you too, huh?”
Ollie didn’t have words yet. Gingerly, he reached down to grip the base of the condom and pulled out. He rolled over. Then he flailed for a Kleenex from Ty’s nightstand, flung the condom on it, and lay there for a moment, breathing at the ceiling.
His other hand was holding Ty’s again.
Finally he said, “I didn’t know it had stopped.”
