Carl’s jeans were also pushed out in the front, and he stood, letting Devon pull him toward the stairs. They stopped to grab Carl’s bag. “I have supplies in there,” he whispered.
“We won’t need them quite yet,” Devon replied.
Upstairs, Devon pushed the door of his bedroom shut behind them and locked it. He didn’t know why. They were alone in the house, but the sound of the lock clicking in place made the situation real. He was in his bedroom, rain pouring on the roof, clacking against the big window that looked out into the forested back yard, and Carl Pink was pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside.
Devon’s objection caught in his throat. He’d intended to start with fully clothed kissing, to get accustomed to the taste and smell of each other, to learn a little about how they interacted, but at the sight of Carl’s white chest and pink nipples, and the blond fuzz trailing beneath his jeans, all words died.
Carl, eyes trained on Devon, shucked his jeans, too, so that he stood there in white boxer briefs alone, the crotch distended and wet with pre-cum already.
“Christ,” Devon murmured, his own dick throbbing hard.
Carl lifted his arms in a shrugging motion, as if to say, “This is it, this is all I have.” Devon swallowed hard.
“You don’t have to get down to your underwear to learn to kiss,” Devon said, tugging his own shirt over his head and unbuttoning his jeans to let some pressure off. “But I guess we can.”
Carl grinned, and the electric shock of that smile hit Devon right in the solar plexus. His hands shook as he pushed his jeans down and off, and then the two of them sat in their underwear at the end of Devon’s bed.
He’d jerked off so many nights in this bed, in this room, but he’d never kissed a guy on it, not even once. In that way, Carl would be his first, too.
“So, uh,” Devon said, realizing the problem with being mostly naked when he was trying to instruct a newbie on the art of kissing. There was skin everywhere and all of it just within reach. How was he supposed to do this without just shoving Carl onto his back and humping against his leg?
Carl shifted beside him, obviously uncomfortable, gripping his own dick and squeezing it through his underwear. Devon watched as the wet patch grew bigger, and his own cock flexed, releasing a small pulse of pre-cum, too.
“This okay?” Carl asked, as he rubbed at his cock and gazed at Devon. His throat was already pink, and his chest was splotchy with a rosy color. His nipples were raised and hard, and Devon nearly swallowed his tongue when Carl pushed aside the opening in his underwear and pulled his cock out. It was pink, very pink, and the tip was shiny and glistening. Pinky’s one eye was leaking and making quite a sexy mess.
Devon licked his lips, clenched his hands into the comforter, and tried to get his head straight. Kissing. He was supposed to teach Carl about kissing. Fuck.
“Um, we should get dressed again,” Devon gritted out. “Otherwise, I don’t think this is going to go slow after all.”
“I’m okay with that.”
Of course Carl was okay with that! It was what he’d wanted from the beginning!
Devon reached out with a shaking hand, and said, “First, when you’re going to kiss someone, you should—” His eyes flicked to where Carl was stroking himself, the head of his cock peeking through the opening in his fist, and disappearing again. “Do you want to come first? So we can concentrate?”
Carl shook his head. “Kiss me. Just show me.”
Devon touched Carl’s cheek, surprised by the beginning of stubble on the otherwise smooth skin, and leaned in. Carl’s breath was hot on his lips. Devon felt the jerky movement of Carl’s arm as he continued to stroke himself. He could see how this would end, and he knew if he wanted to have any pretense of control for the rest of the weekend, he should make them both get dressed again, calm down, and take this slower—one step at a time, the way he’d imagined it would be.
But there was no ending it now. He was too aroused, and Carl was too turned-on. They were unstoppable.
Their lips touched and Carl gasped.
Then Devon was the one gasping as Carl pushed hard against his shoulders and shoved him onto the mattress, crawling on top of him and kissing his mouth messily, roughly, and with no art whatsoever. His desperation was so intense that Devon gave into it. He let Carl take possession of his mouth, and, wrapping his arms around him, he slid his hands to cup Carl’s rutting ass.
Becauseof courseCarl was thrusting against Devon already, his bare cock sliding over Devon’s stomach and catching in the fabric of Devon’s boxer briefs. Carl groaned and Devon slipped his hands beneath the waistband of Carl’s underwear, letting his fingers glide into Carl’s crack and slide over his asshole.
Carl bucked hard. He yelled into Devon’s mouth, a rough sound that shook them both, as he jerked and twitched, releasing bursts of hot cum all over Devon’s stomach and chest.
“Oh fuck,” Carl cried, tossing his head back, and his throat staining bright red. “Fucking fuck!”
Devon gulped, staring up at Carl Pink, undone already and out of control. He guessed that was one thing he could cross off his list, then? He’d thought it would be harder than simply letting Carl rub off on him while inexpertly attacking his mouth. He’d thought it would be the hardest thing on the list to achieve.
But it hadn’t been.
It’d been the easiest.
All it took to make Carl Pink get real was touching Devon Waters. Maybe the kid hadn’t be exaggerating about his crush after all.
