Eastshore Tigers 01 - Strong Side (12 page)

I take full advantage, feeling a curiosity and excitement I haven't felt in years. I start with his face, enjoying the rough scratch of his stubble beneath my fingers. Then I moved down to his throat, and leave my hand there for a moment as he swallows beneath me.

I move down, over his chest, finding his nipples through his clothes. My thumbs brush over them and he shivers, closing his eyes. A satisfied grin spreads across my lips as I realize he's at least as sensitive as I am, if not more. It's something I want to explore later, but for now, I've set a goal for myself. A limitation: Over the clothes action only.

Honestly, if we do much more than this, I'm a little afraid I'm going to start thinking with my dick instead of my actual brain.

For now, though, I'm content to touch him as is. And because that little bit of skin is showing, I consider it fair game and run my fingers over his abdomen. The hair there is soft against my skin, and a part of me wants to rub my cheek against it. It feels weird to even think that, but I guess desire always makes you think strange things.

That and the fact that, as soon as I touch him, skin to skin, his muscles flinch underneath me, and he sucks in a breath.

"You're going to do this until you have me begging, aren't you?"

My grin broadens. It's not my plan, but it is appealing.

I move down, using both hands to follow his thighs. He's got the legs of a runner, thick and muscular and just begging to be touched. It's amazing to me that one person's body can feel so different from another's, but where I'm used to soft, supple flesh beneath the fabric, Griff gives me hard, defined muscles that seem to tremble at my every touch.

I move my hands a little inward, and my gaze fixes on the bulge in the front of his pants. I hear him hiss as I get close enough to tease him, but not close enough to give him any relief.

I know this is going to be a turning point. For some reason, in my head, all of this is okay. It's just a little bit of experimentation. But when I touch him in a more intimate way, it means something else. It means I'm committing to this. That I actually want to be with him. To please him and have him please me.

Fuck it. I can't take it anymore, and I'm dying to know what he feels like. Even through his pants.

I expect it to be like cupping myself, and it mostly is. He's warm against my hand, and I can feel the outline of his shaft through the fabric. He's already rock hard, and my pulse quickens as I realize that's all because of me.

But the biggest difference between touching him and touching myself is that I get to enjoy his reactions. One of his hands goes to his forehead, and he looks up at the ceiling, muttering something under his breath. It sounds like a plea, and as I rub him through his jeans, I watch his every reaction. His lips part, his hips arch off the bed a little, and his chest starts to rise and fall rapidly as his breathing becomes more ragged.

"You're kinda killing me over here," he says, and his voice is raspy, playing on my already excited nerves.

"You want to even the score?"

I want to keep touching him, but I have a strong need to slide my hands under his shirt, and I know if I do that, it's not going to be long before his clothes come off. It's not really a bad thing, but since I've set this arbitrary goal for myself, I want to stick to it.

Of course, Griff doesn't know about this goal, and he can do whatever he damn well pleases. When he motions for me to lie back beside him, I do it, looking over at him as anticipation tangles within me. I'm already so wound up that, as soon as he touches me, I can feel my dick throb in my shorts.

That's when I realize he doesn't even have to get me out of my clothes to be able to reach more of my skin. My shirt sleeves are short, and he has full access to my arms. He takes advantage of it, tracing the definition there in an almost reverent way.

He does the same thing with my chest, and down to my abs. Then he dips his hand underneath the hem of my shirt, and smooths it up over the front of my body.

He rubs in slow circles, and my breath hitches as he gets close to one of my nipples. Even just the slightest touch from him makes me let out a moan that doesn't sound like me. I arch into him, and let my head fall back against the bed.

"You like that?"

He does it some more, the soft pads of his fingers running over the flats of my nipples. They stand stiff and taut, pressing hard against my shirt, and with every pass he makes, the tension in me winds tighter and tighter.

I should have told him the rules, but I can't say I mind that he's indulging a little. When he draws away from my chest, it takes everything in me to hold back the most pathetic whimper ever. But he quickly makes up for it, running both of his large hands down my thighs, and coming up underneath the hem of my shorts.

I'm wearing boxer briefs underneath, thank God, because I don't think I could take the feeling of him touching my inner thigh, skin to skin. Even this is almost too much, and my dick starts to beg for attention. When I look down at Griff, he's looking right back at me, his eyes blazing with need.

I don't know who leans in first, but our lips meet in a searing kiss. I crush my mouth to his, moaning against him as he gets closer and closer to where I want him.

Finally, he rubs me through my briefs, and I almost come right then and there.

"Fuck," I hiss against his mouth.

He keeps his lips less than an inch from mine, and I can feel his hot breath against me as he focuses on what he's doing. The movements of his hand are slow torture, and he rubs with his palm, eventually using his fingers to trace the outline of my shaft.

Dipping his hand between my thighs, he cups my balls and squeezes a little, and I arch my hips up off the bed to get closer to him. The last time I was touched like this, I was a teenager, and I’d never been touched in any sexual way before. It made sense that I couldn't control myself back then, but now, years later, I feel like I'm about to have the exact same experience.

When he starts to stroke me in earnest, his fingers closing around my cock, I just can't help it. The tension in me explodes, and before I realize it's happening, he's bringing me one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

He stops touching me directly as it happens, and I clutch at his shoulders, my fingers digging into his back through his shirt. I can’t manage the brainpower to focus on kissing him, so instead I bury my head against his shoulder, his fingers tangling in my hair.

His other hand gently caresses my thigh, and my muscles jump and twitch as I reach the point of oversensitivity.

I let out a shuddering breath, and the reality of what just happened hits me hard. My cheeks flush, and for a minute, I can't really look at him.

"Shit. Sorry. I haven't done that since high school."

I'm not a teenager anymore. I should be able to keep it together and not come in my jeans. Griff’s probably regretting being my mentor right about now.

Way to completely kill the buzz, self.

But he just puts a finger to my mouth, then replaces it with his lips. It’s a slow, sensual kiss, and unlike the last few, neither of us seem to be in a rush.

I let myself relax against the bed and enjoy his mouth on mine, and when he finally breaks the kiss, I feel a little more at ease.

"Don't be sorry. That was sexy as fuck."

His words are a huge surprise to me, and I feel a swell of emotion in my chest. "Yeah?"

He kisses me again, smiling against my lips. "Yeah."

Now I want to make him feel good, too, and I decide it's probably time to go back on my rule. I won't take off his clothes, but I want to actually feel him this time.

I slide my hands over his chest and up to his shoulders, pushing him gently so I can change our position. He lays back on the bed, and I move on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his body against mine.

It's still almost too much stimulation when our hips meet, but I tough it out, and decide to experiment a little. I roll my hips against his, and he tilts his head back, reaching one hand behind him and gripping the edge of the bed. He moans, and I drag my lips over his jaw and down to his neck, finding the frantic beat of his heart beneath my mouth.

When it's too much for me, I slide my hand over his thigh, and search out the button of his jeans. My other hand joins the first, and I undo his fly.

"You sure about this?” He asks, and he's practically panting already.

"I'm sure."

I cup him through his boxers first, and he gives in to me completely, one of his hands digging into my shoulder, the other gripping the sheets.

I reach in and stroke my fingers along his length. He's already rock hard, and the velvety smooth skin feels amazing. I decide to go for it completely, and pull him out of his boxers, venturing a glance down.

He's bigger than I expected, and the sight of his cock standing to attention, hot and hard against my palm, makes me ache in a way I've never felt before. I start to think about all the things I could do to him, and my curiosity rises as I wonder what he'll taste like.

And what he might feel like inside of me.

I know I'm not ready for those things yet, and I know Griff won't push me. For now, I just want to give him the same pleasure he gave me. Looking up at him, I meet his gaze. It's fucking intoxicating to see his half lidded eyes glazed over with lust.

I squeeze the base of his shaft, then run my finger over the sensitive slit, just like I do with my own dick. It's amazing being able to rely on a bank a pre-existing knowledge, even though I know there’s bound to be differences between us. It's like I have a foundation to draw from, and I'm not just going into this completely blind.

Or worse: Schooled only by the Internet.

As I slowly stroke him, I learn that Griff really likes it when I apply a little more pressure right underneath the head. He also likes it when I rub the pad of my thumb over that sensitive skin just beneath, and when I trace the seam of his balls.

He prefers a pretty tight hold, and moans more and more as I jack him. I watch his face the whole time, loving his reactions, and loving that I'm able to do this for him. I keep up a vigorous rhythm, my motions slicked by his leaking slit, and it isn't long before he starts lifting his hips off the bed, thrusting up into my hand.

The sounds he makes when he's close to the edge are about to make me hard again, and when I see and hear him tense, a moan catching in his throat, it's the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

He comes hard, and I stroke him through it, keeping my hand around the lower part of his shaft to avoid the sensitive head.

He shivers a little as he comes down, and puts both hands over his forehead, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a breathy laugh.

"You sure you haven't done this before? That was fucking amazing."

Pride swells in me, and when he leans up to kiss me, I meet him eagerly. A part of me is still ready to go again, but I know we should probably take a little break and actually finish that paper I asked him over here to look at.

Neither of us have to say anything. I flop back on the bed beside him, my hands on my chest, feeling calm and satisfied for the first time in weeks, if not months. It's like something in my life has finally clicked in the place, and I didn't even know that piece was missing.

Griff takes a little catnap beside me, and I don't even notice until I see the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. I watch him sleep, and a strange sensation flutters through my chest.

I'm not sure what all will happen between us, or what we've just started. But I feel like I’ve started something that’s going to change my life.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

- Derek -

Two weeks later, Hawk and I have continued our marathon make-out sessions.

Most of the time, they take place in his dorm room. It's just safer that way, since there's no risk of anybody walking in. But when I know both my roommates are out, I bring him over to my place, we play a couple games of Madden, and then fool around for an hour or so until we both give into the fact that we have other shit we need to be doing.

As far as I'm concerned, it's the perfect life.

We haven't really moved beyond handjobs yet, but that's totally okay with me. Watching Hawk jack me, feeling his hand around my cock, it's absolutely mind-blowing. Better than anything I've experienced before, from getting a blowjob to fucking.

I'm not going to pressure him for more, but when we get there, I know it's going to completely ruin me for any other guys.

Thankfully, the fact that we spent so much time together before this means the guys pretty much know what to expect from us. It's not weird when we leave the Den together, or when we spend a lot of time hanging out and talking in the locker room, like we are today.

But when Coach Garvey asks to see me in his office, the first thing I think is that we’ve been found out.

Hawk seems to think that, too, because he looks at me with surprise and a little bit of apprehension.

"You schedule a meeting with Coach?"

"Nope. This is news to me."

I give him a smile that I hope is reassuring, but as I make the short walk to Coach Garvey's office, I can't help but feel my own nerves kick in. Right now I'm pretty much getting to have my cake and eat it, too. It's like living in a dream, and I'm just waiting to be snapped awake at any moment.