“Fuck.” He stroked Pike’s shoulders, one hand rising to brush over Pike’s soft hair, before he quickly removed it. He’d heard guys complaining how their girl hated being touched when going down on them. But to his surprise, Pike reached out, grabbing Zack’s hand with that surprisingly strong grip his and dragging it back to his head.
God, he loved how Pike never hesitated to show him exactly what he wanted right when he wanted it. He let his fingers sift through the silky strands of Pike’s short, straight hair, still damp from the shower. Pike made a pleased humming noise that Zack could feel all the way to his balls. Pike sucked harder. Zip. Adrenaline raced through him, the same surge he got in his belly when the door opened right before a jump. Every muscle tensed, ready to ride the sky down.
“Gonna...” he warned Pike.
“Do it.” Pike went all the way to his base, milking him with his tongue, and Zack couldn’t hold back anymore, tumbling over, not caring how hard the landing might be, just letting all the good feelings blast through him, eviscerate him until he was nothing more than a limp heap of bones on the mattress.
“Holy hell, that was hot,” Pike said in the understatement of the year as he collapsed next to Zack.
“Yeah,” Zack mumbled, communication faculties still not entirely back online.
“It was okay, right? Me sucking you?”
“More than okay.” Zack shook his head, trying to find some brains. “You didn’t mind the...mess?”
“You mean the taste of my spunk on you? Nope. Hot as hell. I don’t mind the taste of myself at all.” With way more energy than Zack had, Pike swiped one of their towels from the floor, cleaning off his stomach before passing it to Zack.
“Me either,” Zack said absently as he wiped off.
“You’ve tasted yourself? I was thinking you didn’t jerk off very often at all.”
“I don’t.” Zack knew he was blushing but couldn’t summon enough energy to care. “But when I do, if I...uh...taste it, I can usually go again, get a double.”
“That’s hot as hell. You should jerk it more. And let me watch.” Pike grinned at him.
Somehow that seemed way more intimate than what they’d just done, letting Pike watch what he ever only did the in dark of night or, desperate, in the shower. He tried hard to not do it actually, rationing that sporadic guilty pleasure out, waiting until the need got too much even for him, then immediately feeling guilty after. Yeah, he wasn’t sure he was ready to share that with Pike.
“I’ll let you watch me.” Pike poked him with an elbow, clearly not taking silence as an answer.
“Maybe,” he hedged if only because watching Pike would indeed be fucking hot.
“You’re half-asleep, aren’t you?” Pike laughed, reaching over Zack to turn out the light. “Go to sleep.”
Zack rolled over, arranging his pillow the way he always did. But his routine definitely did not usually include a warm weight draped across his back.
“Night.” Pike’s voice was all happy and sleepy.
Nothing could possibly be this easy, but right then, just for a moment, Zack let himself dream.
Chapter Twelve
October
“So who can tell me the answer to problem fourteen?” Pike asked the half-empty classroom. He had twenty-nine enrolled in this section, but he’d already determined weeks ago that he was lucky if two-thirds of the class showed.
Also, he already knew from marking off homework that most of those in the room didn’t have the work, but hope sprang eternal and all that junk. Hell, it was the same impulse that kept him going with Zack. In the weeks since their hallway encounter, Pike’s hope sensors were on overload thanks to a steady diet of shared meals and increasingly cuddly orgasms.
But hope wasn’t doing a damn thing to help him in the classroom. Predictably, Suzanne’s hand shot up, same as it had on the past dozen problems. She took beginning stats seriously—showing up early each class, color-coded binder at the ready, calculator out, pencils sharpened.
Too bad she was the only one.
“Anyone?” Pike ignored Suzanne’s hand. “How about...” He scanned the list of names, trying to find another awake student. Damn. He shouldn’t have to look at the list this deep into the semester. He should have all the names memorized, except he didn’t. “Jose?”
“What problem again? Five?” Jose blinked, then stretched, arm tats rippling. Hell. Had he been asleep too?
“Fourteen,” Pike said wearily. Damn, how did other professors manage this? Pike struggled to remember if his any of his classes at Berkeley and then later Caltech had been this unresponsive. And even as a teaching assistant, Pike couldn’t remember this many confused and sleeping students. Maybe it was this stupid book. Small print. Terrible explanations, but that was the one he’d been given to teach out of since he’d been hired after the textbook selection deadline, along with the drier-than-high-fiber-cereal syllabus template from one of the permanent faculty members.