When I draw back, he grabs me with a desperate strength, his gaze frantic. “Jet…”
“Not going anywhere,” I inform him. “I’ll get the lube. You get Candy ready.”
“I’ll get him ready,” she counters, and I nod, a smile fighting to surface through the haze of desire that has fallen over my senses.
“I think he’s ready, Sugar Pop.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, then gasps when Joel bends over her and licks at her jaw, tugging her earlobe between his teeth. “You’re overdressed, J-One.”
And she bites her lip, coloring.
“Is this from your serial?” I ask as I hunt the lube in the drawer. “J-One and J-Two.” The fuck… I’m sure I left the lube right here last time.
Then again, I was a little distracted…
“Yeah.”
“A specific episode?” From the corner of my eye, I see her trail her hand down to Joel’s crotch and he lets out a long hiss.
She doesn’t reply to my question, and it strikes me that in her serial, it’s J-Two, aka me, who bones J-One, aka Joel, most of the time.
Holy shit.
The thought turns up the heat in my blood and I curse as the damn lube makes no appearance. Tonight of all nights. Fuck!
I stand up as Candy tugs Joel’s shirt off, and he helps her get rid of her tank top and pants. My gaze lingers on them, my mouth watering as they undress each other, aching to join them.
But I need to find lube, and since I’m the one in charge of that, I’m damn sure I don’t have a stash anywhere.
So fucking unprepared. The
stress of the past weeks is showing. I haven’t been able to think straight. And I don’t want to tell Joel and break the mood. There are substitutes to lube, right? There has to be something in the apartment I can use instead.
Think now, Jet. What can you use?
I take off my sweater and shirt as I wander out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. My quick search for baby oil fails, so I move on to the kitchen. Butter. Oil. Any of these should do, right?
The fridge is half-empty, which is weird. Then again, Joel hasn’t been himself lately, either, going from cooking for an army to cooking nothing and buying no food. So… no butter.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
Thank fuck, one of the cupboards coughs up a bottle of… flaxseed oil, apparently. Best oil for frying, says the label.
And for fucking, hopefully.
With my luck, by the time I’m back in the bedroom, the sex will be over and Joel and Candy will be fast asleep.
I really am a fucking pessimist, huh. But I shouldn’t have worried. Returning to the bedroom with my loot, I find my girl and my guy still sucking face and groping each other, only now Candy is on her back on the bed and Joel is half-sprawled over her, his tight ass on display, his white briefs molding to the round buns and leaving nothing to the imagination.
Not that I need to use my imagination. I’m a lucky bastard who’s seen Joel naked any number of times. Let me say right here that it’s a sight that never gets old. Take my word for it.
What I plan to do is drag down those damn briefs and work that fine ass, while he thrusts into Candy. Just the thought has my dick throbbing.
I get back on the bed and Joel lifts his head, his eyes dark, pupils blown to hell. “Come’ere,” he mutters and grabs my hand. “Where did you go?”
“Lube,” I say shortly, gasping when he pulls my thumb into his hot mouth and sucks on it. I feel it all the way to my dick.
Oh God. Blowjob by proxy. If thumbs could have orgasms…