Pulling his mouth back to mine, I let my hands roam, skimming, and exploring every inch of available skin. Sol’s hands slide up, teasing under my sweater, and I reach up, dropping my glasses on the desk, before pulling it off and throwing it to the floor. The feeling of my skin against his is heaven, and I walk him back the last step toward my bed, letting him decide as his legs hit the mattress.
I moan, half in pleasure and half in relief, as he pulls me down onto the bed. Blanketing his body with mine, my hand grips his hip as I thrust a little against him, savoring the answering sound against my tongue.
As much as I want to take this further, I force myself to pull back. Settling beside him, holding myself up on my elbow, I stare down at Sol’s swollen lips, his skin pink from my stubble. “Are you okay?”
He nods, his hands gripping my ass as he flexes his hips, crushing our trapped dicks together. I drop my forehead to his, my eyes fluttering shut. He feels so good. Too good.
Reaching for his face, I dip and kiss him, while my other hand strokes down his stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips into the movement, and I leave his mouth, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his jaw and neck before devouring his chest. Sol writhes beneath me as I scrape my teeth over his nipples, his head thrown back and his chest heaving, urging me lower. But I take my time, drinking in the smooth expanse of him, until my nose nudges his belly button, and my fingers find the button on his jeans.
Sol groans my name, and I make quick work of pulling his jeans and underwear down to his thighs, eagerly swallowing his leaking cock. He gasps, fingers trying and failing to find something to grip onto with my closely shaved head.
“Fuck. Wes. That’s . . .”
The rest of his sentence is swallowed by a long groan, his back arching, as I work him with my tongue, sucking his dick like it’s my last meal. I’m living for the desperate noises I pull from him, and when he looks down at me, his eyes wide and glazed, I double my efforts.
“Oh, my fucking god,” Sol gushes, his blunt fingernails digging into my shoulders as he bucks slightly into my mouth.
My hand slips between his warm thighs to cup his balls, but then he grips my shoulders, pulling me up. I frown in question, but he tugs at me until we’re face to face. Then his hand moves between us.
I hold my breath as he slides his palm over the aching bulge in my pants, squeezing gently. I don’t dare move, letting him take the lead as he pops the button on my jeans. It’s a heady feeling to know my dick is the only one Sol’s ever touched and if he freaks out and leaves, I think I might die.
Pressing soft kisses to his neck and shoulder, I only move when he goes to push down my jeans and underwear, lifting my hips to help him. I’m aware that his jeans are still around his thighs, but maybe there’s safety in that feeling, like we’re not actually naked together on my bed. Buried against his shoulder, my head floods with images of bending Sol in half, his skin slick with sweat as I fuck him, and my dick twitches, leaking against my stomach.
Sol’s swallow is obvious against my mouth, and then his fingers gently grip the base of my cock. I hum on his skin as he tentatively strokes me, and after two firm tugs, he gains confidence, his thumb stroking over the head, and I fall back on the pillow with a groan. Before I can open my eyes, Sol’s mouth is on mine, and I sink my fingers into his hair as he works me with his hand. I want to push him down, to urge him to wrap those pretty lips around me, but I know he’s not ready. Even so, the thought has me fucking up into his fist, despite the dry friction. There’s lube in my drawer, but I can’t bring myself to pull away.
Sol’s cock is heavy against my hip, and I make a decision. Reaching between us, I knock his hand away and roll him onto his side, taking both of us in my hand. I smirk at Sol’s gasp as I work our dicks together with firm, sure strokes, and his head falls against my shoulder.
After a moment, he shifts back, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he watches my fist work over our cocks, gathering the precum to ease the slide.
“That feels . . .” His words become pants, his muscles flexing as he fucks up into my fist. “Fucking incredible.”
I hum my agreement, mesmerized by the sight of his cock, flushed and pink, against mine. We’re similar in size, although I’m maybe a little thicker, and I marvel at how perfectly we fit together, wondering whether we’d fit together as well in other ways.
“Shit,” Sol barks. “I’m close.”
I close the gap between us, taking his earlobe between my teeth. “Good. Come for me.”
Sol jerks against me with a grunt and I slant our mouths together, capturing his moan as he begins to spill over my fist. Gathering his come, I coat our dicks and work us faster. Sol whimpers against my tongue, and the contrast of the delicate sound with the muscled man against my chest, has my balls drawing up and me coming hard enough that the world seems to tip on its axis a little.
Releasing our spent cocks, I reach under my pillow and pull out the t-shirt I sleep in, using it to mop up our mess. Sol has fallen back against my pillow, his eyes closed and his breathing fast. I take a moment to drink him in, liking the sight of him almost naked in my bed a little too much.
A strange sense of pride warms my skin at seeing him undone, stubble rash around his swollen lips and his hair messed from my fingers. I smirk at the strands hanging over his forehead. It reminds me of the picture he sent me. The picture that I definitely haven’t jerked off over several times.
He turns his head and opens his eyes, a sleepy smile on his lips, and I don’t hesitate in dropping my mouth to his in a soft, lazy kiss. When I pull back, he smiles, his eyes still closed, and my heart swells a second before a sickening realization slams into me, churning my gut.
This is the reason I’ve been holding back. Why I’ve been running. Sol is so fucking pretty it hurts, and the fact that he’s possibly the nicest guy ever is like some sort of sick joke. The universe has a crummy sense of humor putting the perfect guy in my life when there’s no way he could ever be mine.
Yeah, he’s attracted to me, but the timing is fucked. I’m the first guy he’s ever been attracted to. If he decides he is bi—which I think we just answered pretty conclusively five minutes ago—then he’s going to want to experiment. He’s had twenty-one years of women. Why the fuck would he choose to stick with me?
The thought bounces around my head until I find myself pulling back from Sol, tugging up my jeans and reaching for my sweater. This can only end one way, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let myself get hurt. It’s my final year and I’m already stretched way too thin.
“Are you okay?” Sol asks, pulling up his own jeans and taking his shirt as I toss it to him.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just hungry.”
He stares at me for a second, then nods. “Okay.”
I stand, planning to head to the bathroom to wash my hands, but stop and turn back to him. “Listen. I’m happy for this to happen again if you are, but we need to set some rules.”