God, this better fucking be Hunter and not just some horny bouncer who caught me at a weak moment.
“Fuck yes,” he growls when I stroke his cock, and I instantly feel better at the sound of his voice. I’d know that voice anywhere. His fingers around my throat tighten as we work each other, but I need more. For all I know, this could be the only time and place Hunter is comfortable exploring this, so I’m not going to waste it on hand jobs.
It would seem my best friend is reading my mind because I feel a certain tug on my throat and I know he’s trying to shove me down.
“Suck me off,” he says, low and commanding, and I eagerly drop to my knees in front of him. I don’t know why I look up, but I do. Even if I could see his face, he wouldn’t give me a chance. With a hand on the back of my head, he guides his cock to my mouth, and I open for him, letting him slide his length across my tongue.
I let him go deep. Deep enough to feel my throat constrict around him.
“Oh fuck,” he barks.
He thrusts into my mouth hard for a few strokes before I take the base of his cock in my hand and get to work on my own. Coating his dick in saliva, I suck hard on the head before swallowing him down again. His grip on my hair tightens.
“God…Drake.” He moans, and the sound of my name on his lips like this urges me on. It feels so natural, like we should have been doing this all along. He’s incoherent, mumbling and groaning and barely breathing as I keep up the motion of my mouth around him.
“Need to come,” he grunts, and I suck the head again, ready for him. My hands clutch him hard around his ass, pulling him deeper, hoping he feels it, hoping he knows this is my way of sayingI want you. I need you.The hand on the back of head is joined by the other, both of them drifting down to my neck as Hunter curls himself around me. It’s intimate and sexy as fuck, and I can feel my cock leaking beads of cum into the condom sheathed around it. I’m desperate to touch myself, but I don’t want to let him go.
A moment later, he’s shuddering and crying out as the warm, salty drops hit the back of my tongue. Once he’s let it all out, I swallow, lapping up his dick again, not quite ready to let this moment end.
But it does end, like all good things. Because a moment later, Hunter is zipping up his pants and pulling away. I don’t see him leave. Well, I can’t see shit, but when I reach out for him, he’s already gone.
* * *
I kneelin the darkness for a while. I consider jacking off, but the devastation of being so impersonally used and discarded has my dick deflating.
And the entire time I sit there, I try to put myself in Hunter’s shoes. This was his first sexual encounter with someone of the same sex. That had to be pretty intense. Maybe a little scary. He obviously liked it, and I’m sure he’s off somewhere questioning everything about himself.
But that fucker left me on the floor. On the goddamn floor. And I can’t imagine a scenario in which I would do that to him.
I didn’t force his dick down my throat. If anything, it was the opposite.
After a while, I decide that my self-loathing pity party would be better spent somewhere with alcohol. So I pick my sad ass off the floor, find the exit, discard the unused condom, and text Hunter.
I’m going to a bar. I’ll order a ride back to the apartment later.
I’m marching through the main room, staring down at my phone, when I hear him call my name.
“Drake,” he barks, putting himself in my path. “Where are you going?”
“Did you get my text?” My eyes skim over his suit, remembering the way it felt in my hands, the lapels, the shirt, the tie…the belt. I could argue with him right now, but I don’t want to. I’m mad, but I’m more in the mood to stew about it than fight.
“I’ll come with you,” he replies, and I look at his face for the first time. His expression is chaotic and unsure, but I hope he reads the emotion in mine.You left me on the fucking floor.
“I’ll meet you at the apartment,” I reply, and without another word, I leave.
He doesn’t follow me or call me or argue. He just lets me go.
There’s a dive bar down the street from the club and it’s perfect for what I need. I’m on a mission to get drunk fast, so I don’t talk to anyone, flirt, or converse. I just drink. It takes roughly three hours before I’m good and wasted. I still feel sad, but my inebriated brain can no longer form self-deprecating thoughts to accompany all the gloom.
Rule #23: Fuck the rules.
Isabel
I’mhalf asleep on the couch when I hear what sounds like a grizzly bear entering the apartment. A drunk grizzly bear.
“Drake?” I whisper, just as he loses his footing and stumbles into the doorframe of his room. He lets out a groan as he melts onto the floor.
“Go to bed,” he mutters.