L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (14 page)

“Now.”

Kicking off shoes and letting jackets fall haphazardly in the vicinity of the couch, we hurried into his bedroom. As soon as we were there, we struggled with clothing, our fingers barely managing the intricate tasks of unbuckling, unbuttoning, and unzipping. It probably

took mere seconds for us to get out of our clothes and into bed, but it may as well have taken all night.

Our mouths never separated as I pulled him down on top of me. There were so many things I wanted to do to him, to that hard-on that was right against mine, but I couldn’t get enough of his kiss. I tangled my fingers in his hair and explored his mouth, every taste of his tongue making me crave more.

He squeezed my hips with his thighs, pressing his cock against mine. Then he broke the kiss just long enough to say, “Fuck me, Dustin.”

“With pleasure.”
“Stay there,” he said, reaching for the nightstand. “Stay
just
like that.” He tore the condom packet with his teeth and my blood suddenly ran cold.
“Wait—”
Brandon froze. “What?”
I eyed the condom. “You’re not….”
He followed my eyes, and the alarm in his expression faded. “That’s not what I meant. You’re still going to fuck me.” He rolled the condom onto me and reached for the lube. “I promise you, I’m not going to push you to let me fuck you.”
I swallowed. “Yeah, not quite ready for that yet.”
He sat over me and leaned down for a kiss. “Trust me, Dustin,” he whispered. “I’ll follow your lead on that. I certainly wouldn’t throw it at you in the heat of the moment.”

“Much appreciated,” I said, running my fingers through his hair and kissing him.

“But when you’re ready,” His lips barely left mine as he eased himself onto my cock. “And not a minute sooner….” He closed his eyes, moaning softly as my cock slid into him. “Just say the word.”

I tried to speak, but as he rocked back and forth, taking my cock into him, rising, taking it again, I couldn’t remember what I wanted to say. My hands rested on his hips, moving with him as he rode me. Lost in the intense sensations, I tightened my grasp, unintentionally breaking his rhythm.

He gently took one of my wrists and pinned my arm beside my head. Then he did the same with the other. “Just lay back and enjoy it,” he said, fucking me with a slow, even rhythm. Still holding my wrists, he bent to kiss me. “Tell me how it feels.”

Raising my hips to meet his, I found and joined his perfect rhythm. I took a breath. Lost it. Drew another.

 

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Oh God….” I tried to free my arms so I could touch him—I wasn’t sure where I wanted to touch him, just that my hands ached for his skin against them—but he held them, keeping me passive and surrendered to him. “Jesus,” I moaned. “It feels incredible.”

He dipped his head so that he was whispering right into my ear, his hot breath on my sweaty skin sending me into orbit as he said, “You feel fucking perfect this way, Dustin.”

I sucked in a breath as my back arched beneath us. Though he was moving too slowly to make me come—something I had little doubt he was doing intentionally—it was intense, taking my breath away each time he took me all the way into him. I wanted it to last all night, but if I didn’t come soon, I was going to lose my mind. It felt too good to stop, too intense to keep going without that release I so desperately craved.

A helpless moan escaped his lips, vibrating against my neck, and I knew he, too, was losing control. A shudder ran through him, and his hands momentarily loosened around my wrists. I took advantage and wrenched my arms free, putting them around him and holding on as I thrust upward, desperate to fuck him as fast and hard as humanly possible.

He threw his head back and groaned, matching his strokes to mine. Our voices crescendoed and our movements quickened, but at the same time, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Even as he rode me faster, as I lifted my hips to meet him thrust for desperate, insatiable thrust, time slowed down. Every stroke took a perfect, blissful age. My fingers moved so slowly down his back that I felt every last groove between his quivering muscles, and the bead of sweat rolling down his temple seemed frozen in time.

My orgasm started just as slowly, building until the need for release was almost painful, reaching the point of unbearable and still intensifying, still just out of reach, just beneath the surface. Then I heard my name, heard him moan just before his body tensed and hot liquid hit my chest, and in a single heartbeat, time sped up, and the tension inside me broke. Only his body over mine kept me from levitating off of the bed as the powerful, pulsing release surged through me. Someone cried out, someone cursed, someone moaned, but I could no longer tell his voice from my own.

Then everything was silent except for our rapid, uneven breathing and my blood pounding in my ears. Even the stillness was intense, the air electrified and our bodies shaking.

“Oh my God,” he said, lifting his head to kiss me.
“My sentiments exactly,” I said, still breathless.

He raised his hips to let me pull out but made no move to change positions. We simply held each other, kissing lazily.

 

“This,” he said after a moment, “is what happens when you make me keep my hands to myself for hours on end.”

 

I stroked his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear. “If that’s the case, I may have to do it more often.”

 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

 

Sliding my hand around to the back of his neck and pulling him down for another kiss, I whispered, “And why not?”

“Because one of us might get hurt next time.”
“That could be fun.”
“One of us being
you
.”
“Kinky.”
He laughed, then kissed me. “Dustin, Dustin, Dustin, whatever

am I going to do with you?”

“Same thing you always do with me.” I ran a finger up the center of his back, grinning as he closed his eyes and shivered. “Get hot, naked, and sweaty.”

“Sounds good to me.”

J
UST
barely waking up somewhere in the night, I realized we weren’t touching anymore. Without thinking about it, I sought the warmth of his body, putting my arm over his waist and lying beside him. Momentary panic swept through me, almost rousing me completely as I expected him to elbow me and shove me off, but he didn’t. His hand drifted over my forearm, then his fingers loosely interlaced with mine.

I exhaled and rested my head beside his to go back to sleep. His hair was cool against my face, still damp, so it must not have been too long since we’d gotten out of the shower. My drowsy mind drifted back to that shower and the passionate sex that had led up to it.

Half-dreaming, I could almost imagine that I was in that moment again, Brandon on top of me, his sweaty hair between my fingers, my cock deep inside him as he rode me to a powerful orgasm, his voice barely more than a helpless moan as he said my name.

Before I realized it, my body was reacting to the memory, and I started to pull away as my cock hardened against him, but his grasp tightened on my arm. I thought he was still asleep, that he had just unconsciously reacted to my movement, but when he touched his lips to my hand, I knew he was awake.

I kissed his shoulder and pressed my erection against him. He murmured softly and pushed back, flicking his tongue across my fingertips.

Sleep slurred my words as I whispered, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
He guided my hand down to his own very erect cock. “Do you hear me complaining?”
Wrapping my fingers around him, I stroked him slowly and kissed the base of his neck as I pushed my cock against him. “I don’t feel so bad, then.”
“I like what you’re feeling right now,” he said.
I nuzzled his neck. “Guess I just can’t get enough of you.”
“You can have as much of me as you can handle.” He gently pushed my hand away just long enough for him to roll over and face me. Then he put my hand back on his cock and wrapped his fingers around mine.
“Careful what you wish for,” I said, stroking him slowly. “You may never sleep again.”
“I’ll cope.” His lips found mine. “Jesus, I love what you do with your hands.”
I exhaled. “You’re not so bad with yours.”
His forehead touched mine, and he whispered, “Do that—” His voice caught. “Do that a little faster.” My hand moved faster, and I was rewarded with a ragged, warm breath across my lip and a shiver that moved his body closer to mine. He kissed me again, his own hand stroking me faster.
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “That’s—” The words lodged in my throat as he tightened his grasp. “Fucking hell, that’s perfect.”
How long we kissed and touched in the darkness, I couldn’t say. Time was irrelevant when Brandon was against me. I had never lost myself in someone the way I lost myself in him every time. Every. Fucking. Time.
His mouth suddenly broke away from mine, and he exhaled hard, his body tensing as his erection twitched in my hand. “Oh fuck….”
My hand moved faster, barely able to keep a steady rhythm as he did the same to my cock. I screwed my eyes shut, my mouth alternating between seeking his lips and tensing into a grimace.
He squeezed my cock, his unsteady rhythm emphasizing just how close he was to the edge. His back arched, pushing his body towards me. “I’m gonna come, oh fuck, I’m….”
I kissed his neck, and his voice vibrated against my lips. “Come,” I whispered. “Come, Brandon.” My whole body was shaking with anticipation not of my orgasm, but his. Everything he did as he moved closer to the edge—his breath catching, his body trembling, his cock pulsing against my fingers—turned me on.
My only regret in that moment was that the lights were off. What I wouldn’t have given to see his face, but my memory filled in the gaps, and in my mind, I saw him as well as if it were daylight. His eyes closed, his lips parted, the flush in his skin that only served to intensify the blue of his eyes when they flew open in the moment of release.
“I’m—” He tensed, gasping. “Oh fuck. Oh… fuck….”
As soon as his hot semen hit my chest and abs, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I took in a breath, and my hips moved in time with his strokes until a violent shudder straightened my spine, and I moaned, “Oh God, I’m coming….”
As the shaking subsided, I let my forehead rest against his, our breath mingling as both of our orgasms faded.
“Sorry I woke you up,” I murmured.
“All’s forgiven,” he said breathlessly.
“I suppose we could use another shower,” I said, stroking his hair gently. “What do you think?”
“If we do, we’ll just end up fooling around again.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

L
EANING
against the bathroom counter, I watched Brandon finish shaving. I looked in the mirror and ran my fingers over my stubbled jaw. “I could use a shave myself.”

“I don’t know,” he said, glancing at me before he drew the razor up the side of his neck. “You look good with some eighty grit stubble.”

“More like thirty grit at this point,” I said, letting my fingers scuff loudly across it to emphasize my point.
He laughed and rinsed his razor before meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Well, if you need it, I have an extra.” Without waiting for a response, he dug into a drawer and pulled one out, handing it to me and sliding the can of shaving cream across the counter.
As I put the shaving cream on, I eyed the razor. “Shit, I haven’t used one of those since I was in the military.”
“Electric?”
“Yep. Decided it wasn’t such a good idea to keep anything sharp in the bathroom in case my ex-wife had one of her tantrums.” I watched in the mirror as his eyes widened. “I’m kidding. She was a bitch, but she wasn’t that bad.”
“God, I hope not.”
“If she was, I’d have been dead a long, long time ago.”
He smirked, glancing at me as he touched up a missed spot on his cheek. “Don’t tell me you antagonized her.”
“Well, the last three or four years, let’s just say I didn’t put up with her bullshit as much as she would have liked.” I took the razor out of its package. “If I knick an artery, you’ll call the paramedics, right?”
He splashed water on his face and reached for a towel. “You’ll need the paramedics if you get blood all over my bathroom.”
“You’re such a compassionate son of a bitch.”
“That’s me all over, you—” He paused. “You know, I’m used to using one of those….” Our eyes met in the mirror again, and his eyebrows lifted.
It took me a second to figure out what he was asking. I turned to meet his eyes.
He shrugged. “I mean, I’d understand if you don’t want me coming at you with something sharp, but—” He stopped when I handed him the razor. Gently plucking it from between my fingers, he grinned. “It’s always easier on someone else anyway.”
“I would think so, since you don’t have to do it backwards in the mirror.”
“No, it’s not that.” He slid his hand around to the back of my neck, and his brow knitted as he reached for my face with the razor. “It doesn’t hurt me if it bleeds.”
My eyes widened, and I stiffened as he drew the blade across my skin.
He looked up and chuckled. “Just kidding.”
The blade scraped against my jaw, a sensation I was no longer accustomed to since I had gone electric. It should have been disconcerting, having someone else running a razor, particularly a brand new one, over my face, but it didn’t bother me. As with anything involving Brandon, it probably should have seemed absurd and weird, but it didn’t. Quite the contrary.
“Turn this way a bit,” he said, nodding towards my left. I turned my head, and he furrowed his brow as he started below the sideburn. “Have you ever thought about growing a goatee?”
“I had one for a while,” I said. “The princess hated it.”
He snorted. “I suppose your opinion on such trivial subjects didn’t matter?”
“Nope.”
He ran his thumb up the side of my jaw, making sure it was smooth. “I think you’d look good with one.”
“I may grow one out again. Eventually.”
“If I beg and plead and give you puppy dog eyes, will you?” He batted his eyes at me.
“I might require something a bit more persuasive,” I said with a wink. We both laughed.
“I’m willing to negotiate,” he said. “Look up.” I did, and he gently lifted my chin with his free hand. “You know, you’re the first guy who’s ever let me do this.”
The razor scraped up the front of my neck. I fought the urge to swallow nervously. Without moving my jaw any more than I had to, I said, “I take it you’ve offered a time or two.”
“I’ve offered, but most guys aren’t thrilled about having someone else putting a razor to their neck.”
“Well, when you put it like that….”
He laughed. “I know it sounds a bit weird, but I’ve always wanted to do this.”
I looked at him, as much as I could without lowering my chin. “Really?”
He nodded. “Like I said, it’s weird. But….” he shrugged. “I don’t know, there’s just something incredibly….” Trailing off, he turned away for a second to rinse the blade.
“Intimate?”
He paused. “Yeah, that’s the word.” He touched the side of my neck and started to bring the razor up again. “It’s not uncomfortable, is it?”
“No,” I said. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I would have let anyone else do it, to be honest with you.”
He smiled, but said nothing.
I can think of a few things I might let you do that I wouldn’t even consider with anyone else.
I swallowed hard.
“What?” he said.
“What?”
“You’re thinking something.”
A glance in the mirror confirmed my suspicion that my cheeks had turned red. “Just….” I watched him rinse the razor one last time, then shook my head. “Nothing.”
Handing me a towel, he said, “Really?”
I cupped my hands under the faucet and splashed water on my face, then stood and dried it with the towel he’d given me. “I was just thinking that this is hardly the first thing I’ve let you do that I wouldn’t let anyone else do.”
He smiled. “I guess that’s true, isn’t it?”
Putting my hands on his waist, I leaned in to kiss him. “I kind of like it when we do some of those other things.”
Running his fingers over my freshly shaved skin, he said, “You
kind of
like it?”
My fingers trailed up his back, exploring the edges of his tattoo for the hundredth time. “I really like it. In fact….” I dipped my head to kiss his neck. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” he laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Dustin.”
I backed him up against the wall and pressed my hips against his, grinning when he half-gasped, half-moaned against my mouth. I growled, “I could just drag you back to bed and fuck you, if that works better for you.”
“That’s more like it.” He kissed me, wrapping his arms around me. When he looked at me again, he pursed his lips, obviously trying not to smile. “Unless, of course, you’re all talk.”
I laughed. “All talk?”
“Yeah. All talk.”
I nipped his shoulder and dug my fingers into his hips. “Those are fightin’ words, Dr. Stewart.”
He gave a theatrical sigh. “All bark, no bite.” He dragged the edges of his fingernails up my back.
“C’mere, you,” I growled and kissed him, steering him out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. “All bark, no bite? You know that isn’t true.”
As he pulled me down onto the bed, he said, “Prove it.”
I did.