He nodded, then added breathlessly, “Yes. Please.”
I worked the button free, then the zipper. The sound seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and tugged. He lifted his hips to help.
The slacks came off, and his socks followed. I tossed them aside.
He lay there in his shirt and dark blue boxer briefs, his cock so hard it stretched the fabric thin and made my mouth water. His legs were pale and lean, smooth all the way to his knees with fine hair sprayed down his shins.
I put my hand on his knee and slid it slowly upward.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
He laughed, shaky. “You don’t have to…”
“I mean it.” I leaned down and kissed the inside of his knee. “You are.”
His breath hitched.
I kissed the soft skin of his inner thigh higher and higher. He smelled clean, like soap and something faintly sweet. His leg trembled under my mouth.
When I reached the edge of his underwear, I paused and looked up at him.
His head was tilted back against the pillow, throat exposed, one arm thrown over his eyes. His chest heaved.
I undid the buttons of his shirt, rising along the bed as I worked my way up. He was lean and beautiful.
“Bennet.”
He lifted his arm slightly and looked down at me.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I said.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered, voice strained like it would be pure horror if I stopped now. He lifted his torso enough to let the shirt slide off, then settled on the bed again.
I leaned down and kissed his torso, moving over his pec and nipple, down the middle of his chest, and all the way over his flat stomach. Then, I kissed him through the fabric. He jerked, a broken sound escaping him. His cock throbbed under my lips, and hunger opened deep in me.
I did it again, mouthing at him through the cotton, feeling him twitch and strain. His hips lifted involuntarily.
“Jason…”
I hooked my fingers into the waistband. “Can I?”
“Yes.God, yes.”
I pulled them down. He was fully hard, flushed, and leaking precum. Beautiful.
I wrapped my hand around him carefully.
He made a sound like he’d been punched.
“Good?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“I…yes. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I stroked him slowly, learning what made him gasp, what made his hips jerk, and what made his fingers dig into the sheets.
I lay next to him, my hand moving steadily along his cock, feeling the tension run through him. “Touch me,” I said.
His eyes opened, unfocused. “What?”