His head tilts. His eyebrow arches. “I don’t think I’vegottado anything. Friendship usually carries more free will than that.”
“Okay,” I agree. “I’m willing you to freely fuck me. How’s that?”
“Are we going to talk afterward?”
“You said you can’t stay the night.”
Jake sighs. “That bad, huh?”
“Fuck. Me.”
I make the demand—intensely unfair to a friend who’s only done this once—and then turn my back on him, opening a drawer to pull out a condom and set it next to the bathroom sink. With the mirror mostly clear, a glance at our reflections is enough to show me that Jake is watching over my shoulder. I’m still looking at him when he speaks.
“What about lube?”
The same drawer opens and closes. A small bottle lands next to the condom. I growl, and maybe Jakes does, too.
“Don’t need much,” I tell him. “Trust me.”
“I’m far less concerned that you’re lying to me, and far more bothered by the idea that you might think you’re telling me the truth and be so, so wrong about that.”
I chuckle. “None of my other fuck buddies turn my eagerness into a study of self-deception.”
“If you’re expecting me to apologize for being different from the rest of them, you’ll be waiting a long time,” Jake says. “And don’t worry, I won’t expect you to apologize for breaking your rule about inviting someone over.”
He’s quiet after that, and I don’t go looking for a fight I’m pretty sure I could pick if that were my thing. We’re both naked and not as hard as we were a few minutes ago, but I still need this, and Jake’s going to help because he said so.
I’m counting on him being a man of his word.
We’re already so close to each other, but he presses himself to me and reaches around for my jaw, turning me until he can kiss me, a slow but utterly filthy thing. He finishes by biting my lip hard enough for the sting of it to linger, and then he pushes me to bend over the sink and pours lube onto his fingers. It’s still more than I need right now, but I have less to argue about when he isn’t slow about anything that follows. He presses two fingers against my hole, feels the way I relax under his touch, and slides them forward before I can find the right way to beg.
However much Jake is inexperienced—or just out of practice—he reads me well and doesn’t need the mirror to do it. He opens me up just long enough to satisfy something for himself, and while I continue to ache with need, I hope he needs me, too.It’s not much longer before he crouches for one of the discarded towels, and I tear at the condom wrapper, handing it over this time because I’m not drawing this out for anyone’s pleasure. We’ll both come, but I didn’t ask Jake to stop by for either of us to make it cute.
I’m still bent over, but somehow I’m not ready for how roughly he slams into me. The bruising grip on my hips and the ease of each perfectly crude thrust pulls questions to the tip of my tongue, but I lick my lips and leave them there. I drop my head and surrender to everything I’ve asked him for, Jake taking me out of my head after I’ve been stuck there for two days.
“So good,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t stop, and he doesn’t talk either. I’m barely able to think past the vulgar collision of our bodies, but I notice when Jake’s hands are seemingly everywhere at once. He squeezes my shoulder and scrapes his way down my spine, and when he curls his fingers in my hair, I whimper pathetically until he does it again. I think he eventually murmurs something behind me, and his hold on me tightens as his smooth strokes stutter. The sudden clumsiness does nothing to distract me from how fucking deep he is and how little he prepped me, the delicious burn something I still want to feel tomorrow.
I grab my dick then, no more gentle about that than Jake’s being with me, and I know it won't last much longer for either of us. It’s a race, maybe, and I want to win tonight, but he’s encouraging the same, his hand back in my hair while I fuckingwhineuntil I’m coming all over the cabinet door and the bathroomrug. I’m boneless and breathless, and Jake hasn’t stopped driving into me, his energy renewed by a shower and a willingness to soothe something that’s remained unspoken. He raises me then, strong arms wrapped around my body until I’m half standing and watching us in the mirror, and it’s so perfectly obvious when he comes inside me that I shudder all over again.
Jake is slow to let me go, but I figure he doesn’t trust me to stand on my own yet. It has to happen eventually, and when he pulls out to take care of the condom, I grab a towel from the floor to clean up some of my mess, then leave it on the rug to deal with later. I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen next, but he’s silent when he puts his jeans on without the boxers that must be uncomfortably sweaty after the ride here, and I mumble something about washing them with my stuff. Then he stands there and waits while I follow his lead, slipping back into my sweatpants under his stare.
I’m ready to saysomething—to challenge him or send him home or ask him for impossible things—but then he tugs on my hand and leads me past a bedroom that isn’t his. Jake has no claim to the living room either, nor my couch, but they must feel familiar enough for him to lead me there. He sits first, his back against a couple of throw pillows and one leg extended across the cushions, and then he beckons me toward the space in front of him, the invitation frustrating me because I know what he wants.
And I’m afraid of how bitter I’ll sound when I talk.
Jake hasn’t known me for anything but a smile.
I nestle between his legs anyway, and lean back against his bare chest, one of his hands so gentle in my damp hair and the other pressed to my heart whether he means something by it or not. And once again, I know I have to explain myself, but he’s the one to speak first.
“I didn’t like that,” he starts, and when I flinch in his embrace, he holds me tighter. “No, not the sex. And not the fact that it was rougher than last time. We’re in this to have fun, but that doesn’t always have to look a certain way. The wine and whatever else we did at my house was great, but I don’t expect that every time.”
“So, you’re mad because I’m upset.”
My statement never quite makes it into a question, so I’m not sure what I expect Jake to do with it, but the sigh isn’t a surprise.
“I’m notmadat all, Darren. But through the fun and the friendship and whatever else you want with me, I need you to be honest about it.” Jake taps his fingers against my skin, and I reach up to keep him still when he goes on. “Tonight, you said you were fine, then you joked you were horny, then you demanded that I fuck you, and you brushed off any concern about being physically ready for that. And sure, I’m not stupid. I understood you were upset. But justtellme that. Tell me you’re upset and that you need a distraction, and let me be the friend who distracts you. Don’t shuffle through a list of other excuses first, because while I’m damn good at reading between the lines, I need us to stay on the same page.”