Darren leans back some, bracing himself with one hand while the other still combs through my hair. My fingers are either splayed across his thigh or moving in tandem with my mouth, and I’m beyond turned on, only quiet about it because I’m listening to everything Darren has to say above me.
“That feels so fucking good. Right there. Christ, please. Don’t stop. Love how you suck my dick. I’ve thought about it for so long, Jake. It’s so fucking good.”
The way he says my name—lets it fall broken and breathless from his tongue—has me shoving my swim trunks down so I can reach for myself and keep my own orgasm at bay. I look up at him too, eager to see what he looks like when he continues to speak, his words more obscene by the minute.
I barely pull off him, spit still between us when I do my best to beg. “Keep talking.”
“Yeah? You want directions? Want to hear how much I think about this?” he asks. “Or do you just like the sound of my voice?”
“Yes. To everything.”
He finally puts pressure on the back of my head, guiding me over him again, though he doesn’t thrust up into me even when I have no doubt he could. I’d like to find out on some other night.Right now, I’m content to let him have this much control, each long second lingering on the perfect side of rough while I learn what he likes.
And I’m still listening. Definitely listening.
“You’re so sexy like this, Jake. Fuck.” Darren moans long and low when I go as far as I can and drag my tongue along the underside of his shaft the whole way back. I moan because he said my name again. “I’ve made myself come so many times imagining you sucking me off. Is this why you wanted to see me tonight? You wanted to suck me off in your spa?”
His questions are mostly rhetorical, but I’m not sure how I’d answer anyway, torn between admitting how much I’ve wanted exactly this and arguing that I also loved all the conversation that came before. I loved dinner and wine and ending up in my backyard with him. The smiles and stories. Even the mistakes I made and his mixed-up feelings. The night has been full of all the things Darren and I have agreed to share, and our friendship matters as much as the ache in my body I won’t be able to ignore forever.
“You’re gonna make me come so fucking hard,” he pants. “So much better than when I’m alone. Your mouth is perfect, and you’re so fucking hot like this, baby.”
If I thought hearing Darren say my name was arousing, it has nothing on the pet name that could’ve been an accident or habit. My hips thrust toward the jets that have a chance of taking care of what my hands are too busy to finish, and even dazed and needy, Darren notices.
“You like that?” He tugs on my hair then, and I want and I want and I want. “Jake, baby, look at me. Can I come in your mouth? Will you suck my cock ‘til I come down your throat?”
Wide-eyed and wasted, I nod as well as I can without letting him go. Darren’s hand leaves my hair long enough for him to trail it over my beard, pausing when he can drag his thumb through the saliva on my chin. I thrust toward the jets again, and he smiles.
“Get messier for me.”
I don’t have time to think about the specifics of a relatively vague request, though it’s easy to rid myself of restraint when Darren demands it of me. I’m not sure there’s a way to get this wrong, no matter how eager I am to get it right, so I suck on his sac and twist my hand around his length and bob my head and work him over with my tongue, all while letting it all get wetter. Louder. Filthier.
Messier, just like he wanted.
“Yeah, that’s perfect. Fuck, baby. I’m so close. Want you to taste me. And I want you to make me taste myself on your tongue.”
Oh. That does it, the last of my self-control gone when my orgasm courses through me, my body still untouched by everything but the water. The hand not stroking Darren is clutching his side, and I groan while my mouth moves over him again and again. He wasn’t lying about being close, and he chants something about it now, mumbling with no apparent beginning or end. Whether it’s my instinct or his grip on my head, I ease backto focus the pressure where he wants it, and then I’m right there when he jerks forward and starts to come.
It's interesting, knowing on an intellectual level what to expect and still being surprised somehow, my first experience with this one I won’t forget, even as I’m still dizzy with my own pleasure. I want more of this—ofDarren—but he’s sitting forward and grabbing for me and his tongue sweeps into my mouth and I give for as long as he wants to take. There’s nothing careful about the kiss, his arms around me when he guides us back into the water.
“Have you had enough of my objectifying you?” I tease.
“Not even close,” he says, reaching down to where my trunks rest around the middle of my thighs, then smiling against my lips. “You came already. With my cock in your mouth.”
His certainty keeps it from becoming a question, and I don’t answer when he carefully tugs at the waistband and covers me up again. Steam from the spa surrounds us in the cool night air, and I don’t want to leave it behind, especially while Darren has become almost reverent with his touch. I sit so he can straddle my lap, naked and soft and stunning, and I hold on to his hips because I don’t know what else to do with my hands.
“Baby,” I murmur. “Do you—is that a regular habit of yours? Calling people baby?”
Darren doesn’t look away, but his head tips sideways, and I can almost count each exhale while he decides what to say to me. He’ll be honest—I’m not concerned about that—but it’s not a surprise that there’s no simple yes or no.
“You liked it. I know you’re not asking me because it bothered you.”
“No, I’m not.”
“And you know who I am,” he says. “You’ve never accused me of doing anything wrong.”
“Not at all.”
And he couldn’t be doing anythingwrong, anyway. That would make no sense. There’s never been the slightest suggestion that our arrangement be anything but casual, and I’m not insecure enough to worry about how I compare to the men Darren is with on the nights he and I don’t speak. Still, I’m not a fool. I’ve seen him in action for years. I don’t know whether he uses the same lines with everyone—it’s why I’m curious about it now—but I’m certain our friendship makes something different, and I think I’m trying to figure out where that difference lies.
“Yeah, I call a lot of people baby while we’re fucking. It’s sexy. It makes them feel good, which makesmefeel good. I can’t promise I’ll stop, with them or with you, and I don’t think you’re asking me to. But what I can promise is that when I’m fucking you, I’m fuckingyou, Jake. And I wouldn’t be doing that at all if I didn’t want to.”
“Because you’re not in this for charity.”
“I’ll leave the good deeds to you,” he says.
The insinuation that he’s any less generous than I am is laughable, but the quick flicker of hurt in his eyes isn’t funny. I almost ask about it, but Darren kisses me before I can, a remarkably slow thing that I never want to stop. It won't lead anywhere, andwith each perfect stroke of his tongue against mine, I realize this might’ve been what I meant to ask before.
Isthisa regular thing?
Does Darren kiss everyone as if sex was always going to be the second best part of the night?