Miguel snorted another laugh, but after a moment’s hesitation, he settled back against him. He rested against Hector’s chest, with his bent legs laying half over one of Hector’s. As the movie played on, the hero and his crew making a perilous escape from the zombie horde, Hector brought his hand up from the back of the couch, absently running it through Miguel’s hair. The curls were soft, sliding through his fingers.
Eventually the action on screen slowed, giving both the hero and the viewers a moment to breathe. Hector’s attention wandered from the screen, and he realized it was strange to have his hand in another man’s hair. He and Miguel were so close, and it was such a habit from watching movies with dates that he’d done it without even thinking. He abruptly stopped. Sitting there stiffly, his hand frozen in Miguel’s hair, he wondered if he should apologize. Before he could decide, Miguel turned his head slightly, his lips brushing Hector’s neck as he spoke.
“That felt nice,” he said in a soft whisper. “Keep going.”
His chest suddenly tight, Hector relaxed his fingers and slowly started playing them through Miguel’s hair again. His eyes were on the TV, but he wasn’t really watching the movie. Neither was Miguel. His face stayed turned into Hector’s neck, warm breath softly blowing over his skin. It was a surprise and yet not when Miguel pressed a kiss to his throat.
At that moment, Hector should have moved away from Miguel. Hell, he should have gotten off the couch altogether. But he didn’t. He sat there, letting Miguel brush more kisses up and down the side of his neck. A hand landed on his thigh. Hector swallowed hard, then turned to look down at his friend.
Hector knew by the way Miguel went still that the other man had sensed his movement, but he didn’t react for several seconds. His heart pounding, Hector waited for Miguel to look at him. Questions raced through his brain. What are we doing? Why are we doing it? How far is it going to go? But when Miguel finally raised his head to meet Hector’s gaze, none of those questions made the trip from his skull to his tongue. He sat there, staring down at Miguel, into dark eyes shining in the light from the TV. Hector was warm everywhere Miguel pressed against him, but his body heated even further as he struggled with what to do, what to say. He could see Miguel was just as confused, just as surprised that this was happening. Miguel bit his lip in hesitation, before beating Hector to the punch with a question of his own.
“Can I?” His fingers flexed on Hector’s thigh.
Hector knew what he was asking, but he didn’t speak to answer. He couldn’t speak. Instead, he spread his legs slightly, giving tacit permission. Miguel’s hand slid up and over, rubbing his shaft through the soft material of his sweats. He pressed his lips to Hector’s throat again, lightly sucking at his skin. Hector’s body reacted accordingly. With a hand on his dick and soft lips against his neck, he got hard. He closed his eyes, dropping his head back. Miguel slipped a hand into his sweats, going past his underwear to grip his naked cock.
“Fuck,” Hector softly swore as Miguel started stroking him. The movie continued to play, but Hector still heard Miguel’s moan when the first drops of pre-cum spilled down his shaft.
“Can I taste it?” Miguel’s voice was shaky, a breathless mix of arousal and nervousness.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hector chanted the curse word in his head. He should stop this. But he’d come this far. He was hard as hell, and he was going to have to take care of his erection anyway. Might as well handle it with the person who’d caused it. His own voice was gravelly and thick with desire when he responded. “Yeah.”
At his answer, Miguel tugged at his sweats, and Hector lifted his hips so he could pull them down. Miguel shifted up onto his knees, then bent to lick across the tip. Hector clenched his jaw to hold back another curse when that slick tongue stroked over him. A subtle upward curl of his hips had the head of his cock bumping against Miguel’s lips. Warm breath blew over his rigid length when Miguel asked his next question.
“You want me to suck you?”
A rush of heat swept through Hector and his cock throbbed. Did he want it? Hell yeah. But should he let it go that far? His eyes closed, body strung tight with desire and confusion, Hector silently deliberated.
“Hector?”
How could that soft, sweet voice sound so sexy? And why hadn’t he ever noticed it before? Hector answered the gentle prodding. “Yes.”
Miguel teased him with a few more licks before he pulled Hector’s shaft into his mouth. Hector tightened his hold on the hair he still held. Letting Miguel suck him off was wrong on multiple levels. But it felt too damn good for Hector to make him stop.
He participated fully, thrusting his hips, guiding Miguel’s pace with the grip he had on his hair. Miguel moaned around his shaft when Hector pushed him down hard. Hector groaned at the vibration, at the slick sound as Miguel’s mouth moved on his wet cock. He looked down, watching the flickering light of the TV play over Miguel’s dark hair as his head bobbed up and down in his lap.
“Damn, that feels good.”
Miguel’s response was to rapidly flick his tongue over the sensitive opening on Hector’s cock. Hector’s breath caught in his chest at that little trick and his balls drew up tight.
“Gonna come.” He took his hand off Miguel’s hair, giving him the choice how far he took it.
Miguel continued sucking for several more delicious seconds. Then he stopped, using his hand to stroke. Miguel rose and buried his face in the side of Hector’s neck. Hector didn’t know if it was because he wanted to be close or because he was hiding. Either way, Hector brought an arm up to wrap around Miguel, holding him close as he thrust his cock into the fist gripping him so tightly. Hector grabbed at the couch cushion with his other hand. His release was coming, and it was Miguel giving it to him. Miguel’s small hand wrapped around his cock, Miguel’s soft hair brushing his jaw, Miguel’s body pressed into his. Hector’s thighs trembled and his abs sucked in tight.
Then Miguel whispered in his ear. “Hector.”
It was only his name. But hearing Miguel say it in that soft, husky, desperate tone was enough to set him off. His cock pulsed, and he was coming, his release spilling down his shaft onto Miguel’s hand. Miguel pressed closer and stroked even faster. Hector moaned and shuddered through it until Miguel finally slowed, then stopped his hand.
Hector slumped down, his head resting on the back of the couch, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. When the fog of arousal finally cleared, it filtered into his brain what he’d just done. He shot up off the couch, cursing again. Snatching up one of the napkins from the coffee table, he started to clean himself up, but paused when he caught sight of Miguel. His eyes were wide, and he’d shrunk back into the couch pillows, his arms tightly wrapped around his raised knees. He looked scared.
“What the fuck?” Hector snapped. “You think I’m going to hit you or something?”
“I just sucked off a straight dude. So yeah, getting hit is a concern.”
“Dios,” Hector swore. “I wouldn’t hit you for that. I wouldn’t hit you for any reason! And I said yeah, didn’t I? Fuck. Fuck!” He’d said yeah to another man sucking his dick. Hector strode into his bedroom and grabbed the first pair of shoes he saw. He dropped down on the foot of the bed to stuff his feet in them then immediately popped back up.
In the living room, he swiped his keys off the table. “I’m going for a drive. Don’t wait up,” he said without looking at Miguel. Hector blew out of the apartment, leaving Miguel sitting there on the couch. Unfortunately, the memory of what he’d done went along for the ride.
Ten minutes later, Hector was parked in the lot of a local burger joint. The engine idled as he sat there drinking a soda, his mind on what had just transpired between him and Miguel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’d let Miguel blow him. Miguel. A man. A man who’d just gotten out of an abusive relationship. A man Hector was supposed to be watching out for. A man he’d known since they were kids. A man he’d felt something for back when they were teenagers.