down to his lips, and I see his tongue flick across them. I remember what it felt like in my mouth, against my own tongue, and for the first time I let myself wonder what it would feel like somewhere else. Against my nipples, maybe. They’ve always been sensitive. Or my cock, which is already starting to firm up in my jeans just at the thought of getting some action from Griff.
I moisten my own lips, and realize he’s waiting for me to make the first move. So I screw up my courage, lift my hand to rest on the side of his neck, and meet his lips with mine.
He expects it this time, so there’s no awkward moment of him being stiff. He meets me halfway, and his eagerness stokes the fire that’s quickly growing in me. When his tongue swipes across my lip, I open for him and let him take the lead, enjoying the feeling as he strokes mine with a slow, exploratory touch.
The longer we kiss, the more vocal he gets. It starts off as soft, barely audible sounds that are more vibrations against my mouth than anything else. As my tongue tangles with his and my hands begin to explore the hard planes of his body, the sounds get louder and longer. Low, masculine moans that send liquid heat straight to my groin. Fuck, that’s sexy as hell.
I touch him over his clothes, tracing over his shoulder muscles, his arms, then inward over his collarbone, his pecs, and down to his abdomen. I can't really touch too much more than that, and I let out a soft groan of frustration against his mouth.
"We can always get more comfortable, if you want," he says, and demonstrates by lying back on the bed.
I look down at him, splayed out before me. His shirt’s come up a little bit, revealing a stretch of his tight abdomen. I can see the light patch of brown hair that dips just beneath the waistband of his jeans, and my dick seems to appreciate the sight.
With him laid out before me, his arms behind his head, it's an invitation to touch wherever and however I want. I draw my tongue over my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry as a desert.
"Scoot all the way onto the bed," I say softly, my voice a little deeper than it usually is.
He obeys, moving until almost all of him is draped over my bed. He doesn't completely fit, and he has to draw up his knees a little bit, but all of him is laid out before me now, begging to be touched.
I take full advantage, feeling a curiosity and excitement I haven't felt in years. I start with his face, enjoying the rough scratch of his stubble beneath my fingers. Then I moved down to his throat, and leave my hand there for a moment as he swallows beneath me.
I move down, over his chest, finding his nipples through his clothes. My thumbs brush over them and he shivers, closing his eyes. A satisfied grin spreads across my lips as I realize he's at least as sensitive as I am, if not more. It's something I want to explore later, but for now, I've set a goal for myself. A limitation: Over the clothes action only.
Honestly, if we do much more than this, I'm a little afraid I'm going to start thinking with my dick instead of my actual brain.
For now, though, I'm content to touch him as is. And because that little bit of skin is showing, I consider it fair game and run my fingers over his abdomen. The hair there is soft against my skin, and a part of me wants to rub my cheek against it. It feels weird to even think that, but I guess desire always makes you think strange things.
That and the fact that, as soon as I touch him, skin to skin, his muscles flinch underneath me, and he sucks in a breath.
"You're going to do this until you have me begging, aren't you?"
My grin broadens. It's not my plan, but it is appealing.
I move down, using both hands to follow his thighs. He's got the legs of a runner, thick and muscular and just begging to be touched. It's amazing to me that one person's body can feel so different from another's, but where I'm used to soft, supple flesh beneath the fabric, Griff gives me hard, defined
I moisten my own lips, and realize he’s waiting for me to make the first move. So I screw up my courage, lift my hand to rest on the side of his neck, and meet his lips with mine.
He expects it this time, so there’s no awkward moment of him being stiff. He meets me halfway, and his eagerness stokes the fire that’s quickly growing in me. When his tongue swipes across my lip, I open for him and let him take the lead, enjoying the feeling as he strokes mine with a slow, exploratory touch.
The longer we kiss, the more vocal he gets. It starts off as soft, barely audible sounds that are more vibrations against my mouth than anything else. As my tongue tangles with his and my hands begin to explore the hard planes of his body, the sounds get louder and longer. Low, masculine moans that send liquid heat straight to my groin. Fuck, that’s sexy as hell.
I touch him over his clothes, tracing over his shoulder muscles, his arms, then inward over his collarbone, his pecs, and down to his abdomen. I can't really touch too much more than that, and I let out a soft groan of frustration against his mouth.
"We can always get more comfortable, if you want," he says, and demonstrates by lying back on the bed.
I look down at him, splayed out before me. His shirt’s come up a little bit, revealing a stretch of his tight abdomen. I can see the light patch of brown hair that dips just beneath the waistband of his jeans, and my dick seems to appreciate the sight.
With him laid out before me, his arms behind his head, it's an invitation to touch wherever and however I want. I draw my tongue over my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry as a desert.
"Scoot all the way onto the bed," I say softly, my voice a little deeper than it usually is.
He obeys, moving until almost all of him is draped over my bed. He doesn't completely fit, and he has to draw up his knees a little bit, but all of him is laid out before me now, begging to be touched.
I take full advantage, feeling a curiosity and excitement I haven't felt in years. I start with his face, enjoying the rough scratch of his stubble beneath my fingers. Then I moved down to his throat, and leave my hand there for a moment as he swallows beneath me.
I move down, over his chest, finding his nipples through his clothes. My thumbs brush over them and he shivers, closing his eyes. A satisfied grin spreads across my lips as I realize he's at least as sensitive as I am, if not more. It's something I want to explore later, but for now, I've set a goal for myself. A limitation: Over the clothes action only.
Honestly, if we do much more than this, I'm a little afraid I'm going to start thinking with my dick instead of my actual brain.
For now, though, I'm content to touch him as is. And because that little bit of skin is showing, I consider it fair game and run my fingers over his abdomen. The hair there is soft against my skin, and a part of me wants to rub my cheek against it. It feels weird to even think that, but I guess desire always makes you think strange things.
That and the fact that, as soon as I touch him, skin to skin, his muscles flinch underneath me, and he sucks in a breath.
"You're going to do this until you have me begging, aren't you?"
My grin broadens. It's not my plan, but it is appealing.
I move down, using both hands to follow his thighs. He's got the legs of a runner, thick and muscular and just begging to be touched. It's amazing to me that one person's body can feel so different from another's, but where I'm used to soft, supple flesh beneath the fabric, Griff gives me hard, defined
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