into Bo’s arms, effectively keeping him from running. He hadn’t meant to kiss Dylan, he didn’t actually know that he had, except that Dylan’s tongue was in his mouth and then he knew what he’d done.
Held captive by the death grip on his arms and the stunned look in Dyl’s eyes, he straddled his best friend, his dick so damned hard he’d come if Dylan so much as looked at it. Dylan’s shorts and t-shirt were wet where he’d dripped onto him. A thick bulge beneath the loose cotton shorts caught his attention but he wouldn’t let himself think about that right now. No way did Dylan have a hard-on for him. No way. He couldn’t breathe or think or run. All these years of keeping this shit from Dylan. Of wanting to be with him. Football and Dylan. That was all he’d ever wanted. Now he had football but was losing Dylan. But Dylan seemed to be saying what he wanted to hear. He wanted so much to do as Dylan asked, but then he’d confirm what Dylan already suspected. No way was he willing to risk that much no matter how many times Dyl licked his lips and said the word. Yet he couldn’t stop staring at the word on those lips.
Bo didn’t lean over and do what the lips asked for. He remained frozen, hovering above his friend, blood pumping too fast in some places and too slowly in others. His brain for example, no blood at all in there. He had no idea how the thing even worked anymore. Dylan did a half crunch, holding Bo’s arms to keep himself in the position, and kissed him. God, it was like, god, and god…Dyl’s lips were so damned soft, his tongue hot, wet, insistent. Bo opened his mouth and inhaled like a man rescued from drowning. Breathing through his nose, he crushed Dylan to his chest. And then they were flat on the floor again, body to body, mouth to mouth, dick to dick.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The words were an imitation of his from earlier, but different. Softer, full of wonder and regret. Bo had no answer besides the obvious.
“Why didn’t you?” He forgot what the question was or why he wasn’t supposed to be on the floor humping his best friend. Dylan’s hands slid along his back, lover-like. Exploring him, delving inside his swim trunks. Fingernails dug into his ass cheeks. He moaned into Dylan’s open mouth. His hips took on a mind of their own, rocking his excruciatingly hard cock along the hard ridge trapped beneath him. His skin dried only to become sweat soaked as he moved.
“Take these off.” Dylan pushed at his trunks, shoving them down around his thighs. Bo did as he was told and shimmied the wet material down and off. When he was finished, he grasped the waistband of Dylan’s shorts and yanked, tearing the thin fabric in his haste to find the heat he craved. “My shirt.” Dylan grunted against his mouth. In a couple of seconds, they were naked, together, very together on the carpet in Dylan’s living room.
“Where’s your mom?” Seemed an important question now that there could be no explaining away what they did.
Dylan slid his mouth along Bo’s neck, licking him as he went. “Work, she’s on her long shift. You taste so fucking good. I knew you would.” The wonder of discovery in his words had Bo shaking. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t happening. Dylan’s breath caught, he trembled, his mouth still doing wicked things to Bo’s neck. He couldn’t stop the need to grind himself into his friend. God help him.
Bo moved his knees in between Dylan’s legs and lowered himself to the floor. Dylan didn’t complain about being trapped beneath him. He made a sound in his throat, one that made Bo’s blood boil. Helpless, hopeless, mindless pleasure, oh god, yes. Dylan moved with him, rubbing his dick to Bo’s, small gasps as shocks of electricity raced between them. Bo could feel him shiver. Dylan’s eyes were hooded and dark. He’d never seen him look this way before. As if he…oh, god, this was good. Like nothing he’d ever expected or could
Held captive by the death grip on his arms and the stunned look in Dyl’s eyes, he straddled his best friend, his dick so damned hard he’d come if Dylan so much as looked at it. Dylan’s shorts and t-shirt were wet where he’d dripped onto him. A thick bulge beneath the loose cotton shorts caught his attention but he wouldn’t let himself think about that right now. No way did Dylan have a hard-on for him. No way. He couldn’t breathe or think or run. All these years of keeping this shit from Dylan. Of wanting to be with him. Football and Dylan. That was all he’d ever wanted. Now he had football but was losing Dylan. But Dylan seemed to be saying what he wanted to hear. He wanted so much to do as Dylan asked, but then he’d confirm what Dylan already suspected. No way was he willing to risk that much no matter how many times Dyl licked his lips and said the word. Yet he couldn’t stop staring at the word on those lips.
Bo didn’t lean over and do what the lips asked for. He remained frozen, hovering above his friend, blood pumping too fast in some places and too slowly in others. His brain for example, no blood at all in there. He had no idea how the thing even worked anymore. Dylan did a half crunch, holding Bo’s arms to keep himself in the position, and kissed him. God, it was like, god, and god…Dyl’s lips were so damned soft, his tongue hot, wet, insistent. Bo opened his mouth and inhaled like a man rescued from drowning. Breathing through his nose, he crushed Dylan to his chest. And then they were flat on the floor again, body to body, mouth to mouth, dick to dick.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The words were an imitation of his from earlier, but different. Softer, full of wonder and regret. Bo had no answer besides the obvious.
“Why didn’t you?” He forgot what the question was or why he wasn’t supposed to be on the floor humping his best friend. Dylan’s hands slid along his back, lover-like. Exploring him, delving inside his swim trunks. Fingernails dug into his ass cheeks. He moaned into Dylan’s open mouth. His hips took on a mind of their own, rocking his excruciatingly hard cock along the hard ridge trapped beneath him. His skin dried only to become sweat soaked as he moved.
“Take these off.” Dylan pushed at his trunks, shoving them down around his thighs. Bo did as he was told and shimmied the wet material down and off. When he was finished, he grasped the waistband of Dylan’s shorts and yanked, tearing the thin fabric in his haste to find the heat he craved. “My shirt.” Dylan grunted against his mouth. In a couple of seconds, they were naked, together, very together on the carpet in Dylan’s living room.
“Where’s your mom?” Seemed an important question now that there could be no explaining away what they did.
Dylan slid his mouth along Bo’s neck, licking him as he went. “Work, she’s on her long shift. You taste so fucking good. I knew you would.” The wonder of discovery in his words had Bo shaking. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t happening. Dylan’s breath caught, he trembled, his mouth still doing wicked things to Bo’s neck. He couldn’t stop the need to grind himself into his friend. God help him.
Bo moved his knees in between Dylan’s legs and lowered himself to the floor. Dylan didn’t complain about being trapped beneath him. He made a sound in his throat, one that made Bo’s blood boil. Helpless, hopeless, mindless pleasure, oh god, yes. Dylan moved with him, rubbing his dick to Bo’s, small gasps as shocks of electricity raced between them. Bo could feel him shiver. Dylan’s eyes were hooded and dark. He’d never seen him look this way before. As if he…oh, god, this was good. Like nothing he’d ever expected or could
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