Page 60 of Studs Up
“It didn’t hurt,” he said with a gentle smile, and I think I believed him. His fingers brushed the hair off my forehead.
“But…” I trailed off as the fingers brushed down my ear and grazed along my neck. He loved touching me, and I couldn’t get enough.
“You’re waiting for me to decide I’ve fulfilled my curiosities and cast you aside, aren’t you?”
“Um,” way to hit the nail on the head. “Yeah.”
“Only two things have ever felt right in my life. Soccer and you.”
I blinked, trying to clear my vision so I could hear him better.
“Me? But you hate me,” I said. He peaked an eyebrow at me. Nolan slid his arm under my neck and kissed me, daring me to say that again. I gave in pretty quickly and let him kiss me into the mattress.
When he finally let me breathe again, he hovered over me, taking me in. He could see right through me. Everything inside me was exposed and for the first time, I didn’t feel threatened. I was sure Nolan had no intention of hurting me. Not the way he held me. He was safe. A shroud protecting me from my world.
“Are you okay?” He asked. No. I was one hundred percent not okay. This wasn’t supposed to be good or amazing. I wasn’t supposed to be shivering from aftershocks or his kisses. This was supposed to be so terrible I would never want to do it again.
“It’s not what I thought it would be like,” I whispered. He tilted his head curiously. His hand cupped my neck, and his thumb stroked the edge of my jaw.
“What did you think it would be like?”
“Aggressive, angry, not like this.”
“Like what?” He prodded.
Fingers grazed down my throat and along my collarbone. How on earth did he expect me to focus when he was touching me like that?
“Gentle,” I breathed. He hummed like that should have been an obvious observation.
“If you like aggressive, we could do that,” he said.
“Maybe sometimes, but I like this,” I said. He smiled, and it was perfect.
I was still seeing stars, and my teeth vibrated as he slid off the bed and padded around the vacant bed to the bathroom.
I couldn’t move. I lay there and waited for my vision to come back and my heart to find a normal rhythm. He’s the gay virgin here, so why was I the one feeling like this was the first time?
The shower turned on, and after a moment, steam billowed out through the door.
A cramp in my toe made me get up. I stretched it out and followed Nolan into the bathroom.
When I got there, I got on my knees. Hot water ran down my back as I drew him in, sucking and licking gently from his balls to his tip. He leaned back against the wall and let me have my way. I sucked him all the way until I gagged on him.
“God, yes, Holden,” he groaned. He held me down for a moment before he released me for air and then pushed me back. I went all too willingly. When he came, it was an explosion of cum, and when I swallowed, he hissed and moaned.
Emptied and satisfied, Nolan pulled me up and held me close.
“You are going to be the death of me, Holden Monroe,” he whispered. I shuddered and slid my arms around him.
As promised, he made me ice my ankle, and I made him ice his bruise. We sat in bed and watched a weird eighties movie on the TV with our ice packs. Nolan had opinions on the lack of character development. It was an eighties action movie, the only character development was winning. It was one of the best evenings I had in a long, long time.
We slept together that night and every night after. There were no nightmares, no panic attacks, no worries.
Everything I had given up on was right here, and I could never have it. How simple and easy it had been to fall into the intimacy and care he gave me. It was unfair. So fucking unfair that I turned my face into his neck and tried to pretend that someone somewhere wasn’t going to rip it away from me with a simple threat in a text.
Nolan
I woke first and didn’t move. Holden was tucked into my chest, sleeping soundly. We played today. The last game of the break, and by this time tomorrow, we’d be on separate planes back to our separate lives.
