Qhuinn ditched his shitkickers. His leathers. His shirt.
Blay orgasmed before he even started for the bed, the male arching up and moaning as his head shot back on the thin pillow, and his hips jerked.
Like Qhuinn buck-ass naked was too much to handle.
Best. Compliment. Ever.
Qhuinn attacked the bed, pouncing on Blay, finding that velvet mouth and taking it over. Clothes were ripped—the buttons on the fly of Blay’s leathers popping free and landing like coins tossed onto the linoleum, his shirt getting torn into pieces. And then they were skin-on-skin, nothing separating their flesh.
As they writhed against each other, Qhuinn knew what he wanted. And he was too desperate and hungry to ask nicely—or even talk about it.
All he could do was break off from that mouth, roll away from Blay…and reach behind, pulling the male onto him as he stretched one leg up.
What do you know, Blay took over from there. And knew exactly what to do.
Qhuinn felt himself get positioned with rough hands—before he knew it, he was up on his knees, his face in the mattress, his breath hammering out of his mouth. It was all so foreign, letting someone else take charge—and he felt vulnerable, too, even through the wanting—
“Oh fuck!” he bellowed as the possession was struck, the sensations of pain and pleasure, stretching and accommodation, mixing into a cocktail that made him come so hard he saw stars.
And then Blay started moving.
Qhuinn braced his arms and bore backward, holding his own as that whole virginity thing was done and dusted but good.
Oh, man, it was an incredible rush, and it only got better. As Blay’s arm snaked around his chest and locked on, the angle changed, the penetrations going deeper and deeper, faster and faster, the bed beginning to rock back and forth against the wall, the panting in his ear growing harsher and harsher….
The cusp was the single greatest burn he’d ever felt, the edge of not just his release, but Blay’s, tightening him up all over, his thighs clenching, his pelvis tilting to receive, his great arms holding them both up off the bed—
When Blay came, the thrusts locked him in so hard Qhuinn’s head banged into the wall—not that he noticed or cared. And then that cock started jerking wildly…
And Qhuinn felt well and truly owned for the first time in his life.
It was…nothing short of a miracle.
Naturally, it took a while for Blay to have had his fill. And, funnily enough, Qhuinn was so totally fine with that.
When things eventually reached a pause that lasted longer than a minute and a half, Qhuinn released the tension in his arms and sank down to the bed, turning onto his side. Blay was apparently exhausted as well, his body following the lead and stretching out behind him.
Blay’s arm stayed in place.
And what mattered now, in spite of the whole experience, was the loose, heavy weight of that limb. Lying as it did, it made them not two males who’d had sex and happened to be side by side…but lovers.
In actuality, he’d never had a lover before—and not because he’d just bottomed for the first time in his life. He’d had plenty of sex. But there had never been someone he’d wanted to hold him afterward. Never someone he’d wanted to hold back.
Yeah…Blay was his first real lover.
And though he’d missed out on that honor when it came to the guy, it seemed apt that Blay be his. No one could ever take away your first—and he counted himself lucky. He’d heard through the grapevine that a lot of times it was either really painful—for females—or just such a mad scramble, nothing registered.
This, he would remember forever.
Behind him, Blay was still breathing deeply, the heat radiating from him, their bodies still joined.
And Qhuinn wanted to take advantage of this quiet space: Ever so slowly—like maybe if he didn’t move too fast the guy wouldn’t notice—he covered Blay’s forearm with his own…then put his hand over his friend’s.
Closing his eyes, he prayed that this was okay. That they could stay like this for just a little bit.
Shit, the sudden fear he felt was nothing short of torture, and it made him think about the nature of courage.
Specifically how little he’d had of it when it had come to Blay.
From out of the blue, he remembered telling the guy that he only saw himself with a female, long-term. That that was the reason he couldn’t take Blay up on what he was offering. At the time, he’d meant every word of it—but he hadn’t looked very far into the conviction.
He’d been a coward back then, hadn’t he.
“God, I feel raw,” he whispered.
“What?” came a sleepy response.
“I feel…” Exposed.