When I heard his soft pant against my ear, felt his hips still and his body tense, another shudder ripped through me.
Gay sex, one. Straight sex, zero.
Chapter Twelve
Gay Sex 101 With Professor Peter
Lying under Peter was awkward, but not completely so. My legs cramped, necessitating the return of my feet to the cushion. Other than that, the weight of him against me was comforting, so I stayed relatively motionless. I started another skin-adventure on his back, the pads of my fingers trailing down the shallow channel in the center.
I was still guarded, half expecting the curve of Peter’s lips to bolt after his other fleeting smiles, leaving him with a scowl—or worse. I scanned his face, searching for hints that now he’d scored, Hostility and Apathy would be back up to bat. His mouth held only a serene smile—a vision I would pocket away forever. Just in case.
I continued to study him, committing every freckle to memory. He wasn’t as untouchably beautiful as I once thought. He had an ethereal quality in the pinkness of his skin and the deep blue of his eyes, but still, his nose was a little too pointy, with a tiny ball at the end. His cheeks had a few acne scars; and his top lip, though shaped exquisitely with a dip in the middle, was too thin.
“You’re staring again,” he chided softly, dusting his mouth across mine. I marveled that even that small bit of contact made my heart stop, sputter and speed ahead.
My fingers continuing their journey along his sides, under his shirt, cruising along the curve of his ass. Every inch of him was hard and soft, rough and smooth. I could hardly breathe with the force of want he elicited in me. “I was just thinking you’re not as perfect as I imagined,” I replied.
Instead of being affronted, Peter laughed. That sound also hit me deeply with a burst of warmth. I could see the appeal of drugs. If this stomach-sinking, dizzy, falling-through-space feeling was anything like taking heroin? Sign me up.
“And here I was thinking you were more perfect.”
“That’s the orgasm talking.” I smirked.
“So orgasms give me beer goggles, but they make you start seeing flaws?” His eyebrow moved slowly up.
“Saturday.”
“Today is Tuesday. Does coming also make you muddled?” His smirk was going straight to my groin, not a completely unpleasant feeling—except for the sticky mess soaking through my pants.
“You make me muddled. Saturday was when I started having clearer vision when it came to you.”
“Ah. Because you thought I killed Iss,” he said, starting to get up. I sighed at the loss of his smile and pulled him back down.
“Partly,” I nodded, “Yes. But also because of this.” I reached for his hand braced against the sofa near my ear and blind-felt for the ‘Iss’ tattoo-marred skin.
The center of Peter’s brow creased as he looked at me and cocked his head. “Because Iss tattooed me?”
“I’ve seen the tattoo before,” I said, brushing back the fall of auburn tickling my forehead as he leaned over me. I had to smile when it fell back in place—having yet another reason to touch him tenderly. I didn’t see Peter as accepting gentle gestures, so I was glad for the excuse.
Peter pushed up to his knees and lifted my feet to rest on his lap as he sat down. I was as surprised by the abrupt move as I was by the affectionate contact. He frowned, rubbing the blue ink and resting his wrist against my ankle. “The tattoo,” Peter said, “…Jess?”
“You knew him?” I propped on my elbows, doing the math in my head. Peter would have been ten?
He responded with a shake of his head “I knew of him. It was like last year when Joe told me about Jess and Iss. How did you know Jess?”
“Back up to Iss giving you that tattoo,” I said instead of giving him an answer. Talking about Jess was too painful. I sat up, grimacing as my air conditioning reminded me that my pants had a spreading stain in the crotch.
“Shower first,” Peter said, and I had to grab his wrist to keep him from going.
“No, shower later. Tattoo first.”
He shook my hand free and bit his lip. I wasn’t yet immune to that particular enticement, but I kept my breath quiet as it tripped in my throat.
“Iss and I are counting cash one night. Pretty big night for sales. I took in around twenty grand in three hours dealing at a newly opened club. Those kind of numbers get you noticed. Not that I understood that’s why Iss did it at the time. I was too busy being angry over being made his possession.”
He blew out a breath and unbuttoned his jeans, dropping them to the floor. He was more easy in his nudity than in conversation. I, on the other hand, just went from sated-to-boing between his letting go of his pants and their hitting the floor. This wasn’t the way I wanted to see Peter undress for me—shrugging off his clothes in a puddle next to my sofa. However, I wasn’t going to complain. There was no bad way to see Peter naked.