Tell Me It's Real(101)

I stared at him. “Vince….”

He smiled. It was beautiful. “Paul.”

I shook my head, but my gaze never left his. “It’s not possible. If anything, it’s just infatuation, though I still don’t get it. You can’t feel like that for someone so quickly. It’s not realistic.”

“And yet it’s there anyway,” he said, kissing me again. “You’ll see.” He laid himself against me, resting his full weight on me. He reached up with his hands and brushed them over my cheeks. I kissed the palm of his right hand because it seemed like the right thing to do. And because I wanted to.

“I don’t….”

He silenced me with a finger. “It doesn’t matter now.”

I nodded even though I thought it mattered the most.

Using his feet, he kicked off my jeans the rest of the way, leaving them discarded under his bed. He let go of my face and reached out of my vision. Something snicked near my ear and he rose up off me, pressing his knees between my legs on the floor, spreading them out gently. The soft hairs of his thighs rubbed against mine as his hand went between us. I lifted my hips in the air, so very self-conscious but unable to stop. He slid wet fingers over my cock to my balls and then behind them. He pressed them against me, and the initial intrusion caused me to bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yes. More. Please.”

And he did. Moments later, his dick was sheathed in rubber and pressed against my entrance. The carpet scraped against my back, but not once did either of us suggest getting back on the bed. We were fine, we knew, right where we were.

“Paul,” he said roughly as he breached me.

“Vince,” I groaned, rocking my head back. It burned like so much fire, but I didn’t want it to stop. I pushed back against him until his thighs pressed against my ass. He undulated on top of me as he latched his teeth onto my neck below my jaw.

It wasn’t going to last long; I don’t think it was meant to. We’d gotten each other too worked up at the bar, our nerves tender and frayed. Too many things were flitting through me that hadn’t been there a week before, and I was overwhelmed, like I was being consumed completely.

Sweat formed between us, my cock trapped against his stomach as he slid into me, creating a delicious friction that I didn’t want to push away. I felt fluid and slippery, and he growled against my neck, his breath light and quick as his hips snapped back and forth.

“I’m going,” I whispered.

“Go,” he panted.

I did, shooting between us. Moments later, I felt him stiffen against me, pressing his hips forward again, and he stayed there, a breathy sigh falling out of his mouth that formed my name as his body shook. He kissed my cheek. My chin. My eyes. My nose. And then he found my lips again, and I kissed him for all I was worth, because that little light inside me had exploded into a blinding sun.





IT WAS never an option that I was going home that night. As soon as we both stopped shaking and started feeling congealed, he pulled me up and dragged me into the shower with him, which, if you’ve never showered with Vince Taylor, you’re missing out on quite the experience. He does this thing with the shower gel and his finger in my—

You know what? Never mind. That’s probably not the best thing to share. Let’s just say that I was clean. Inside and out.

Okay, fine: he put it in my butt, and I made a weird squeaking noise that rebounded around the shower stall. Fun.

After, he made me stand in front of him while he dried me off, taking his time as he got to my legs, kissing my flaccid cock as he rubbed the towel over my shins. I blushed furiously at this and at the attention he gave, but he just laughed and did it again.

He made me use his toothbrush, though I balked at first. He reminded me that he’d used mine, and he was pretty sure that since we just fucked, we were past sharing any kind of germs. Then I made the mistake of telling him that I would do it, but when he rimmed me for the first time, I wasn’t going to use the same toothbrush as him. As soon as the words fell out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back, because I hadn’t meant to say that in the slightest. He wouldn’t let me brush my teeth until I repeated myself, demanding that I say it verbatim. When I did, an evil gleam formed in his eyes, and I accidentally used half a tube of Crest in one squeeze, getting toothpaste all over my hand and the counter, which, to be fair, looked oddly sexual, causing Vince to get all growly again.

“Bed,” he said, not even allowing me to pretend to look for my jeans as he pushed me back into the bedroom. I found it slightly odd that I didn’t even try to leave, or make some excuse about anything so that I could slink out and go home to lie in my own bed and wonder if the last couple of hours had been nothing more than a hard-core wet dream. I found it even more odd when the fact that I was staying gave me a sense of relief. I chose not to look into that too closely.