Ex-Daredevil by Zoe Lee

Chapter 7

Eliott

I rose slowly, catching my pants around my hips and trying to be as comfortable with my nudity as he was, and took my keys when he held them out. Stepping carefully around his discarded clothes, I unlocked my door and flipped on the light to the stairs.

When he moved past me, sending me a sensuous, teasing glance over his shoulder, I was bound in place by the incredible tattoo that now spread across the snow-white back I’d just been imagining. It was a magical mass of vines and leaves—no buds or flowers though, of course—that had been laid in violet ink the color of his eyes into his shoulders, back, and the top swell of his ass cheeks. It was fascinating and I was unaccountably turned on by it.

“That’s beautiful,” I told him quietly, before I thought it through.

His come-hither look turned into an impatient thing and he rolled his eyes, pivoting to plant his hands on his hips, gloriously naked and perfectly well-lit. “It hurt like a son of a bitch,” he told me flatly. “Are you going to gawk all night or are we going to do it?”

For some reason, his usage of the rather juvenile do it made me grin.

He scowled at me, and it gave me back the tranquil confidence I usually wore like a second skin at work. I strolled past him, letting my pants slip so I flashed my own bare ass as I started to climb the stairs. I called mischievously as I went, “Are you coming, Gavin?”

“Not yet,” I heard him mutter petulantly.

It was I who laughed this time as he joined me in the bedroom, switching on a lamp so it glowed softly, and crooked an eyebrow slowly. I was thoroughly enjoying the way his lips were parted, betraying either heightening desire or a sudden onset of nerves.

“We’ve lost the rhythm of things a couple times. Do you want to start over again?”

Something raw and unreadable flashed over his face. “God, no!”

I sat on my bed, propping pillows behind my back, and stretched out my legs. Even when I was a teenager new to sex, I had never lost my composure or been rough or selfish, respecting my partners. But my heart had never pounded with a demanding lust like this either, so suddenly I wondered if I’d unknowingly locked something valuable away.

Just when I thought Gavin would change his mind and saunter off, he sat astride me once again, his hair hiding his slender torso. This time, he studied me as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted first, and it made me suck in a greedy, expectant breath.

As if my noise were a starting gun, he squirmed so that his thighs cradled my calves and his hands curved around the lean muscles at my waist. Then he got right to it, sucking my cock into his mouth without any preliminary licks. Gavin knew exactly what the fuck he was doing, I thought before my mind switched off as if there was a power outage. While I certainly wouldn’t judge him if he’d sucked off a million guys before this, my instinct was that this was more blissful talent, all his own instincts, more than a lot of practice.

“Oh, Jesus,” I mumbled, my hands lashing out and getting lost in his magnificent hair again, gripping tight. The way he was sucking me was utterly unlike the diligent, repetitive work other men I’d slept with had put into oral sex. He was voracious, hot and tight, his tongue stroking and then darting and flicking, humming around me hungrily.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had enjoyed me. My thoughts began, then blew apart beneath the sheer desire, but my body knew just what to do, my hips bucking every few strokes. His fingers fanned out and tried to control the bucking, but all it did was remind me how far from my restraint I’d fallen. Holy hell, it was… wild, and exhilarating.

“Gavin, I’m going to—” I warned.

But it was too late. My orgasm simply exploded out of me, not just from my cock, but out of every cell in my entire body, and I yelled and gripped his hair at the roots to anchor myself. After an eternity, it faded, leaving me gasping like a fish out of water.

I opened my eyes and saw him between my sprawled out legs, and his face was red, one hand over his throat, the other clutching his own thigh.

Every ounce of desire and wildness was sucked into a vortex of guilt that I’d so much as loosened the reins of my own control. “Are you all right?” I asked a bit desperately.

“What?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The ruined quality of his voice had me running my hands through my short hair. I was a thorough and conscientious man. I was not an animal who had needed to fuck my cock as far down his throat as it could go while I held him with my hands in his hair. I’d never been so rough before and didn’t know how to react now that my orgasm had drained all of the urgency and unprecedented wildness out of me. So I just asked again, “Are you okay?”

He sat up, his feet tucked under his ass, and crossed his arms as he surveyed me and the rumpled bed. “Eliott,” he huffed, “are you apologizing for your orgasm right now?”

I felt myself flush and felt like an even bigger fool. “No, I’m not apologizing for the orgasm,” I finally replied honestly. “That was a lot less… controlled than I usually am.”

“Eliott.” He laughed almost helplessly, crawling up my body to kiss my bottom lip, which was hanging open in astonishment at his reaction. “I initiated that blow job, and I don’t know about the other men who’ve given you blow jobs, but me? I enjoy them, and I work hard to give my partners a fucking awesome, body-shaking orgasm.”

Now I flushed again, hotter than a minute earlier. I envied his easy self-confidence and the way he’d restored my mood with only a few cheeky sentences, but I had to make sure he really was okay. “But you were… I mean, you were holding your throat like you…”

“Never had an explicit chat about how it’s not nothing to deep throat a hung guy?” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned, then stroked his neck again. “If I do it right, it makes my throat sore. Way less sore than my balls were after we screwed around in the diner bathroom, by the way. And I definitely did it right. You practically had a seizure under me.”

“Oh,” I sort of wheezed, shockingly lustful all over again from his smug matter-of-factness about the power of my orgasm.

He touched my cheek, which was stubbly since my morning shave had been so long ago, and it was the sweetest, gentlest touch he had used yet. It seemed like an inappropriate time to show me his sweet, gentle side, but I leaned into it without a single thought, when I always overthought everything. The way he went exactly where and when he pleased, but was also so generous with his wits and touch, unwound something in me, eased me.

Wanting to give something back, but not knowing how to explain what I was feeling, I trailed my fingertips along the knobs of his ankles, then skimmed up his shins. I was amused by the pucker of goosebumps that rose up. From where his hard little nipples peeked out from the heavy curtain of his hair up to his face was flushed. His stomach quivered, but he held his bones still, as if he were proving that my delicate touches weren’t going to make him orgasm so long and thoroughly that he practically seized too.

My thumbs dipped into the creases where his knees were folded outside my hips, then circled one kneecap while my other hand picked up one of his hands, bringing it to my mouth. My tongue dabbed the meat at the base of his thumb and between his fingers, then the very tip followed the blue veins from his wrist to the bend of his elbow. I sucked there, then braced myself, raised high enough to run my nose up his bicep. I ran feather-light kisses around the ball of his shoulder, using my chin to brush his hair aside and skim my stubble down the little curl of his pec.

There was a faint whistle to every breath that sawed in and out of him now.

His sinuous torso snaked forward, the shoulder still damp from my kisses twitching back to articulate his ribs as he sucked in a hard breath and offered up his chest.

“That’s it,” I breathed, then dragged my tongue in a rough pass over his nipple. I circled it and drew hard, the sudden change making him cry out and churn his hips over my lower abs. I sat up enough to circle his belly button and the tight, tiny panels of muscles around it. I brushed along the very top of his trimmed curls and felt his hips arch into the touch.

Gently, I drew my hand up his ribs to spread over his back and press him more deeply into my mouth, then grabbed his ass. His nails sank into my scalp and the arch of his spine exaggerated, pushing into my hand so eagerly that my fingertips skimmed his hole.

Desperation slowly refilled, so that I had to fight to concentrate on keeping this teasing pace. I was absolutely sure, based on every minute reaction of his body, that no one had taken their time with him before and he didn’t know what to do. I let go of his left nipple with a gasp and then bit the swell of his right pec before taking it into my mouth too.

“Eliott,” Gavin wailed, as he tried to sneak his hole onto my fingers, “damn you.”

Finally I couldn’t take it either, surging up to plunge my tongue between his lips, his tongue fucking against mine. I spread him wide open over my legs and slid my fingers around his hole, then pressed just inside, the tease making him yell out.

With my other hand, I reached behind me for the lube under my guest pillow. I had a moment of feeling awkward about it, because it showed just how long it had been since I’d had anyone else in my bed. But he didn’t even notice, eyes screwed shut tight.

But he heard the lube cap pop open, then shuddered when I gave him my fingers, delicately stretching him until he was bouncing greedily, taking control so that I rubbed the spot that made him jerk helplessly. When he clutched my jaw and kissed me so frantically that I tasted blood, I finally gave in to his silent demands. I thrusted my fingers hard and deep, deliberately keeping constant contact with his prostate.

His moans piled up and spilled out, lost to his pleasure, making my ears ring.

As his fingers twined through my hair, I ravaged his neck, wondering how I’d gone my whole life without using gentleness as a prelude to this unbridled drive to give my partner’s body exactly what it wanted. “God, Gavin,” I groaned as I licked the sweat off his neck.

“Don’t you dare stop,” he gasped.

“Not until you beg me to,” some insane barbarian inside me growled at him.

And that was it: he let loose a scream as he spurted untouched, painting my rigid cock and thighs. He rode my fingers for another solid minute until everything was wrung out of him. He collapsed, not forwards into my chest, but backwards with marvelous flexibility.

Everything was on display for me, and I carefully unfolded him. I cupped one hand over his still-hard cock, smug and awed when he thrust weakly in one last little aftershock.

“That,” he gasped breathlessly, “is why I wanted my gear back.”

Dragging my legs out from under his spent body, I fell onto my back next to him. I groaned when I wrapped a hand around myself and stroked. The remnants of lube on my fingers eased the drag as I fucked my own fist, head twisted so that I could look at him.

Gavin’s eyes opened wide, intense as he reached out to stroke my chest and then moved down to squeeze my balls. “Are you going to come again?” He bit the cords on my neck that were popped up from the strain in my body as I worked myself over, nearly delirious with satisfaction at what I’d gotten out of him. “Who’s the dangerous one now, huh, Eliott Navarre?” he whispered.

With a roar, I emptied into my own hand for the second time with him.

Only this time, it was nothing but a burst of dazed pleasure, unhurried and potent, and when the buzzing cleared from my head, there was no frozen moment of guilt or confusion. There was only the bone-deep exhaustion of coming really hard twice in one day, and a suspicion that I’d miss this wild, challenging man after he inevitably left again.

I slung an arm around him and pulled us both up to the pillows. I got hold of my blanket and tucked it around us both, and then I passed out without saying a thing.