JUSTIN’S POV

“Don’t look at me,” he mumbles, his back to me, a thin stream of cigarette smoke curling up over his head.

“I’m not,” I say and look away quickly.

“Liar.”

”Well, I’m not *now*,” I roll over onto my stomach, my dick pressing into the sheets. Christ, I’m so horny I think I’m gonna die. But I don’t want him to know that. I don’t want him to think that I need something he can’t give me.

I press my face into the pillows and try not to hump the sheets. F-u-u-u-ck.

“You should just go out,” he says, and I don’t know if he’s looking at me or not. Just know that I feel a little tired and a lot needy and I wish this wasn’t happening to us. I wish I hadn’t said anything when he asked me not to. I wish he could fuck me. I wish he’d let me suck his dick.

I wish the lube he squirted on my hole didn’t feel so slippery and cool and well, just *good*, squished up between my ass cheeks. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Should really go wipe it off. Should just, I don’t know, go take a shower and jack off quietly.

But I don’t. I lie here face down on the bed and listen to his lips pull on the thin paper of the cigarette, his intake and exhale, his sigh and the crush of the butt as he stubs it out in the ashtray.

The bed lifts up as he climbs off it, the light in the bathroom flicks on, I hear him piss, then he’s back. I can hear him breathing so I know he’s there, but I can’t move to look at him. I’m too tired, too horny, feel… I don’t, just bad. I know it’s not me, it’s not my fault. I know he’ll get better, he’ll get past this – we’ll get past this. But it doesn’t feel right and he’s hurting and pissed off and I just feel like anything I say isn’t the right thing.

He slowly rolls into bed, lying beside me, resting his head on the pillow, his big hazel eyes just flicking back and forth across my face. I can’t help thinking about how I felt when I couldn’t be with him, after the bashing. How much it hurt me that I couldn’t be with him. How much I hated what happened to me. It all seemed so fucking unfair and not right, and I hated that I couldn’t give him what he needed.

I realize now that was a foolish thing to think, because I don’t feel like that at all. All I feel like is that I wish I could do something. Anything.

But I look in his eyes and he makes me feel okay. There’s nothing he expects, nothing I can do, except keep my fucking mouth shut when he asks me to.

He reaches out his hand and puts it on the back of my neck, his fingers a little clammy and cool, brushing across my skin. He shifts a little closer and keeps petting me, running his hands over the shorter hairs on the back of my neck, then lets his fingers stray further down my spine. Little feathery touches, so light and almost like caresses, straying across the tiny hairs on my skin. It gives me goose bumps and tickles at the same time and I break into a grin.

He smiles back a little, half his face pressed into the pillow, scrunching up his eye and giving him this crinkle along the side of his face.

Fingers reach lower, trailing down, then up, then further down, then up, then cresting the curve of my ass, dragging his nails smoothly up the ridge. He pauses, then slides his hand back up my spine, then reverses again to drift towards my ass… holds his palm there, getting warmer against my skin, and my heart starts to shudder in my chest. I lick my lips quickly, and I fight the urge to buck up into him, to push my ass up into his hand, to moan and maybe beg the tiniest bit. But I keep trying not to seem too desperate for this, knowing damn well that he can tell I am. It’s been too long since he’s been inside me.

His finger slips down between my cheeks and just touches my hole, all warm and sticky with lube, and my eyes open wide at the sensation. It’s hardly anything, just a touch, just his finger, but Christ, I’ve been aching for it, dying for it, wanting it, needing it. Light strokes across my asshole, back and forth, back and forth, then he stops, pressing against me, and I push down inside, opening up wide, gripping the sheets in my fingers and just staring at him, watching him as he watches me, studies me, my every reaction, every move…

And then he’s inside me. Just his middle finger, not his dick or a dildo or a buttplug. Just his finger, which isn’t really that big, but feels so good, so good… and then there’s two fingers and I grind my hips against the sheets, getting some friction on my dick to match the warm pressure inside my ass.

I pull my hand from under the pillow and grab his other wrist, lying between us, putting my thumb on his pulse and measuring it, counting it. Just wanting to feel him, his body, the soft part of his skin against mine.

He rocks his fingers into me slowly, easing up, then sliding back inside. I can’t help but gasp with every push in, putting pressure on his wrist with my thumb every time he presses on me inside. His thumb strokes my crack and his pinky rubs against my balls and it’s just this easy rhythm, his fingers slipping in and out of me, holding inside for a moment, then sliding back out again.

And he watches me. And I watch him back, letting my eyelids flutter shut with every push in, then opening them back up again to see his face, his eyes, his lush lips and flushed cheeks and hair sticking up over his ears and I squeeze his wrist between my fingers and let my eyes slip closed and get lost with him inside me.

I can feel his heart thumping on my fingertips, buried deep inside him. Just this thump-thump-thump. Constant and static and there. Just like him. Just like he’s always there, always ready for anything, always wanting anything, everything, me. No matter what state I'm in. No matter what I can offer him. Or can't.

Don’t think about. Don’t think about it.

It’s okay if I don’t concentrate. It just washes over me in waves, crashing in, then retreating. I feel okay, then I don’t. I feel horny, then I don’t. I feel hard, then I don’t.

So I don’t think about it.

Slide my fingers out of him again, his ass taut around my knuckles, trying to hold me in. Then plunge back inside and lean forward at the same time, capturing his mouth with mine, kissing him hard and wet, letting my tongue slide across his lips and teeth. He pushes back with his mouth, his grip on my wrist suddenly hard, nails digging into me, pulling me closer to him. I bury my fingers inside him, wriggling them and making him yelp into my mouth in surprise.

He tears his mouth from mine, panting for air, looking at me wide-eyed, and I do it again, scissoring my fingers open and closed and stretching him wide inside. His mouth drops open and he makes that little grunt/gasp that I love, an “OH!” punctuated with a sharp breath.

I grin, laughing a little through my nose. I love seeing him like this, all fucked up with my fingers inside him. Christ, I think about the couple times I’ve fisted him, my hand completely inside him, totally engulfed and captured by his body and the way he’d let out these deep shuddering sighs, begging me for more, urging more inside, seeming as though he could never get enough.

Oh, fuck, that did it, remembering that last time I had my entire hand up his ass. A wave comes crashing in on me, drowning me with a warm rush of intensity, with a flush of blood to my dick and I’m sure I could now, sure I could try…

And then… it recedes. A flash of a scalpel, an image breaking into my head from nowhere, concocted from a thousand shitty doctor shows I never even watched. I don’t know why I’d imagine these things. It’s not like I saw it. Not like I was awake, not like I even fucking know what my ball would look like…

He sighs and his breath hits my face. “Brian?” he asks, a question on his face, in his eyes, but I lean forward again, kissing away the look and moving my body right up against his, twisting my wrist from his grip, and pushing against his shoulder to turn him on his side, facing me.

My fingers slip out of his ass as he rolls over, and I slither down the bed, planting kisses on his chest, licking at his nipple, moving further and further down till I feel his pubes against my chin, his hard cock touching me on the throat.

Kiss his nest of hair, mouthing it and breathing him in, filling my nose with the warm salty smell of his cock, licking my lips and dragging them across his groin, his pubes, his dick.

Slide my hand between his thighs and slowly push my fingers back inside his tight hole, wrapping my lips around his cock at the same time, pulling him into my mouth. He lifts his leg up and lets it lie on my side, pushing his heel lightly into my back.

“Brian,” he says my name again, but this is the way I like to hear it, with that rough edge to his voice, breathless and needy and horny. Said with satisfaction, with pleasure, with want and desire and no question, no fucking question at all.

I take him into my throat, all of him, burying my nose in his pubes again, swallowing around his cock and his whole body shudders. Feel it on my tongue from his dick, on my forehead from his taut stomach brushing against me, on my fingers stuck up his ass. Deep shudder and then he starts this slow rock, back and forth, arching back to fuck himself on my hand, curving forward to press his cock into my mouth. I intensify it, sucking him, licking him, milking him with my lips and tongue one way, then pressing against his prostate and scissoring my fingers open wide on the other.

He starts to breathe heavier, inhaling with a gasp and exhaling with a sigh, and I feel him get close, feel that quiver and a light snap of his hips, feel him tighten on my fingers, so I ease back, pulling out, letting him slip from my throat. I want him to last. I want to make this last just a little longer.

He wraps his fingers around my wrist again, pulling my hand out from under my head, and drags it up to his mouth. Soft lips kiss my fingers, then he slides my index finger onto his tongue, warm and wet and fucking sexy and Christ this is torture almost, bare inside him, inside his ass, inside his mouth and yet the one part of me that needs to, has to, must—

His other hand covers mine on his ass and he pushes my fingers back inside him, one of his leading the way, guiding me back and he’s fucking himself on our fingers twisted up together inside him, sucking my thumb into his mouth like it was my cock and I taste a flood of his pre-cum and slide him back down my throat, suddenly wanting to get him off now, feeling like he can get off for both of us, sucking him tasting him smelling him needing him Christ and fuck and…

At the last second before he shoots, I pull him out of my throat and onto my tongue and then there’s a gush of warmth into my mouth, my fingers squeezed hard inside his ass, my thumb bitten softly between his lips and I feel the vibration of his moans through my skin, my bones, into my body.

Hold his cum in my mouth, slick and salty and I savour it, the taste and smell and feel of sex. Let it trickle slowly down my throat, dripping into me, like it was my own, like it’ll somehow feed me, like this is the only thing I can have inside me.

Pull my lips from his cock, dragging my mouth across him tightly, pulling every last drip of his spunk into my mouth. Let my fingers slip from his ass, my thumb fall from between his lips.

“Jesus,” he moans, a laugh and a hiccup at the end. “Fuck.”

He falls onto his back, inhaling deeply and letting out big breaths and little swears. I roll onto my stomach and creep closer to him. Put my head on his stomach. Smell him. His sex. Just sex. That smell of it. I love it. I’ve been craving it.

And I feel kind of anxious and wound up inside, feel like I haven’t gotten off in weeks, which is decidedly sad and true, but then I feel like I’ve just cum over and over and over with no relief. Got that hard too much feeling and I can’t get it to go away.

But I don’t think about that. And put my hand on his thigh, palm down, pressed against his skin. Stare at his cock and his mess of blond pubes and breathe in and out and breathe in that sex smell and let that be enough.

He strokes my hair, then pushes his fingers in hard, scratching lightly at my scalp, massaging my head in the way he knows I love and will get me to fall asleep practically every time.

And I let that be enough too.