Page 56 of Except You

“How about you jerk off while I do? I’ll sit right here,” I say, pointing behind me to the ottoman. “And let’s see how you feel about that.”

His eyes flick to mine, and he nods.

I slide off his lap and undress slowly, not wanting to scare him away, while at the same time, wanting to make sure he feels comfortable enough to tell me if he doesn’t want to keep going.

Maybe he’ll want to stop and that’s okay.

I’m safe. I’m a safe space.

“Do you think I’m doing this just so I can understand my brother?” he asks when I start to tug my jeans down. His hand is on his zipper, and god, just pull it down, Max. You’re killing me.

“No, Max. I think part of you wants to understand him, but I think you’re curious about the possibilities of your own desires. And that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with exploring things.”

He nods and then lifts his hips, exposing his boxers, the bulge in the front so obvious. The nerves he’s clearly showing aren’t deterring his hard-on in the least. No, his dick is fully on board.

“Do you have lube?” I ask, and I watch as he spits into his hand and reaches beneath the waistband of his boxers, gripping his dick.

“Jesus,” I murmur as I watch him jack himself.

“I have lube in my room,” he says, his cheeks flushed. “If you need it.”

“No, Max. I’m a man. I can use spit.”

He grins at me and then moans, a delicious sound slipping from his mouth. Maybe using my own saliva makes it less gay.

Though I’m far from it. I’m the gayest gay.

But the way he’s ogling me is making my entire body shake with desire. He looks like he wants me on top of him. He looks like he wants to slot our dicks together and frot.

“Holy hell,” I gasp as I lean back on my hand and arch my hips up into my fist.

“Yeah, like that,” Max grunts. “Just like that.”

I don’t know what he means, and he doesn’t take the time to clarify. He just continues to eyeball me while jerking himself in his underwear. His eyes roam over my flexing abdomen to my hard nipples to my lips and eyes.

I love that he can’t take his gaze off of me.

And I can’t take mine off him either.

He’s gorgeous. I mean, I’d love to have him a little more naked. But don’t we all?

“Take it off. The shirt. Take it off,” I say, my mouth unfiltered.

Max hesitates only one stroke and then reaches behind him and tugs it off, revealing his delicious chest to me. God, this man is a work of art. I want to lick every inch of him.

I want to watch my cum splatter across his pecs and down into his belly button.

I want to slide my body against the mess I made on him.

“Yes,” I say, growing tired of the waistband hindering me. I tug it down, the fabric stretched across my straining thighs. My dick is now exposed, and Max’s eyes fall to it. To the swollen, leaking head. To the way the foreskin stretches and moves with each jerk of my fist.

“You’re uncut.”

“Yeah. You?”

He glances down at where his fist is and then in one swift movement, his boxers mimic mine. The elastic is stretched across his thighs, his cut dick straining up against his abdomen. Fuck, he’s hung.

A big damn dick.