Page 79 of Sizzle

“Never stopped you before.”

“That was different.” He’s still moving, swaying like he’s about to strike, but he won’t. Not now that I’m not engaging him.

“How?” I wait until he looks up at me. “How is it different, Elliot?”

“You know how,” he says. He’s so quiet I have to strain to hear him. He breaks eye contact and I use that split second to move in, snaking an arm under his and wrapping my hand behind his head in a textbook headlock.

Elliot had been a competitive wrestler in high school. He taught me a few things early on, though we didn’t mix it up like this often. It was too much for me, getting this close to him, especially back then.

For some reason, getting too close doesn’t scare me like it used to.

He yanks but not enough to break my grip. I tighten my hold, bringing our bodies together hard, knowing there’s no way he can ignore my erection, pressed up against his back like I am. I’m not sure what I’m doing here with him, like this.

But he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t yell or start ribbing me or laugh.

Elliot goes completely still. For a moment, he stops breathing altogether.

He twists out of my grip, spinning away to face me. I can’t read his face anymore. Elliot shoves me back, hard. The cold cement wall is a relief to my overheated skin. Elliot shoves at me again.

I see the glint of tears in his eyes for only a second before his mouth touches mine. My brain shuts down completely.

Elliot’s kissing me.

The shock of it hits me harder than any punch and for a long moment all I can do is stand there, hands at my sides, letting him do it. When my brain finally catches up, I kiss him back. I give him everything I’ve got, everything I’ve thought about, fantasized about, every wet dream I ever had about him the last ten years. I pour every bit of it into that kiss.

If this is the only one I ever get, I’m going to make it fucking count.

Elliot’s gasping as he pulls away, burying his face against my neck, licking and nipping with his teeth. I can’t get my hands to move fast enough, needing to touch every inch of all that goddamn muscle. I never had a thing for athletes or jocks but Jesus fucking Christ, his body sets me off.

Elliot sucks hard at my neck, one hand sliding up my back, the other working its way down my stomach. When he stops to tug at the button on my trousers, I swear my vision goes gray.

I should stop this, I should talk to him, check in to make sure this is what he wants. I know for damn sure he’s never done this with anybody else. But then his hand slips under my fly and his thick fingers close around my cock and I damn near shoot off at the first touch.

“Commando,” he mutters. “Figures.”

I choke on the laugh, pulling at his jeans, nearly popping the button of his fly off in my fervor to get my hands on him.

Elliot’s staring down at me, not moving his hand, just looking at my dick. I’ve never felt the need to brag about my cock—after a certain point, there’s just no need. But the way Elliot’s looking down at me now makes me want to shout it out to the entire world.

I finally get his jeans open, yanking them down over his hips and that obscenely rounded ass and close my fist on his cock.

Elliot’s eyes slam shut and he groans, bucking his hips up against my grip.

I stroke him hard and fast, not wanting to rush this but desperate to see him lose the last of his control. He’s breathing harder now than he was during his workout. Every thrust of his hips brings his cock in contact with mine. Elliot opens his eyes and looks down between our bodies.

I keep my gaze on his face, sliding a hand to cup his neck and pulling him closer to me. Our bodies flush, pressing my back up against the wall, I grip both our cocks in one hand and stroke up.

Elliot starts to shake.

“Jesus Christ.”

Keeping one hand between us, I slide my other hand down to that incredible ass, pulling him even closer. I can feel the muscles flexing there as he works his hips up against mine.

“Jesus, Alex.”

I lick up the side of his neck, letting Elliot work himself against me, stroking our cocks as one. The friction is delicious, sweat and pre-cum easing the way just enough.

Elliot’s gripping my hips now, pulling me into him in a rhythm I remember seeing him use when he pumped this big cock into Joelle. I commit that rhythm to memory, knowing I’ll be using that information to stroke myself off for the rest of my life. I slide my thumb over the heads, spreading the pre-cum there, lingering over his tiny hole.