Page 63 of Two for Charging

Luca stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep from shouting. Or proposing. Both seemed equally likely.

Chris was careful as he unbuttoned Luca’s pants and unzipped his fly, but when he gripped Luca by the hips, his hands were firm. “Tell me if I do anything wrong,” he said, and then, oh God, his lips wrapped around the head of Luca’s cock.

Two summers ago in Italy, right after his twentieth birthday, Luca had a three-week fling with a man who believed he’d discovered the sole right way to give a blowjob. It involved a lot of tongue to start, teasing licks to the head and the frenulum, and ended in a masterful three seconds of deep-throating. At the time, Luca had been inclined to agree with Giovanni.

Now, with Chris bobbing his head up and down on Luca’s dick, Luca had zero brain cells left to think about technique. Who cared that Chris couldn’t get more than half into his mouth? Who cared that he went straight to sucking instead of licking first? It wasn’t as if Luca would last.

Chris sucked Luca off as slowly and steadily as he gave hand jobs. He didn’t change his tempo, moving up and down leisurely on Luca’s cock. It left Luca in a torturous build of arousal, his balls throbbing. His nipples twinged under the cheap fabric of his costume shirt. If they were in a bed, he would retaliate. He would get Chris under him; he would— But no, Chris didn’t want him to.

He just wanted to give Luca pleasure.

Luca was convinced he gave it so gradually on purpose, teasing Luca to the brink but not letting him go over.

But then Chris pulled off to ask, “Is this okay?”

Luca whined.

“Am I hurting you?”

“You will hurt me if you don’t keep going, Gesù Cristo and Maria, Chris, please,” Luca whispered as fervently as he could, hoping Chris would understand the urgency without anyone overhearing Luca beg.

“Oh.” Chris’s eyes went wide. They had turned the lights on in the guest room, so Luca could see every inch of his broad, handsome face, could see how his pupils dilated.

“Please,” Luca repeated. “You’re driving me crazy, I want you so much, it hurts. I need—”

“I’ve got you,” Chris said hoarsely, and then he wrapped his lips around Luca again and sucked at the head, hard.

Luca doubled over as he came, shooting out in pulses over Chris’s tongue. He bit his lips to keep from yelling. Bad coaching, he realized. He should have warned Chris, shouldn’t have come in his mouth the first time. Chris didn’t seem to mind. He swallowed, then pulled off and licked his lips. Despite playing over twenty minutes of hockey every other night, Luca’s knees collapsed out from under him, and he was only saved from crashing to the floor by Chris’s arms wrapping around him.

He couldn’t stop himself from pressing messy, grateful kisses to every inch of Chris’s skin he could reach, couldn’t stop himself from burrowing into Chris’s arms to be held as he came down.

“Shh, it’s all right,” Chris murmured. “Was it good for you?”

Luca laughed deliriously. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“So yes?”

“Yes.”

Chris rumbled a pleased sound.

More than anything, Luca wanted to reach down and return the favor, but he didn’t dare. Not when Chris had asked one thing of him—for him to respect Chris not always wanting it the way Luca did.

It seemed so unfair that Chris gave him so much, and Luca couldn’t offer anything in return. He’d started this whole adventure to thank Chris for allowing him to live in his apartment rent-free, and now Luca had again taken more than he gave.

“I didn’t take you out in Buffalo,” Luca realized, feeling even more like a cockroach stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe.

Chris leaned away to look at him, brow furrowed. “We spent less than twenty-four hours there.”

“And all we did in New York was eat shitty pizza.”

“It was great pizza!”

“You have no taste.”

A wide smile broke across Chris’s face. “There you are. I thought something was wrong; you were being too nice to me.”

Luca couldn’t keep looking at him. The guilt would make him physically ill. That, or the gin.