This story started out as a Wicked Wednesday post. The prompt was hand-holding, which happens to fit nicely with one of my favourite ways to give the Fella a handjob. But I didn’t get it finished before the deadline so decided to change my personal piece into a bit of erotica. I combined what I had with an idea I had for Kink of the Week, et voila.
A few weeks ago, my best friend Jace and I made a deal. See, we each have something we want but can no longer get it from the people who used to give it to us. So instead we’ve decided to swap favours. Do one another a solid. He’s going to scratch my back and I’m… you get the picture.
That’s why we’re wedged into the back seat of his little banger, Jace with unbuttoned jeans and me with my tits out. It’s not all that late in the day, but the country lane we’re parked on is lined with trees that overhang the road so it’s pretty dark inside the car. I can’t see his face to properly gauge how he’s feeling. And that means he can’t see mine either, so unless one of us breaks the ice we’ll be sat here hanging out probably indefinitely.
Jace finds his voice first. He coughs a bit to clear his throat, but before he can get a word out a car appears up ahead. Its headlights beam through the windscreen, shine in my windows as it crawls past us, but all I see through the film of steam that covers the glass is a red blur. The honk of a horn is clear enough, though. They know what’s what.
“If we’re gonna do this we’d better just…” Jace mutters.
I turn to face him but instead of meeting his eyes I end up looking at the top of his head. His face is already an inch from my chest. A bit abrupt of him, but okay. I’m good with getting mine first.
I’m half smiling, convinced that as soon as his lips touch my skin, I’m going to burst out laughing. I mean, how could I not? He’s not my partner or my fuck buddy. Hell, he’s not even the type I usually go for. Too preened, too pretty, and far too aware of himself. This is going to be as arousing as a kiss from my grandmother.
Jace presses his lips against my collar bone and I hold my breath in a bid to smother the giggle racing up my throat. His hair, loaded with fruity smelling product, tickles my chin. Have his lips always been this full and soft? They must have been, lips don’t get bigger over time, they thin. Mine have, anyway.
As those lips shift to my shoulder, the breath I’m holding demands to be set free, and Jase pauses, listening to it rattle from my lungs, feeling it shake me just a little. I didn’t expect that. I don’t think he did, either. But he carries on, nibbling his way along the curve, up the column of my neck.
Am I stunned? I must be, there’s no other reason for me to be staring into the shifting darkness of the car’s sunroof. Clinging to the shirt scrunched up in my hands. Gasping a little plea as Jace snakes his hand over my chest, up my neck and into my hair so he can tug my head to the side.
Please, please, please…
At first, there’s nothing but his breath. Hot air warming my ear, spreading to my nape and down my back. Slow breaths, deep and unsteady. He’s making me wait. Waiting until it sinks in that as funny as this had sounded, it’s no laughing matter.
This is Jace. It’s fucking Jace for crying out loud. I’ve known him for decades. We’re just friends, yet he has me licking my lips, squeezing my eyes shut, trying hard to not curl my hips towards him. I can’t believe how quickly I’ve gone from ‘oh okay’ to ‘please don’t stop’.
I guess that, before he can stop, he needs to actually start, but he doesn’t. He just breathes and breathes until my skin becomes damp with it. Then there’s the slightest hint of pressure. The brush of his lips barely touching my neck. Was that a moan? Did I moan when he licked me? Did my hips buck when he bit my earlobe?
“Oh God.” Yeah, I did. That was definitely me.
That must have been what Jace was waiting for because no sooner do I say it is he lunging at my throat with almost vampiric enthusiasm. Colours appear on the backs of my eyelids, I feel the slight crispiness of Jace’s hair as I press his face into my throat. I feel his teeth, his tongue, tingling, prickling, stinging, aching.
When he pulls away, I pull him back and kiss him. We both freeze. I can see the shock in his eyes even in the dark. Was it too much? Did I go too far? Will he stop now?
“Oh God,” I moan again, hands back in his hair, guiding him to my left nipple.
He licks it, flicks it, bites it until I’m squirming then slips just to the side and clamps down. Growling softly as he sucks. Bliss. This is bliss. I’m pressing the ache on my neck with my fingers, he’s pinching my already abused nipple as he sucks the other. Back to my collarbone, sucking, down to my belly, sucking, then my hip, my lips, the other side of my neck.
When he finally rears back, panting softly, I look down at my body. It’s disappointing that I can’t see much, but knowing is enough. Knowing that he’s just painted a constellation of angry bruises all over my body, that beneath my clothes they’ll turn purple, yellow, then grey before they fade satisfies me in a way not much else can.
I’m smiling for different reasons when Jace clasps my hand. He just sits there for a minute, holding it. Tracing the wrinkles of my knuckles, feeling out the old scar he gave me with a ruler back in school. The pause turns to hesitation and I realise that now it’s his turn to be nervous.
So I take the lead. Drawing our clasped hands through the hair beneath his belly button. Running my little finger through the thicker stuff until I find something hard and smooth. Jace shivers as I probe, looking for a vein to follow. There! Fuck, it’s so thick I imagine that I can feel his blood pulsing through it.
Wrinkled skin, a deep crest, then back down again until the side of my little finger nestles into wiry pubic hair once more. We sit still and quiet. I can hardly believe that Jace and I are holding hands, never mind that we’ve got his cock wedged between them. It’s warm against my palm, solid when I give it a squeeze.
And then I’m tightening my fingers around his, pulling them along his shaft. Stroking slowly, steadily, firmly. Jace lets out the most erotic sigh I’ve ever heard. He’s getting exactly what he wanted. His hand and mine tugging at his cock, thumbs clashing at the tip, each of us looking to claim those first few beads of precum. Victory is mine! I can feel it wet between my fingers.
Our strokes get faster, our grips tighter. How will it feel to have Jace come in my hand? I’m eager to feel the throb, hungry to feel his come hit my wrist, or my arm, or given our angle, my chest. I picture it splattering, sticky and hot, over the love bites he left beside my nipple and, without warning, I pull his hand to a stop.
He’s looking at me, probably thinking what the fuck, but all of a sudden, I want more than we initially agreed on. Shifting until my face is close enough to his I could lick it, I take a breath.
“Do you wanna fuck?”
Those were my words but I’m not the one who said them.
Jace reaches between my legs and my answer is delivered on the back of a moan.
“Oh, fuck yes I do. You’re not far off coming, though, so you’re taking. Get on your knees and let my cock at that ass.”
