“No. I just have to meet this guy and get to know him. I’ve got to admit, he’s pretty damned handsome.”
That got half a smile. “I said you looked like Jake.” Jimothy giggled. “But better.”
“Better, huh?” Rick’s turn to tickle. He jammed both clawed hands into Jimothy’s sides, and the guy went nuts. “No, wait, no tickles. I can’t take tickles. No, no!”
“Ah, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh? I’ve got you without your scissors and found your weakness. You’re in my power.” He flipped Jimothy so he was lying flat on the floor where bits of hair still clustered, and Rick leaned over him, grabbing for his sides. Jimothy tried to wrap his arms over the sensitive areas, but Rick was too strong for him and managed to get his fingers under Jimothy’s sweater and onto the skin over his ribs. Jimothy rolled from side to side, yelling and laughing, but suddenly Rick’s brain registered touch more than torture and without his permission, the tickling hand caressed the silky, silky surface it was lying on. And wouldn’t stop.
Jimothy’s howls of laughter turned to giggles and then—whimpers.
Stop it. Stop it. Rick chanted it in his mind, but his body wasn’t interested. His fingers searched and explored. That skin. Holy shit. Could any male human be so much like satin? And yet, all that expanse of yumminess was stretched over muscles and sinew that might be slim and graceful but was all man. Intoxicating. Addictive.
Jimothy’s eyes were closed tightly, and his body moved ever so slightly under Rick’s investigating hands with funny little mewling sounds coming from his throat.
Rick kind of knew his breath was too fast to be normal, and his eyes closed to better allow him to focus on the feeling tingling from his fingertips straight down to a straining, throbbing cock. Prominent ribs, flat belly, slight swell of chest, ooh, hard little nipples and—
Suddenly, the world spun like a flipped pancake, and Rick was flat on his back with a predatory, wide—no make that wild-eyed Jimothy staring down at him as if he might bite Rick’s neck. “What—the—fuck?”
Rick wanted to reply with some logical explanation. None came to mind. On top of that, while he could have swatted Jimothy like a fly, he had no inclination to do that. In fact, being held down and glared at totally turned him on.
Jimothy narrowed his eyes. “Why, Mr. Ronconi, are you petting me like a mink?”
“B-because you feel like one?”
“Do I need to point out to you that most men will not feel-up other men if said man is—straight!”
Rick swallowed. “I’m, uh, not exactly…”
“Duh!” His nostrils flared, and he ripped the sweater up Rick’s chest revealing a geography of chest hair and below his happy trail was the freaking alps. It was a wonder the denim didn’t rip.
Jimothy stared at the evident proof of Rick’s not-straightness like he might put the thing on trial. Your honor, this freak pretends to be a macho dude when all along, he’s hiding this in his jeans in lust over a flaming femme. Your honor, the prosecution rests.
His focus never leaving the damning erection, Jimothy slid down Rick’s zipper. Rick couldn’t move a muscle as Jimothy unfastened Rick’s waistband and then reached in the gap and yanked down his boxer briefs. Like somebody opened the cage door, his erection lay flat against Rick’s belly.
Jimothy raised his well-manicured eyebrows. “My, my, I believe that’s for me.” His smoldering blue glance flicked up and met Rick’s.
Rick croaked, “It sure as fuck is.”
In one smooth, flexible move, Jimothy leaned forward and swallowed more of Rick’s big cock than any man or woman ever had. The head of Rick’s penis hit the back of Jimothy’s throat and just kept going.
“Holy shit!” Rick’s hips came off the floor and somehow Jimothy took the thrust in and then swallowed, and swallowed, the action of his neck muscles producing so much stimulation, Rick should have come on the spot, but no fuckling way he was giving this up. He pushed upward at a more reasonable pace as Jimothy hoovered his dick in and out of his throat in some magical movement Rick couldn’t imagine. Little moans and whimpers came from his mouth, and he didn’t even care. For too many fucking years, his dream of a toppy femme had only been realized in an occasional porn flick. This was real-life, baby, and Rick had died and gone to Jimothy heaven.
Jimothy.
Hell, what was he getting out of this except too much of a mouthful? “Share. My turn.”
Jimothy shook his head but never stopped sucking.
Rick didn’t have the bandwidth to argue. His last brain cell dissolved, and full awareness settled in his groin where pleasure exploded in his dick and traveled out to every nerve in his body. He’d never dreamed anything could be so good, so amazing, and his body bucked and shivered as he got closer and closer to the edge. “Oh God, Jimothy, oh God, oh, oh.”
Jimothy did some wild and amazing thing with his tongue around the head of Rick’s cock, then doubled the suction, and that was it. Bye-bye, Charlie. “Oh shit!” Rick’s scream ricocheted off the walls and was probably heard on the streets of Laguna, but he didn’t care. Shot after shot of ecstasy bolted through him as Jimothy sucked him down, and all the years of denial cracked and flaked around him.
Nothing would ever be the same.
It took a full five minutes, but finally he stopped shivering in the aftershocks and lay still.
Too still. The quiet felt heavy.
Gradually he opened his eyes. Jimothy was sitting with his head on his knees gazing at him.
Rick smiled, but heat flushed his cheeks.
Jimothy spoke quietly, but it kind of echoed. “How come you never told me you’re gay?”
“Well, I’m not exactly—” Rick faltered.
“Not exactly what? Out? Gay? Are you bi? What aren’t you exactly?”
Rick stared at that pretty, pretty face that had just blown away Rick’s already uncertain world. “I-I don’t know. Does it all have to have a label?”
Jimothy frowned. “Um, no. I suppose not. I’ve got friends who fuck men, women, nonbinary. Hell, there are ducks who aren’t safe from them. But they know it, and for the most part, proudly proclaim it. I knew I was gay when I was so young, I still thought that word referred to a choice of crayons. I’ve got a feeling you’re kind of past the age of not exactly.”
Chapter Ten
Rick slowly sat up and closed his jeans. He couldn’t think of anything to say.
Jimothy stood, brushed himself off, and extended his hand to Rick. “Come on. Go use the bathroom while I clean up.”
Rick took Jimothy’s hand but mostly pushed himself up. Hell, one pull and Jimothy would be back on the floor. Not that Rick wouldn’t like that. He’d really like a do-over. Maybe when Jimothy asked why he’d never said he was gay, Rick should have answered, “I never thought to tell you.” Shit, no. That’d be worse. It would make it sound like he didn’t care enough to tell Jimothy that he was interested in him.
Am I interested in him?
Suddenly, he realized he was standing in the middle of the floor, staring into space, and saying nothing. Somewhere in there, Jimothy had gotten a broom and was leaning on it, waiting for Rick to get out of his way.