“We’ve both got roommates. This is as alone as we’re going to get. Plus, I really want to. You aren’t circumcised, are you?”
He’d been able to feel the difference—the looseness of the skin around the head of Spencer’s cock. His limited exposure to foreskins meant he found them hot as hell. It probably also meant his technique could use some work, but this was a skill he was willing to train.
“Can I?” He traced a finger under the waistband of Spencer’s shorts. Their frantic gyrations had pushed them down low enough that the very tip of Spencer’s cock poked out in a tempting display. “Please?”
“Just make it quick.” Spencer thrust his hips up urgently against his teasing fingers. “I don’t want to find out what the punishment is for indecent exposure in Japan.”
“I won’t expose a thing. This beauty’s going to be fully buried, I promise you.” He stopped tracing the outline of Spencer’s cock and curled himself down to bring himself face to face with it. It would be nice to have the time and privacy to strip Spencer completely naked and edge him until he screamed, but he could do quick and discreet.
He lowered the front of Spencer’s shorts just enough to get his mouth over the tip of his cock, feeling for the edges of Spencer’s foreskin with his tongue. Fuck, he wished he had one of these, but he was sure glad Spencer did because his attention to it was making Spencer wild. Spencer’s hands were fisted at his sides, jerking as Flynn worked him over. Flynn guided one into his hair, and Spencer matched it with the other, stroking through his curls mostly softly, tugging a bit, then stroking again, like the world’s sexiest hair brushing.
Sweet. He caught Spencer’s foreskin between his lips and gave a tug back. Spencer moaned his approval, low like a whisper, but Flynn couldn’t hear anything except him. Someone could legitimately walk right up next to them, gear jangling, footsteps crunching, and he wouldn’t even notice. He slid his mouth farther down Spencer’s shaft, eliciting a gurgled ah that encouraged him to slide down even farther until he went too far and choked himself.
“Always showing off,” Spencer mumbled. “Don’t kill yourself on it.”
“Some things are worth killing myself for,” he mumbled back, but he kept it a little shallower on the next pass, bobbing up and down and using his hands as best he could without exposing too much of Spencer’s skin, hunching over him in jealous protection. This was all his.
Spencer’s back went stiff, his hips churning almost faster than Flynn could keep up with. He’d given his share of blowjobs before, but he’d never cared so much about getting one right. Yeah, babe, his mind said. Give it to me. Give it all to me, and Spencer did, jackknifing up one last time to freeze with his hips off the ground. Hot wetness coated Flynn’s throat and he groaned around it, his eyes closed with the thrill of making Spencer come. This was his Olympics. Any sexual experiences he’d had before today were only practice for this.
Spencer’s hips settled back on the tarp, and with a last lick, Flynn reluctantly let him go, tugging his shorts up to cover him decently. Spencer’s expression was gratifyingly glazed, his eyes blinking sleepily and his hair as messy as three inches of straight brown could get.
“Tell me I did good.” Flynn lay down next to him and stretched himself out to bump up against Spencer’s side.
“Your ego knows no bounds.” Spencer teased, but he snaked an arm under him and curled it around his shoulders. “You did good. I’ll do you in a minute.”
“That would be really nice. Shit.” Flynn scrambled up into a sitting position. That tittering in the background wasn’t a bird. It was a woman’s voice speaking Japanese, and it was coming closer.
“Hm?”
“Someone’s coming, sleepyhead. Try to look less like you just got your brains sucked out of your dick.”
That had Spencer moving. He was on his feet in an instant, looking around wildly. “Where? What did they see?”
“That way.” He pointed farther down the cliff line, back toward the trail. “And nothing. Relax.”
Spencer shook his head. “You’re trouble, Loren.”
“You’re adorable, Woolery.”
Spencer plonked back down on the tarp, but upright this time, facing him instead of cuddling him. “You really meant that earlier? About maybe having a crush on me for a while?”
“No maybe about it.” He scrunched forward until their knees touched. “I’d kinda given up on having a chance with you though.”
“I had no idea you were gay.”
“I don’t feel like that was the problem.” He would’ve willingly come out to Spencer at any point, but by the time he’d felt worthy of pursuing him, Spencer had already started backing away.
“All right, I was mad.”
“Why though? What did I do?”
Spencer thought about his answer way too long, making Flynn’s skin itch. He wished those women weren’t down the cliff, wished they were having this conversation naked. Because you couldn’t hide naked. Spencer would have to tell him the truth then.
Spencer sucked in his breath like he was about to say something really difficult, then blew it out again in a long sigh as his shoulders slumped forward. “I’m jealous.”
“Of me?”
“Of your talent. And mad about the way you don’t make the most of it. I’ve told you that.”
“Sure, but, you were just kidding, right? I mean, I know you train hard and you’re all vegan this and stretching that, but you don’t really care how I train, do you?”
“Like I said: jealous. I wish it was that easy for me. And it seems like if it’s that easy for you, then you should be working harder.”
“I work pretty hard. Not the way you do, I admit, but in my own way. I never told you how I wrecked my ankle.”
“On The Ankle Eater.” Spencer rolled his eyes as if that only proved his point.
“Yeah, but not like you think. Sure, there’s the move that gave the boulder its name, where you have to throw your right foot into a pocket waist-high and crank up on it. But Spencer, which of my ankles is busted?”
Spencer looked at his crossed legs as if he needed the visual reminder. “Your left.”
“Because I didn’t hurt it doing that move. Remember how I was saying I’ll work a boulder problem until I’m about to send it, then invite a camera crew along? Well, I’d figured out that ankle-eating move, so I thought I was ready. But it’s a really big boulder, right? Almost forty feet. So the photogs have their shots lined up, and I crank through the ankle-eater move, no problem, cruise up to the lip of the boulder, then blow the top-out sequence.”
“You fell?”
“Not immediately. I had a choice. Drop off—a long drop, but I could control it—or try to power through. I was tired, I had a plane to catch the next day, and I’d dragged some folks out into the woods who were expecting me to do what I said I’d do.”
“So you tried to finish it.”
“Yep. Didn’t work. I didn’t have enough strength left to fix the mistake I’d made. I landed badly and twisted the ankle.”
“But the mags said you sent that problem,” Spencer said with a frown. “It’s not an ascent unless you top out.”