Commitment Collection, page 6
part #1 of Commitment Series
“Come here.” He beckons me to stand, pulling me up until my body slides against his and we are standing chest-to-chest.
'Oh, God.' I think. His tribal tattoo stretches from his arm and across his trimmed chest, a tantalizing path which leads to nowhere, and yet everywhere I’d love to touch. Dark hair runs over it and my desire to hold out my fingers and press them against it is all consuming. I run my fingers over the pattern, tracing the line from left to right before diving low as I trail over his stomach, letting my hand wander further south.
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in, holding my length with his other.
“Is this OK?” he checks.
“It’s more than OK Kyle.”
He smiles, dipping his eyes. “I’ve just never done it before, so tell me if I do something wrong.”
“Oh, I will.” I grin, but my hooded look does nothing to disguise my passion and we kiss as we stand facing each other. My hand rubs up and down his rigid length. Our teeth clash as our movements become more frantic. Our mouths are locked in a furious embrace as we work hard for the other’s pleasure.
He sucks in air and then groans, “Oh, Elliott” into my mouth. His excitement thrills my body, stimulating every nerve. My toes curl and I let loose, just as he does, the evidence creaming over our chests and hands, a release of pent up need splattering over us in heavy bursts. We crash onto each other, still leaning against that door, having made it no further into my changing room.
And then we laugh. We laugh in elation that after all the false turns, we’re finally there. It was good. We both know it. And there’ll be more.
My lips ghost over his. “Come on. We’d better take a shower and get down to the pits before someone notices we’re missing.”
He grins. “I’ll go first. You’re the star of the show, you can follow me in your own time.”
“I’ll watch. If I get in with you, we’ll never get out,” I say.
“You will not watch, because we both know how that will work out,” he says as he passes through into my private shower room, leaving the door ajar.
Kyle
Time slows. I am being watched and Elliott wants a show.
I become acutely aware of how external factors affect the way my body moves as I step into Elliott's minuscule shower. The sound of my toes gripping the plastic tray is deafening. The spray of water, cold at first before turning warm and steamy is sensational on my skin while the thousands of piercing needles slicing into my chest is painful in my hyper sensitive state. I react strongly to it all. These sensations are far more noticeable now that Elliott is watching, and every move I make has an erotic undertone which screams out in the silence of the mundane.
I’m conscious of having to return to my unsuspecting work colleagues, so I lean back to avoid the jet streams from soaking my face and hair.
I have to get back, but I know there’s just enough time to put on a show.
The spray of water and rising steam are rapidly building on the shower door, blocking Elliott’s view. I sponge the glass, heart slamming against my ribcage, to allow him a sliver through which he can view me running my hands over my body, ensuring it’s sufficiently drenched before pouring Elliott’s body wash into my palm. I lather thick streaks of foaming wash over my skin and swirl my hand around my satisfied cock which begins to stiffen.
Elliott groans from behind the crack in the door, triggering my imagination to run wild. I mentally scroll through the images I’ve committed to my memory of his sensual mouth, coiling tongue, moist lips, and yes, his stiff length rubbing against mine. I must concentrate. I have to go back to the pits. And soon!
But it’s almost impossible. I feel his eyes boring into me, their heated gaze locked onto my every move, appreciating each small piece of my private self. Intimate moments only ever shared with a sexual partner, by their very nature now signifying a relationship status that has moved forward another notch.
I grab the shower head and run the steaming water over the suds. They run down my flesh and pool by my feet before sinking down the drain. I’m left totally bare, devoid of even the most meager layer of protection. I shut off the water and step out, grabbing a towel off the rail on the side. Its rattle echoes in the silence.
I don’t have time to wrap it round my waist and put on another show, so instead I am content with quickly drying off. The rough fibers of the towel brush my nerves alive and my skin puckers.
My display over, I step back into the changing area to find Elliott laid on the bed, resting on his elbows, legs lolling off the edge of the mattress, spread wide.
“Nice show.” His eyebrows dance and a careless smile spreads across his lips.
“Glad you enjoyed it.” I beam, warmth spreading to my cheeks.
“Shame it couldn’t last longer, but that leaves us something for later, right?”
Ah, so he’s checking I’m still interested in going further. “Is that a chink of insecurity in your armor by any chance?” I ask.
His smile expands into a full-blown grin, “Well, that was fun. You can make a boy greedy, you know!”
I slip my legs into my shorts. “Likewise, but this is too much of a massive change to my life for it to just be fun.” I need to check. Before we go any further, he must grasp that I’m in this, really in it. And he needs to be too. I can’t be just a play thing for him. I’m not this season’s entertainment.
He nods. “I understand, and anything we do will only ever be at your pace.”
With that, I pull my top over my head, kiss the corner of his mouth and I’m gone.
Elliott
I type the text, delete it, type it again, erase, type it again.
Ugh!
It’s just not right.
Why can’t I find the correct phrase?
I’ve done this a million times before, what is so different about Kyle?
I watch him work in front of me, elbow deep in grease, reaching under the chassis with a wrench. The muscles in his butt tighten as he stretches deeper, his shirt rising up, exposing the lower part of his back. I had my hands on that exact piece of skin a few minutes ago. He let me touch him like no other man ever has.
And then I know the answer.
He’s trusting me, a self-professed Lothario, to understand just how enormous a change us being together will create in his life. To comprehend how his own understanding of himself needs to adapt, and quickly. With that comes a huge amount of responsibility, something I’ve always avoided.
Responsibility outside of work takes me away from my job, from my passion, and from winning. It’s not so much the time that goes into maintaining a relationship, but whoa, that hurt when it breaks down and turns bad is intense and very distracting. That’s not how you secure your position as the best in the world.
To be in control of my car on the track, I need to be able to switch off every other element of my brain and tune in to each nuance of how the vehicle handles, without any exceptions. I can’t do that when I’m messed up with emotional baggage. And so I steer clear. It’s just easier.
I type again and press send before I have a chance to over think the situation. Kyle still has his head under the car, oblivious to the message waiting on his phone when he’s finished up with work.
Clearing my mind, I throw my cell onto the shelf at the side and pull my helmet over my head. Listening only to the sound of my own breath, I climb up into the cockpit ready to be told it’s safe to release.
Kyle
I’ve dressed up for the event. Well, I’m wearing nice jeans and a clean t-shirt. For me, that’s dressing up. I wanted to make it clear that I have made an effort, that this is important to me.
It’s 8pm on the dot and I’ve taken the ten-minute walk through the brush and down to a quieter part of the camp. With eight different race teams testing here, each bringing more than two hundred staff, you’re never able to be isolated. But, Elliott has tried his best and soon I knock on the door on his very private trailer.
I’ve been through every scenario as I doubted my choices while mentally preparing myself for this one-on-one. I’ve constructed elaborate scenarios with rationalizations as to how and why they will all, without exception, turn out OK. I still have a nagging doubt in the back of my head, but if I don’t do this, I’ll never know.
And what can be worse than missed opportunities?
“Come in,” Elliott answers with a mischievous smile that creases the corners of his eyes. He’s also made an effort, also dressing in nice jeans and a t-shirt. I appreciate the way the slim cut enhances his body’s movements.
“Thank you.” I hurry in, conscious for no good reason about being spotted with him.
His trailer smells of shower gel once again, but this time it’s infused with the deliciousness of a meal cooking. “I hope you like what I’ve made, it’s not easy eating out during the season."
"Oh, why? The Paparazzi?"
"Well, yeah, sometimes, but also because my diet is so strict.”
“Whatever you’ve prepared will be just fine.” I don’t know what to do with my hands, and I rest them on my buckle, flicking my nail across the metal.
He’s set the small dining table with cutlery and two glasses. A bottle of water sits in a wine cooler. Despite him just having cooked a meal, every inch of the white surfaces is immaculate.
I’m about to ask what we’re eating, but before I get a chance I’m pinned against a full length cupboard, his lips forcing mine apart. He tastes of peppermint and I eat him up. The full force of his weight is pressed against mine, and the power bursting out of him is exhilarating.
When his lips release me for a second, he mutters, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I want tonight to be a real date. To show you that I’m in this, with you. It’s not just about sex.”
I laugh. “Well, at least the intention is there.” I shove him, only lightly teasing him, but he moves away from me and back to his cooking. Somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach, something sinks. I was enjoying our little foray.
“Let me get you a drink.” He fiddles in the under counter fridge and produces a glass bottle of something homemade.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Iced green tea. It’s one of the more exciting beverages I’m allowed at this time of year.” He grabs a tumbler from the white cupboard over the stove and pours a distinct brown liquid for me.
Placing the glass to my lips, I roll the fluid over my taste buds, “It’s actually not that bad.”
“You get used to it.” He tips his head to one side while screwing the cap back on the bottle, checking and double checking that it’s tight. If I didn’t know better, I’d put money on him being nervous and I feel like I’ve been zapped in the middle of my chest with a cattle prod. My heart races. He really likes me!
I want to set him at ease, so I sidle up behind him and place my hands on his hips. He jumps, but doesn’t move his feet, standing stock still, waiting while I press my stirring cock into his behind.
“It can be a bit about sex though, can’t it?” I whisper, my head resting on his shoulder as I run my fingers on the underside of his t-shirt and round his waist. Sliding them to his front, idling on his buckle, my thumbs skim over his trimmed treasure trail. My lips glance off his neck in a quick succession of kisses. My heartbeat quickens and my breathing rasps in his ear.
He groans, “Oh, Kyle. You drive me crazy.” Elliott’s arms drop to grab at either side of my thighs, working their way up to my butt and pulling me closer. As my hands climb inside his top and over his solid chest, my sharp teeth scrape his skin. His head launches back, the bristles on his chin scratching mine, sending me insane. Dinner can wait.
Elliott
I can’t stand it any longer. I turn and face him. As I do, his fingers which had been exploring my chest, slide to my back. He scratches his nails down my spine and my pelvis juts forward, brushing our cocks against the other, rough fabric grazing our two solid shafts.
Our lips meet and our tongues tangle in a kiss, heavy breathing causing us to pause, gasping fresh air, before delving in again for a deeper exploration. We grind our hips together, the glorious explosions of electricity lighting our nerves. I maneuver him with my body without releasing my grasp on him, pushing him toward my cream leather couch.
Our legs intertwine as we walk as one and he groans as his cock smashes into my side. I linger, moving against him.
The seat butts against his knees. Kyle crumbles down into it and I sink to the floor, kneeling between his parted legs. Unlocking his buckle, the strip of leather falls slack. His excitement bulges through his pants. Pressing my hand over it, I raise his t-shirt to reveal his stomach and nip his flesh gently with my teeth, working lower.
His button shifts through the hole, and his zipper glides down between my fingers. I look up and meet his eyes, my eyebrows raised. He lifts his hips without a second of hesitation and my heart swells with illicit desire. Grabbing two layers of fabric, I free him so he’s naked from the waist down and as he sits in that seat, I’m aware this is the first time I’ve really seen him. The first occasion where I’ve had the time and being neither rushed nor distracted.
I grip the base of his shaft in one hand, pulling back his foreskin to display his throbbing head.
“Oh, God, Elliott, you’re going to drive me nuts,” he says as I tease the sensitive underside of his head with my tongue, refusing to give him the relief yet of gliding down my throat. He’s shoving into me, involuntary twitches showing me he wants me just as much as I need him. As much as I crave him.
I move my hand, slowing my pace, savoring being with him, enjoying the luxury of unhurried private time. Flicking my tongue over the wet slit of his cock, the salty fluid hardens me so that I’m almost bursting free of my underwear.
I stand, releasing the pressure, and he watches. His eyes don’t leave my hands as I release myself. His own hand continuing the motion of long, slow strokes, stopping only briefly to remove his top and kick his pants free from where they’re gathered at his ankles.
When my naked legs hit the cool floor again, I’m ready to take him. I push his feet up to rest on the couch, and as his knees spread, his butt inches forward, so he’s half hanging off the edge. I don’t even have to guide him. It’s instinctive, his need to explore and be explored.
I run my tongue down the sensitive underside of his shaft, his balls tighten and I take one hand down to my own, moving slowly so as not to ignite a passion that cannot be reversed before I’m ready. I chase my tongue up again, to his tip, and as I finally slide my wet, hot mouth over him, he groans.
“Ohhh, I can't hold on much longer.”
I trail the tip of my index finger between his legs, where my tongue has just licked, and tease around his tight muscles.
He moans, “Elliott, you’re going to make me come.” He thrusts his cock all the way down to the back of my throat. His neck tips back, exposing his throat and arching his back. “Stop!”
Kyle
I want him so bad, but this is too soon. We’re finally alone, without any time pressures, and I won’t let this end in a flurry of overexcited indulgence before I’ve had the chance to at least experience some of the filth that has been racing through my head since we met.
“Come up here with me.” I beckon him onto the sofa with my arm.
The ice blue of his eyes has melted into deep pools full of desire. He's transparent to his core.
“I have a better idea.” He thrusts his hand out. I meet it with mine and he hauls me off my seat, pulling me toward his bedroom.
I feel like the most special individual in the universe. I’ve forgotten Elliott is a celebrity. He’s a person with whom my connection is so strong it’s driving me into a hedonistic world of self-discovery. I want to learn how to satisfy him, as he does me.
When we’re on the bed I roll him onto his back and the tempo changes. I lean over him and kiss him. I’m not attacking him with a desperate need, I want him to enjoy the strength of my wanting. This isn’t sex without a purpose. I need to communicate whatever the hell is going on in my heart. Show him that I accept whatever it is we are, and that I feel as though he is the one person in the world with whom I speak the same language.
His mouth matches my intensity. The soft, unspoken words of acknowledgment.
“Lie back,” I whisper in his ear.
He says nothing and does as he’s told, hands on my shoulders as I kiss every inch of his skin on my trail to take him in my mouth.
I start at the tip, tentative about how hard to suck, roll my tongue around his head, tasting him. Saliva forms in my mouth, and I slide down, until he’s hitting the back of my throat. He holds still, his hands remaining gentle on my shoulders, letting me work this out, giving me his body for my experimentation.
I move my mouth upwards, trailing my tongue over his shaft, wrapping my teeth in my wet lips and groaning as he moves just a little within me.
“Are you OK?” I stop, look at him, my eyes just a little too wide, panicked that I’m no good at this, that my newly discovered desire isn’t natural enough to satiate him.
“Yeah, you’ve got this. Keep going. It’s amazing.” I release the breath I’d been holding, recapture him in my mouth as he says, “You are amazing, Kyle.”
The words melt me and I delve down with more speed, more confidence. He’s moving against me, with me, into me and, Oh God, my body just wants more, I need to take him deeper and deeper down my throat, I gag and then slip my lips back up again, encircling him with my tongue, before swallowing him again.
“I’m going to come.” He gasps, tapping my shoulder.
