Mornings

My alarm goes off at 7. Squinting through bleary eyes, I reach for my phone, hit the "stop" button in the dark. Blissful silence washes over the hotel room--broken by the sound of someone breathing gently next to me.

"Nick," I murmur.

"I'm awake," he says, rolling over to face me.

"Hm." I let my head sink back to the pillow. "I'm not."

He laughs softly. The sound has wormed its way into my brain the past six days we've been sleeping together, creating a pleasant buzz in my chest. I wish I could deny that I feel something. I really wish I could. But the gentle laughs, the way he feels inside me, the way he shifts next to me in bed first thing in the morning--I can't deny that I want more of this after the tournament ends.

I'm drifting back off, mulling over whatever the hell this feeling is, when I feel Nick's fingers touching the side of my face, along the stubble. I open one of my eyes and see him, dimly lit by the crack in the curtains, looking down at me.

"What?" A smile cracks my lips as his hand traces my jawline.

"You're fucking adorable when you're sleepy," he says. His voice is low, gravelly. His hands are on my throat now, not squeezing--he's done plenty of that this past week--just stroking. He's being so gentle that it almost breaks me.

"Nick, I--"

"Shh." He lowers his head and kisses me, slowly, sloppily. "Don't."

"But--"

"Don't," he says again. "I know."

Before I can protest, he's back to kissing me, keeping me nice and quiet. His hand moves from my throat downward, gently tracing lines across my chest. And God, his touch feels good, warm, inviting. I let myself get lost in him, pulling him closer to me, as his hand flutters over my stomach muscles, down my trail, and to the base of my cock.

He pulls back from kissing me to give me a lopsided grin. "Good morning," he says.

"Fuck," I sigh.

"That's no way to wish a man good morning," he says, wrapping his hand around the shaft. Giving me a gentle stroke. "Want to try again?"

"Good morning," I manage, glancing down to watch his hand trace around my cock. Even his hands are hot, I realize, watching the veins shift as he turns his wrist.

"That's much better," he says. Then his face is in the crook of my neck, kissing and nibbling down to my collarbone. I let out a whimper and I feel his smile against my skin. He leans up to whisper in my ear. "Much fucking better."

He's stroking, but so slowly and gently that I can't take it. My hips jerk against his hand and the pace gets even slower.

"You want something?" he mutters in my ear.

"Fuck," I groan.

His hand stops moving completely.

"Beg for it," he whispers.

The sound that escapes me is inhuman. But inhuman won't get what I want, what I need. I force myself to speak words. "Please. Fuck, please. Please, Nick."

"Please do what?" he teases.

"Please suck my fucking cock." I feel his grip change, a half-stroke. "Please--"

His mouth's back on mine, giving me another sloppy kiss. Then he's sliding down my body, his warm skin pressing into mine, his tongue snaking across my torso. The sensation is electric, and my hips jerk again, beyond my control.

But soon enough his mouth's at the base of my cock, hot and wet and inviting. He works up to the tip, sucking and kissing, so slowly it's torturous.

"Fucking hell," I moan. "Please, fuck."

He swallows me whole.

"Fuck!" My hands grope around for the back of his head, tangle in his hair. I no longer know if it's involuntary, but my hips are jerking up into his face, pushing my cock deeper into his throat with every thrust. His tongue's working the underside while I fuck his face.

"Fuck," I whimper. "Fuck, Nick, your mouth feels so fucking good."

He groans in response, the vibrations travel through my cock to the rest of my body. I can feel his spit pooling at the base, his tongue lapping at the tip, his throat caressing the length. How the fuck did I manage to find someone with no gag reflex?

I'm getting close now. I tighten my grip on his hair, knotting my fingers in his curls. "I'm gonna cum," I breathe.

"Hm?" he says, mouth still wrapped around me.

Fuck. Right. "Can I cum," I try. "Please."

"Mmhmm," Nick says. And somehow he's taking even more of me now, still not gagging, still sucking and licking and stroking.

"Please, fuck," I groan, and release shoots through me. My cock twitches in his mouth and I cum, hard, down his throat.

Slowly, I untangle my fingers from his hair. He pulls his mouth off of me, gently sucking to make sure I'm empty. He's swallowed it all.

"I-- fuck." I don't know what to say.

He laughs softly. "You good?"

"Yeah. Shit. What time is it?" I grope around for my phone. It's 7:26.

Tonight's the last game of the tournament. After we celebrate our win, or mourn our loss, we're both headed back home to our respective teams. And God, I do not want to lose the hottest fuck of my life.

"I--" The words don't want to come to my lips. "What-- What happens after tonight?"

Nick sighs, kisses the tip of my cock, settles his head down on my stomach. "I don't know," he says.

"I mean, fuck, we live across the country from each other."

"Yeah."

"But--"

"I know," he says. His eyes are closed in the half-dark, like he's trying to formulate his thoughts too. "I know."

My 7:30 alarm goes off then, and we both groan. I turn it off. Nick extricates himself from between my legs, walks across to the curtains, peers through the gap.

"Outside world still there?" I ask.

"Sure is," he says, opening the curtain a crack more. His body looks amazing in the early morning light, his ass sculpted. He looks back at me like he knows exactly what I was staring at. "Come on, Jas. Time to get up."