“Hmm . . . I lost count.” He chuckled. “Yeah, of course I’m up for it. Just be a little gentle until it gets fully hard. I’m so numb and sensitive right now. It feels like it’s raw. It’s so weird.”
“Well we’re weirdos aren’t we?” I flashed a smile at him even though his eyes were still closed.
He smiled back. “Snorrie and Gunther. Two sex fiends.”
“Sex fiends, and sex friends.”
“That’s right. We can have it all, Lorrie.”
It took a few minutes of gentle massaging before Hunter became fully erect. During that time, he was stroking my sex with his hand, heightening my arousal to match his. When we were both ready, I straddled his waist and rode him until we both came.
When I woke up again, night had fallen, and Hunter was snoring gently. We had fed the kittens, snacked on some powerbars for dinner and came back to the bed to nap. The bed was fast becoming a home within a home.
I watched him sleep peacefully. I was amused at the irony of him calling me Snorrie when he snored as well. It felt so surreal being with him now, in this moment. We were snuggled up naked together like we were in our own little world. Just him, me, and an ocean of blankets. It was so simple compared to the chaos happening outside this apartment. Everything out there—the rumors, the homework, the deaths, the stress, the sadness—seemed to disappear when I was with Hunter in this bed.
Eventually he woke up.
“What do you think about the future, Hunter?” I said softly.
He blinked away his drowsiness and smiled warmly at me. “Hm? Like what about it?”
“I dunno. Like end of this semester when you graduate. What are you going to do?”
“Haven’t really thought about it.” He chuckled. “I’ll probably get a job somewhere, work. There aren’t a lot of jobs related to physics but I’m sure I’ll find something. What about you?”
“I haven’t really thought about it much either. It’s so confusing: the future, real life. I wish I didn’t have to face it.”
“Me too, Lorrie.” He kissed my forehead. “You’re a sophomore, so you still have a few years to figure it out. Whereas for me, I got a few months.” He laughed.
“I don’t want us to break up because you graduate,” I said softly.
His expression became serious. “We won’t. We can face the future together. We’re both good with our hands—you got the drawing skills and I got the punching skills. We can team up and start an art gallery. You’ll do the art pieces and I’ll knock out the competitors.”
I laughed. “Mmmhmm. I like that idea. But what if the competitors start hiring their own muscle?”
“I’ll take ‘em all down.” He kissed my nose. “Anything for you.”
“You’re so sweet.” I beamed, returning the kiss. “Hey, do you have a pencil and a piece of paper?” I said, suddenly inspired. “I kind of want to draw you.”
He grinned. “Sure.” We both emerged from the blankets, naked. He flicked on the bedroom lights and retrieved the requested items from his desk beside the dresser. As I took his desk chair, flipped it around to face him, and sat down, he made the bed neatly and stretched across it. “Alright, how do you want me?”
“How do I want you? Umm . . . I want you . . . all over me, actually,” I teased as I reached for a thin physics workbook on his desk and used it to prop up the piece of paper Hunter gave me.
Hunter narrowed his eyes then eagerly jumped off the bed, his c**k bouncing as he walked over to my side, a seductive smile on his lips. My pulse leaped. As often as I’d seen Hunter without clothes over the past twenty-four hours, I was certain I’d never get tired of seeing him naked. He was too beautiful.
“I was just joking,” I said with a smirk. I playfully slapped his semi-erect c**k by my shoulder making it wobble back and forth. “I mean, I do want you all over me . . . but after I finish this drawing.”
“Of course,” he said, grinning. He left my side and settled back on the bed. “So what kind of pose do you want?”
I thought about all the pictures hanging on the wall in Bigg’s Gym where the fighters had the same aggressive pose. I had enough drawings of Hunter looking intimidating. I wanted to sketch the vulnerable side of him, the side I’d only seen recently. “Why don’t you choose a comfortable position. Sitting or laying. It’s up to you, whatever’s relaxing enough that you can hold it for like twenty minutes.”
He smiled. “Okay.” He shifted around on the bed, trying out different positions. Eventually, he settled into a dramatic laying pose with his finger outstretched toward me. One knee was raised while the other leg lay on its side, and his outstretched left arm supported him from the bed.
Even under the bedroom’s soft lighting, the sharp lines of his naked body contrasted boldly with the smooth sheets beneath him. I’d always drawn parts of Hunter from memory—his hammer tattoo, his face—but now I had him as a live subject. All of him. An excitement swelled inside of me as I began to scan the length of his exposed figure.
My gaze started from his large feet and my pulse began beating faster as I moved toward those powerful legs that were used to drive vicious punches against his opponents. My breath hitched at the sight of his savage c**k draped lazily over the side of one thigh. I felt my thighs become heated as I thought about how the expert use of that one part of him could pull mind-shattering orgasms from my body. My gaze snagged on his pelvis and I bit my lip, following the hard lines up to his trim hips and then to his pack of ab muscles that were so cut they appeared flexed even when I knew he was relaxed. They looked so yummy that I wanted to lick them slowly all the way from the bottom to base of his pecs. His chest was composed of two chiseled slabs of flesh, expanding and contracting with each of his calm breaths. I reached his face and was mesmerized by those dark gray eyes filled with depth and mystery. Behind those irises hid a past that I didn’t know about. What was it like to have drug-addict parents? A thread of doubt twisted through me. Could I really capture the essence of Hunter in a drawing?
He smiled at me. “How’s this?”
“Umm . . . that’s a classic pose from the Sistine Chapel.” I giggled, recalling the fresco painting titled The Creation of Adam. “Unfortunately, my name’s not Michelangelo and this isn’t the 1500s.”