Jock Next Bed (BL)
Chapter 225: It... happened

Chapter 225: It... happened

Chris hadn’t even realized how far his hands had traveled.

He was still half-pressed to Sky’s chest, kissing him slowly, messily—half from hunger, half from how overwhelmed he was. His fingers wandered underneath the bunched-up shirts, over smooth skin, hard muscle, each breath Sky took making his chest rise and fall into Chris’s palm like a tide.

But something about the way Sky breathed—not quite shallow, but deliberate—made Chris pause.

He pulled back a little, just enough to study Sky’s expression, even through the blindfold. "You’re okay?"

Sky gave a tiny nod, lips parted. "Yeah..."

Chris kissed him again. Softer this time. His fingers skimmed higher, tracing the curve of a rib, sliding inward over the center of Sky’s chest. Then he noticed another scar he had missed.

It was faint, but it was there.

A smooth, horizontal line across the center of Sky’s chest—nearly faded, but Chris’s fingertips were too curious, too careful not to notice. He traced it without comment, just letting his touch ask the question.

Sky’s body was tense, and then... slowly, it eased.

He didn’t say anything.

So Chris didn’t either.

He just leaned in, kissed along Sky’s jaw, and whispered, "You feel different than I imagined."

Sky made a sound—almost a scoff, almost a challenge—but Chris smirked and added, "I thought you’d be softer."

That finally made Sky laugh—a real one, shaky but full. "Seriously?"

Chris chuckled against his neck. "I mean, with how dramatic you act sometimes, I thought you’d be all delicate under here."

"Dramatic?" Sky asked in a disbelieving but overwhelmed tone.

"Mm-hm. And then you pin me like that?" Chris nuzzled lower, letting his nose brush Sky’s collarbone. "No wonder you could flip me so easily."

"I told you, didn’t I?" Sky said, his voice curling with that mischievous edge. "Strong enough to do whatever I want."

Chris kissed over his throat, then back up to his lips. "That’s the part I’m worried about."

Then, teasingly, he pinched Sky’s nipple—gentle, but with intent.

Sky flinched with a sharp inhale. "Hey—!"

Chris laughed against his mouth. "Sensitive?"

"You’re such a—"

But the rest of his insult drowned in another kiss, as Chris’s hand left his chest and started to trail downward again.

It glided back over Sky’s stomach, still warm from earlier touch. He passed over the old scar along Sky’s side but he let his fingers pause there for just a breath, enough to remind them both that Chris noticed everything. That he wasn’t just touching blindly—he was learning.

And then... his hand kept going.

Down, slowly, until it reached the waistband of Sky’s pants.

Chris stilled.

His lips were still brushing Sky’s. Their breaths tangled. The room felt hot, charged, slow in the best way.

Chris waited for a second. Just in case.

Sky didn’t pull away. He didn’t say anything either.

His hands—still free, still not touching—twitched slightly against the sheets.

Chris whispered, "Tell me if you want to stop."

Sky didn’t speak.

Instead, with the blindfold still on, he tilted his head and kissed Chris. It was deep. Decisive. Yes.

Chris’s hand moved, resting right there—just at the hem. He didn’t slip under yet. Just held him. Firm. Present. Reverent.

"You trust me?" he murmured.

Sky didn’t miss a beat. "No, bastard."

Chris let out a breathy laugh, grin stretching across his flushed face. "You’re picking up my vocabulary real quick."

Sky didn’t respond, but Chris could see the ghost of a smirk at the edge of his lips.

With a soft exhale, Chris gently lifted himself off and slid down beside Sky. Not away, never away—just enough to be side by side, chest against arm, lips hovering near Sky’s jaw, and their legs still tangled. The closeness felt louder than anything. Louder than their breathing, louder than the blood rushing in his ears.

Chris didn’t rush.

He let his hand drift again, featherlight along Sky’s stomach, pausing just a moment above the waistband.

And then... he slipped in.

First under the fabric of the pants, then further, until his hand met the brief, warm barrier of Sky’s underwear. Yes, because he was always fortified. Covering up more than a nun even.

Chris inhaled sharply.

The frustration was immediate. Delicious. Unbearable.

Sky heard it—Chris’s restraint straining at the seams—and laughed. It wasn’t loud. It was low, a little breathy, but genuine.

Despite the tension in his muscles, despite the blindfold still covering his eyes, Sky chuckled.

"You sound like you’re suffering," he murmured.

Chris pressed his forehead to Sky’s temple. "I am suffering," he whispered. "You’re... ridiculous."

He didn’t do anything yet—just stayed there. Feeling the heat. The shape of him through the cloth. It was maddening. Sky didn’t seem like he was quite big down there. But Chris did not mind. Sky was hard. For him.

Chris’s hand moved. Slow. Intentional.

He palmed Sky over the briefs, applying just enough pressure to feel how hard he already was. He swallowed down a groan, kissed along Sky’s jaw again, then said, "You’re so damn warm."

Sky shifted slightly, his breath hitching.

Chris had barely wrapped his hand around him when Sky’s body jolted—tense, almost recoiling.

"Wait—!" Sky’s voice cracked as he suddenly pulled back, hands pushing at Chris’s chest, not harshly, but urgently. Chris blinked, stunned, confused, his hand pausing in place.

"What? What’s wrong?" Chris asked, his voice hushed but alarmed.

Sky was gasping, flushed from his throat to his ears, the blindfold still tied but trembling with each breath he took. His hand reached down instinctively, trying to cover himself, but it was too late.

There was a pause.

Then Chris felt it.

The heat.

The wet.

The unmistakable sensation pooling under his palm.

His fingers twitched, pulling back like he’d been stung.

"Wait... did you—?" Chris’s eyes widened.

Sky groaned, rolling slightly to the side in absolute humiliation, tugging at the blindfold with one shaky hand but not managing to get it off. "God—shit—just... don’t look at me."

Chris was stunned. Frozen, honestly.

He came.