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Pinch Me, I’m Yours

By Mia Watts

“What the fuck are you doing, Grey?”

Jarrod Nelson knew exactly what Grey was doing. He’d certainly imagined it enough times in

the past twelve years they’d known each other, but he’d never believed Grey Lackley would try

it on him .

Grey looked up at him. His golden hued eyes warmed when they crinkled at the corners and for

a minute, his fingers flexed on Jarrod’s hips as though he were worried Jarrod would try to back

away.

No way in hell that was happening.

Grey was a wet dream. Golden haired, golden eyed, golden bronze skin from hours on

construction sites made a mockery of his bland sounding name. Grey was anything but gray. He

was beautiful.

And he knew it.

“Three guesses and the first two don’t count,” Grey murmured, his voice husky and warm.

The part of Jarrod’s brain which needed to make sense of things warred with the part that told

him to shut up and let Grey work whatever magic he wanted to.

“Tying my shoe?” Jarrod joked.

Having Grey on his knees in front of him couldn’t possibly be for the reasons Jarrod hoped.

Grey’s emotional commitment to another man lasted about as long as a Kleenex during flu

season.

Grey popped the button on Jarrod’s jeans, took the zipper between his perfect teeth and

dragged it down. At least Jarrod didn’t have to worry about Grey noticing his erection. There

wasn’t a cock created that could withstand Grey in full seduction mode, and Jarrod’s was no

different.

Or maybe it was. Jarrod’s cock had wanted Grey for every second of those twelve years and had

plenty of time to load the arsenal. With his luck, he’d shoot his wad before Grey finished taking

his pants off.

“One,” Grey counted off. “The next one doesn’t count either.”

“You need glasses and mistook my dick for a sippy cup?” Jarrod asked, his breath growing short.

“I mean, this isn’t exactly the height of romantic.” He gestured, pointedly indicating the stark

cement pillars and rubble surrounding them.

“Two. Gotta make the next one count, buddy,” Grey warned.

He linked his fingers in the empty belt loops. In a firm tug, he yanked them to the ground. Grey

howled with laughter, when the zipper split into the seaming. The placket opened to reveal a

pink lace g‐string.

“Oh. My. God! That’s the funniest, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I think what totally makes this

moment is the fact that your cock is waving at me from the leg hole.”

“Jesus, Grey.” Jarrod scrambled to reach for them. “We’re in the middle of a fucking

construction site.”

“With orange construction plastic on the fencing. No one can see us or your thong‐tho‐thong‐

thong. Besides, I need a favor.”

“What? What the fuck kind of favor do you need that has you sucking my dick?” Jarrod tried in

vain to grab his jeans. Grey didn’t give him the room he needed to accomplish it.

“A week ago at Frankie’s party. You said the next time I needed a favor, I’d have to suck your

dick first.”

“What’s the favor?” Jarrod asked, his voice hitching with panic.

“Haven’t gotten that far yet.”

Devilment entered Grey’s eyes. It was a wicked gleam that nearly erased every thought in

Jarrod’s mind. Mentally shaking himself, he remembered the night. He’d spent a week finessing

a particularly hot client at the firm because Grey had wanted the guy to call him for a date.

Only, when they guy called and they had their date, Grey stood the client up to attend Frankie’s

party instead.

“This is me,” Grey said with quiet determination, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of

Jarrod’s pink lace. “Sucking you into a favor.”

Jarrod grabbed his hands. “It’s a fucking figure of speech.”

Grey cocked an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you don’t want a blow job?”

Of course he wanted a blow job. He especially wanted a blow job from Grey. Who didn’t? The

man was a god with a mouth made of purified sin. Perfect and beautiful in the way that Lucifer

himself surely was, and had more sculpted angles than Michelangelo’s finest work, without the

hardness of marble.

Well… some hardness. And God, what amazing hardness it was. He’d seen it once and Jarrod

could practically swear he’d heard a chorus of angels singing when Grey’s thick cock popped

out of briefs that day in the locker room.

Jarrod wondered if Grey’s dick was as proudly insolent as he remembered. Given its owner, he

knew it had to be. But it wasn’t Grey’s anatomy he was thinking about, it was his own. As they

argued, Grey wrestled down Jarrod’s thong.

“There it is. Unhindered and re‐manned,” he murmured, his breath caressing Jarrod’s naked

cock.

“Yeah, I tend to leave it in the same place every night.” Jarrod stumbled backward.

“Ooo‐hooo!”

Jarrod and Grey both looked to the side where the neighboring apartment complex was. A little

old lady in a twin set and pearls waved from her balcony. Lavender? Was her hair actually

lavender? Couldn’t be.

“Ooo‐hoo!” She waved at them. “Come inside, boys. I made cookies.”

“Jesus. We’re gonna get arrested for indecent exposure,” Jarrod complained, tugging at Grey’s

hands.

“She thinks we’re kids.”

With a mighty tug, Grey won the underwear battle and Jarrod had exactly two seconds—albeit

thoroughly distracted seconds since the old lady came out to brandish a bag of M&Ms over the

balcony—to object.

Hot and wet, Grey’s mouth hugged the tip of Jarrod’s cock. He groaned, torn between

desperation to make Grey stop and bio‐physical insistence that Grey never, ever, ever quit

doing—oh, God, yes, exactly that— fuck !

“Ooo‐hooo! Come inside, duckies.”

Jarrod was too far gone, eyes closed on the slick pleasure molding his tip. Something small and

weightless pelted his shoulder. Goddamn construction site. Only Grey would find this amusing.

Their first sexual encounter, ever, and pieces of old cement was showering down around them?

Another one hit and several pfits dinked on the ground around them.

“If I’m gonna die in a rubble pile, please God let it be like this‐ss,” Jarrod hissed as Grey’s mouth

took him deeper.

The pelting stopped and Grey picked up the rhythm, cupped Jarrod’s balls in his free hand. He

groaned and Jarrod nearly hit his knees with pleasure—would have, if hitting his knees didn’t

take his cock out of Grey’s mouth.

“Ooo‐hoo!” The old lady sounded closer. Much like Jarrod’s orgasm. “You boys don’t mind if I

watch?”

Grey yelped. “You pinched my ass?”

“Aren’t you boys precious?” she said.

Horrified, Jarrod peeked at her. Had the little old lady run down her steps? Grey stopped

sucking, but only until Jarrod grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back on.

“Too close. Don’t fucking stop now,” Jarrod plead.

“She pinched my ass,” Grey explained around a mouthful.

Slowly at first and then with increasing enthusiasm, Grey returned to his task. His tongue flicked

the rim tip, cradled the underside of his cock. His lips pulled. His cheeks hollowed. Without

warning, he slipped the tip of his finger into Jarrod’s puckered hole sending Jarrod through the

proverbial roof with pleasure.

“Oh God!” he groaned, ready to explode.

“Oh! Oh, my!” the old lady declared.

Jarrod felt a sharp tweak to his left ass cheek. The old duckie was a pervert. She probably had

Alzheimer’s too. “Don’t touch, ma’am.”

She pinched him again. “Such a firm paddy you have. Round and firm young paddies.”

Paddy ?

Jarrod ignored her. His pleasure loomed too great, too close to care that the lady watched and

touched. It was probably the fucking highlight of her cloistered, lavender‐haired life anyway.

Something hit Jarrod square on the belly button. He dared to open his eyes. He shouldn’t have.

The old lady shoved a handful of M&Ms into her mouth, but not before she’d plucked out a red

one and flung it at them.

“Bravo!” she called.

Jarrod watched in horror as she circled around them cheering them on with red M&Ms by way

of confetti. As she walked behind him, and Jarrod swiveled his head to see what he was up to,

she tweaked his ass on both sides and shoved several round orbs into the top of his crack.

“Oh shit, not the red one’s lady. For God’s sake, not the red ones!” Jarrod’s panic distracted him

from Grey’s mastery.

Grey, bless him, sucked firmly, demanding Jarrod’s focus. He got it, especially when with a final

roll of Jarrod’s balls, he could no longer hold back. Bucking forward, he kept a wary eye on the

angry‐eyed M&Ms flinging at him by the over‐zealous octogenarian woo‐hooing as sensation

overwhelmed him.

Crying out in unison with Old Lady howls, he shot into Grey’s eager mouth.

Grey cleaned him off, then leveled a death glare on the old lady. “Don’t you know red ones

cause cancer? I don’t mind you watching, but geez, lady, don’t freak out my guy.”

“Your guy?” Grey asked. Jarrod usually didn’t do commitment. It was another one of those

reasons to avoid romantic entanglement with his best friend.

Jarrod looked up at him, his lips still shiny. He didn’t look so good. He paled and lifted his

shoulder in a half shrug.

“I thought you were one‐offing me for a favor,” Grey pressed.

For some reason, the fact that his dick was hanging out in the open, sated and slick, an old

woman with purple hair was pelting him with red M&Ms between ass‐pinches, and Jarrod

kneeled before him like a broken knight, flew out the window of his concern. All that mattered

was the truth of Jarrod’s statement.

Did he want more? Did Jarrod see him as long term potential beyond their bro‐mance status.

Best friends, sure. They’d been inseparable for years. Lovers? Grey tried to calm his racing

heart. God, he hadn’t wanted anything more than he wanted Grey all to himself. They clicked.

They finished each other’s sentences. They’d weathered boyfriends who’d been jealous of their

relationship. They’d been through it all, seeing the bad, the good, and the ugly together.

Mia Watts - Pinch Me, I'm Yours.pdf

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