Tutoring Eric

Irving smiled and leaned forward, kissing Eric lightly on the cheek. Eric gasped at the gentle touch, his lips parting. Irving took his hand, pressing his lips against the knuckles one by one. The warm moisture of his lips and breath, the teasing touch of skin against skin: it was more than Eric could bear. He felt himself becoming quickly aroused. Then Irving reached his thumb and sucked it, his tongue lapping hard against the pad, and Eric’s mouth went completely dry. Gasping, he jerked involuntarily backwards.

“Irv--”

Irving stopped, bringing their hands down. “I can slow down.”

Eric shook his head, finding himself unable to meet Irving’s gaze.
“Sorry. I’m just not used to . . . I’m just not used to getting so worked up.” His eyelids fluttered, and there was a lump in his throat.

“Hey, no need to apologize.” Irving was calm, reassuring.

Suddenly someone knocked loudly at the door. Both Irving and Eric shouted at the same time. “OCCUPIED!”

They looked at each other and laughed. Irving jumped off of the bed. “We’d better lock this door just in case.”

The words made chills run down Eric’s spine. In case?