My Uncle Chris – Part 10

[Commission Piece]

Everyone in this story is 18+

-------------Grayson’s POV------------

I still couldn’t believe we were actually doing this.

Ten whole days. London. First class. Me and Chris. No parents. No hiding. No sneaking around closets or climbing out windows. Just us, in a metal tube, thirty thousand feet up with champagne in our hands and a blanket over our laps.

Chris sat beside me, leaning back in his seat with his eyes half closed, like he was finally letting himself relax. He looked good like that. Soft jawline in the cabin lights, collar open just enough to tease, hands resting loose at his sides. I couldn’t stop glancing at him. I didn’t even try. He was so handsome it almost hurt..

I kicked at his ankle. “So this is how the other half lives, huh?”

He cracked an eye open and smiled. “Figured you deserved it.”

“Didn’t know you were a first-class kind of guy.”

“I’m not, I usually fly business.” he said, turning his head toward me. “Only for you.”

God, he really knew how to get me.

The flight attendant brought over champagne and water in glassware so nice I actually hesitated before picking mine up. Chris raised his flute and I met it halfway.

“To graduation,” he said.

“To fucking freedom,” I replied, clinking them together.

We drank, and for a while we just sat in the low light, surrounded by quiet conversation and the soft hum of the engines. But I was wired. Restless. Hard already just from the way he was lounging, from the way I kept replaying the party in my head, the kiss upstairs, the way he’d looked at me right before I closed the bedroom door.

We both changed into the silk pajamas the airline had provided. The fabric felt insanely smooth against my skin—almost as good as Chris’s body pressed against mine.

I let my hand slip beneath the soft blanket draped over us, resting lightly on his thigh. He didn’t react right away, so I shifted slightly, letting my pinky graze the growing bulge at the front of his pajama pants.

He exhaled quietly.

“You’re hard already?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“You have your hand on my thigh,” he said. “What do you think?”

I smirked as my hand wandered to his waistband, catching a glimpse of the fabric underneath. “You wore those boxers again, didn’t you?”

“Different pair,” he muttered.

I raised an eyebrow. “You stole another one?”

“Swiped them while I was hiding in your closet.”

“You little fucker,” I said, sliding my hand up to cup him properly. “You’re such a perv.”

“Please,” he whispered. “You love it.”

I did. God help me, I really did.

I leaned in close to his ear. “If you stay quiet, I’ll make you cum right here.”

“Grays—” he started, but the words caught in his throat.

He just nodded, eyes locked on mine.

I shifted in my seat, slipped my hand under the blanket, and started rubbing him through the fabric. He was thick and getting harder fast, pressing into my palm with every teasing stroke.

He slipped his hand over to my lap, fingers finding me just as stiff and hard. His touch was careful at first, but it didn’t take long before he was stroking me too, both of us working each other in sync. I slid my hand into his boxers and wrapped around his warm dick properly, slow at first, then tighter. His cock was all swollen, already leaking and I could feel his heartbeat with every stroke.

We had our own cubicle and the blanket hid most of the movement, but if anyone was really watching… yeah, they’d probably guess. Not that I cared.

His hips jerked once. I kissed the side of his neck and whispered, “Don’t lose it yet.”

“I’m trying,” he hissed.

“Not hard enough.”

I picked up the pace just a little, pumping him with my fist, thumb gliding over the head. His hand tightened on my cock in return, stroking fast now. We were both close, tense, teeth clenched, breathing fast through our noses like we were holding back something massive.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” I purred. “Then give it to me. Right here.”

His body twitched under the blanket, and I felt it. Warm, thick spurts flooding my hand as his chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. He bit down on the edge of his knuckle, trying to keep quiet, but I saw the way his eyes rolled back, the way his stomach tensed.

I didn’t stop jerking him until he was fully spent, cock twitching in my palm. Then I lifted my hand, brought my fingers to my mouth, and licked them clean one by one. Eyes on him the whole time.

He looked wrecked. And a little in love.

“You’re evil,” he said under his breath.

“You still want to tell me no?”

“Never.”

His hand moved again, and within seconds, I was panting through my own orgasm, unleashing into his fist while he kissed my neck, telling me how fucking sexy I looked like this, how tight I’d be wrapped around his cock later if we weren’t trapped in airline seats. I clenched his arm, trying not to groan too loud as my cum coated his fingers, soaking into the blanket between us.

When it was done, we both sat there for a while, hands sticky, hearts racing, not saying much. Just grinning.

I wiped my hand on the edge of the blanket and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

He was quiet again. Not in a sleepy way—something else. Something distant.

“You okay?” I asked, brushing my thumb across the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” he said. Then after a pause, “Things at home are… complicated.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to think about it right now,” he added. “I just want to be here. With you.”

I squeezed his hand. “You are.”

He leaned into me, eyes slipping shut.

A few seconds passed before he mumbled, eyes still closed, “Remind me to take off these cummy boxers before we land.”

I chuckled under my breath. “I’m looking forward to going through security later. Both of us going commando, our messy boxers stuffed in the bag.”

He smiled again, even half-asleep.

I watched him for a long moment as he drifted off, his fingers still laced with mine, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm I could feel in my own.

He looked peaceful. And with him, so did I.