My Uncle Chris – Part 7

[Commission Piece]

Everyone in this story is 18+

-------------Chris’s POV------------

The room was still and quiet, the faint light of morning creeping through the blinds and casting long lines across the bedspread. I was warm—warmer than usual. Wrapped up in something more than the covers. Someone.

Grayson of course.

His arm draped lazily over my waist, his chest flush to my back. His breath, slow and steady, tickled the edge of my ear. I stayed perfectly still, afraid even the smallest movement would break the fragile, perfect quiet of the morning.

And then I felt it.

Thick. Solid and unrelenting. Pressed firmly between the cheeks of my ass—his morning wood, nestled exactly where it really shouldn’t be.

I froze, blood pounding in my ears. But I didn’t move away.

If anything, I pressed back just a little. Just enough to feel the full length of him, warm and heavy against me. I could feel the heat rising in my chest, creeping up the back of my neck.

Grayson stirred behind me, his arm tightening slightly around my waist. His lips brushed the top of my shoulder, barely a whisper of contact, but I felt it everywhere. He put his hand lower on my own morning wood.

"Good morning," he murmured, voice sleep-thick and husky, every word sliding against my skin like silk. "You always wake up this hard?"

I swallowed, too aware of the way my own hard dick strained against my briefs. “More often these days,” I managed to say, voice low.

"I like that," he said, his hand already slipping lower. His fingers brushed across my stomach, then dipped beneath the waistband of my underwear. "Especially when I’m the reason."

I should’ve said something. I should’ve stopped him. But I didn’t, we had already crossed nearly every boundary we could. I let my hips twitch forward into his hand as he curled his fingers around my erection and began to stroke me slowly, clearly savoring each drag sending a ripple of need through my body.

"You don’t have to pretend," he whispered, mouth moving against the nape of my neck. "Not with me."

I squeezed my eyes shut. No one had ever touched me like this—not like this. With care. With curiosity. Like I wasn’t just something to fuck, but something to learn, to worship.

"I want you to relax," he said, fingers tightening gently. "Let me take care of you."

He moved slowly, rolling me onto my back, eyes flicking over my body like he was trying to memorize every inch. The intensity in his gaze nearly undid me.

He kissed me then. Long, lingering. No hurry, no desperation. Just pressure and breath and meaning. When his mouth left mine, it trailed lower—across my jaw, my throat, my collarbone.

By the time he reached my stomach, I was already panting, my fingers tangled in the sheets.

When he took me into his mouth, the air left my lungs in one long exhale. His lips were soft but sure, wrapping around me with slow purpose. He moved like he wasn’t in a rush. Like this was something he’d wanted to do for a long time.

And maybe it was.

His tongue traced every inch with care, dipping along the underside, circling the crown, sliding down to cradle the weight of me with his mouth. He used his hand too—long, smooth strokes at the base while his mouth worked the rest. I didn’t dare look down at first. Almost as if I didn’t trust myself.

But when I did?

Fuck.

Grayson, his thick dark lashes low over his cheeks, lips stretched wide around me, eyes flicking up just long enough to catch mine. I almost lost it then and there.

"Christ," I whispered, my hands gripping the edge of the bed like I needed it to keep from floating off the mattress.

He pulled off with a slow slurp, lips shiny, breathing a little heavier now. "Turn over," he said, voice low and dark. “I want you to feel all of me.”

I hesitated.

Just for a moment.

But then I did it. Rolled to my side, body open, vulnerable, ready.

He reached for the lube, and I heard the cap flick open. A moment later, his fingers were slick, sliding between my cheeks with slow, steady pressure. He worked one finger in, then two, spreading me gently, patiently, taking his time. My jaw clenched as I adjusted, not from pain—not quite—but from how real this was.

This was happening.

He was going to be inside me.

And I wanted it.

God help me, I wanted it.

I felt him behind me again, his cock sliding between my cheeks, teasing. The tip nudged against me. I braced, breath caught in my throat.

"Easy," he whispered, pressing a kiss behind my ear. "I’ve got you."

And then—slowly, inch by thick inch—he pushed in.

The stretch was intense, a deep, full ache that filled every part of me. I clenched the sheets, exhaling slowly through my nose, trying to stay open, to breathe, to let him in.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice thick with awe. "You’re doing perfect."

His arm slid under me, curling around my chest, holding me against him as he began to move. Short, careful thrusts at first. Then deeper. He kissed the back of my neck again and again, his body flush to mine, his cock sliding inside me with slow, exquisite friction.

My breath caught every time he reached my innermost, his hips pressing flush to my ass.

"You feel so good," he murmured into my skin. "Tight. Warm. Like you were made for this."

I could barely speak. I just let him take me.

Eventually, he shifted, guiding me onto my back, lifting my leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself again, then slid back inside in one long, delicious glide.

Missionary. Face to face.

He braced himself above me, his eyes locked on mine. Every thrust now was deep and smooth, each one sending sparks down my spine, making me arch up into him without thinking.

"You’re incredible," he said, voice rough. "I’ve never felt anything like this."

I reached for him, my fingers digging into his back as he moved inside me, every motion grinding against something deep inside that sent waves through my whole body. My cock, trapped between us, was throbbing against his abs with every thrust, slick from everything we’d done so far.

I was close—so fucking close—but I didn’t want it to end.

Not yet.

Not when he was looking at me like that. Not when I felt like this.

"Grayson—" I gasped, pulling him into a kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist, trying to keep him in, trying to keep the moment from slipping away.

"Let go," he whispered. "Let me see you."

And I did.

I unleashed with a load gasp, my body tensing, spurting across my chest and his stomach in messy, hot streaks. My muscles clenched around him, and that pushed him over too.

He pushed deep—hard—and stayed there, body shaking as he emptied himself inside me, eyes locked on mine the whole time. His mouth parted, brows drawn, jaw slack with intensity.

He collapsed onto me, breath ragged, both of us slick with sweat and everything else. For a long time, neither of us moved.

Eventually, he kissed my cheek and whispered, “You okay?”

I nodded. "I think that might’ve broken something in me," I said, laughing softly. "But in a good way."

His hand slid up my chest, resting over my heart.

“You let me in,” he said. “All of you.”

And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel ashamed of that, to let someone in in more ways than one.

◆◆◆

We’d packed, dressed, and cleaned up the evidence of the night—but it still lingered in the air, thick and warm between us. Something had changed. Not just in my body. Not just in his. In the way we looked at each other. In the quiet.

Grayson grabbed the last of his things and tossed them into the duffel bag. I stood by the dresser, holding my phone but not really looking at it.

“This weekend went nothing like I expected,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

I glanced up. “You mean you didn’t plan on seducing your uncle and fucking him into a hotel mattress?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “I mean, I hoped,” he said, “but… no. Not like this.”

We both laughed softly, but there was an ache in it.

“I’m glad you came,” I said.

He looked up at me, something heavier behind his eyes. “I am too. Not just for… that. But college. The visit. It actually feels real now. Like I can see myself there.”

I nodded slowly. “You’re gonna kill it. You’ve got the focus, the fire. Hockey, academics, life—whatever the hell you want.”

His gaze lingered. “Will you be around? I mean… you come here for work. Will we still see each other?”

“I’ll find reasons to be in town,” I said. No hesitation.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What are we even doing, Chris?”

I paused. “We’re figuring it out.”

“And what about Aunt Emily?” he asked quietly.

I flinched. “That’s the part I don’t have answers for. Not yet.”

He gave a short nod, not pressing. Just… taking it in.

We stood there for a moment, the weight of the real world creeping in through the seams.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said finally. “I know it’s messy. I know it’s probably insane. But I feel more seen with you than I have with anyone.”

I stepped closer. “It’s not just sex.”

“I know,” he said. “And that’s why it scares the shit out of me.”

I reached for his hand, squeezing it. “It scares me too.”

He gave me a little smile. “Good. Then we’re in the same boat.”

◆◆◆

The highway stretched out ahead, a ribbon of gray and sunlight. The city faded away behind us, and the reality of what lay ahead—heading back, pretending everything was normal again—settled like a weight in my chest.

I gripped the steering wheel, trying not to think about it. Grayson sat beside me, his fingers tapping absently on the console, lost in thought.

“You ever think about doing it over?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Life, I mean. Different path, different choices.”

I glanced over at him. “All the time,” I said, my voice low.

He turned his head, studying me for a moment, his eyes searching. “Regret marrying her?”

I hesitated, knowing how hard this was going to sound. “No,” I said. “I loved her. Still do, in a way. But I think I convinced myself that being a good husband meant locking everything else away. I wasn’t honest with myself. About what I wanted. About who I really am.”

Grayson didn’t say anything for a moment. I could see the wheels turning in his head.

“And now?” he asked, quietly, almost hesitantly.

“Now…” I exhaled, eyes on the road. “Now I just want to stop lying. To myself, to everyone. I want to stop pretending I’m someone I’m not. I’m tired of that life.”

We fell into a thoughtful silence. The only sound was the hum of the tires against the asphalt, the soft rhythm of the road beneath us.

Finally, Grayson spoke again. “Do you think we can make this work?”

I glanced at him, eyes drawn to the way his jaw tightened in that quiet, vulnerable way he had. There was something raw and honest in his gaze. Something that reached deeper than just the surface.

“I think we can try,” I said, my voice steady. “And I think you’re worth the risk.”

For a moment, he didn’t smile. He just looked at me, letting the words settle between us. And then his lips curled up at the corners, just slightly. That slow, wicked grin I couldn’t resist.

“Then damn the consequences,” he said.

I squeezed his hand, my grip firm. I wasn’t backing away from this. Not now. Not after everything we’d just shared.

We drove on for a few more miles, the silence between us a little more comfortable, a little less heavy. Then I spotted the signs for a rest stop up ahead. My eyes flicked to Grayson.

“Wanna stop for a minute?” I asked, flicking my turn signal as the rest area came into view.

Grayson glanced over at me, eyebrow arched, that familiar spark already dancing in his eyes. “Are you saying you need a break?” he teased.

I smirked. “I just figured we could take a little detour before heading back. Stretch our legs. You can drive the last bit if you’re up for it.”

He lit up at that—could practically see the thrill run through him at the thought of being behind the wheel again. “Yeah, let’s have a little break… Uncle,” he said, voice dipping lower on the last word.

Then he leaned closer, brushing his fingers along my arm as he added with a sly grin, “And I’ve got a few ideas for what we can do.”

Before I could respond, he was already tugging me out of the car and toward the restrooms—with way too much confidence for someone who’d just thoroughly ruined me a few hours ago.

And damn if I didn’t follow him without a second thought.