Chapter 12 #3
“Fuck,” he breaths, pausing for a second and then clicking away frantically as I lower my hand and fist my cock. I run my fingers up and down lightly and then grip it more firmly. My eyes slide closed at the bolt of pleasure that runs down my spine.
“Look at me, please.” My eyes spring open at the quiet command. “That’s better,” he says. “I want to see those pretty eyes of yours.”
He clicks away, and I widen my legs, raising them and resting my feet on the mattress. I cup my balls with one hand while still jerking off with the other. I’m trying to keep my eyes open and largely managing it. Besides, he’s far too interesting to not observe.
His face is flushed, his mouth a little slack as he kneels between my legs, the camera pointing down at me. He makes a small sound of disappointment when I let go of my cock. “What are you doing?”
“I’m finding this rather uncomfortable.” He immediately lowers the camera, and I realise that it didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. “I mean, I foresee a potential visual problem for me.”
“You want to stop?”
I wave my hand at my cock bobbing against my stomach. “Does this look like I want to stop?”
He smiles. “So, what’s up? I don’t usually have these problems with my other models.”
“Do you do this with everyone?”
He starts to laugh. “No, of course I fucking don’t. I’m a war photographer. My subjects are usually running far too fast to get their kit off.”
I grin at him, appeased, and tuck away my outrage. “Well, I don’t think I could run with this erection anyway.”
“It would be rather difficult,” he says wryly. “So, what is your problem?”
“Ah, I’m naked, and you’re not. Doesn’t seem fair to me.”
“And we all know what an arbiter of equity and even-handedness you are.”
“I think I might be offended if I understood all of those long words. So, to make me feel better, I think you should get naked too.”
His eyes flare as hot as the sun. “And you’d like that?”
I nod, widening my legs in an obscene sprawl. His gaze drops down to my balls, and his fingers twitch as if he wants to touch. He sets his camera neatly down on the table.
“Well, you know how I live to see you happy. Okay,” he says.
“Really?”
He checks in the act of taking off his shirt. “Isn’t that what you want?”
I shrug. “Well, I thought you might be a little stuffy.” His eyes narrow. “I mean, I thought you might be a bit sensible about things.”
“You might have used two words, but you meant them the same way.”
“What are you? A walking thesaurus?” I kick his knee gently. “Come on. Get your clothes off.”
I watch eagerly as he stands up and strips off his clothing. I keep a tight hold on my dick. I’m already closer to coming than I’d like to be, and I want to make it last. It’s really hot to have his whole attention, and it’s going to my head like a litre of scrumpy cider.
He climbs back on the bed, and I admire his long body, those wide shoulders and his tight abs.
His hair is ruffled, falling over his forehead and giving him a boyish appearance.
He settles at the end of the bed with a direct view between my legs.
He nods at my hand that’s gone slack around myself.
“Shall we get on?” His casual tone is slightly let down by the erection he’s sporting.
“You sweet-talking devil, you.”
He chuckles, but it dies as I fist my cock.
This time I don’t tease. I adjust my grip until it’s tight the way I prefer, with my hand rubbing over the head of my cock before shuttling down its length.
With my other hand, I play with my balls, squeezing them gently.
It makes my belly feel squirmy, and I wriggle, arching into my grip.
I’m dimly aware of the camera clicking, but my attention has shifted to my need to come.
I leave my balls and touch my nipple ring, pulling at it until the nipple stretches out.
He sucks in a startled breath and then leans over me, taking a close-up photo.
This close, I can smell the tang of sandalwood mingling with clean sweat.
His cock is hard and angry looking, reaching to his belly button, but he doesn’t make a move to touch himself, his whole focus on me.
I let my nipple go when the pleasure gets too much, and he settles back on his heels, still clicking away. I reach down and trace my finger over my perineum. When I get to my hole, I stroke gently over it, letting the moan catch at my throat.
“Do you want some lube?” he asks.
I nod, and he reaches into the bedside table for the bottle. “Hold out your hand.”
I raise my hand obediently, and with one hand, he squeezes the bottle. A spiral of lube oozes onto my fingers and glistens in the sunlight. He snaps a picture of the action with his other hand.
He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed and comes closer, running his hand down my body, still clicking away as we both watch his hand trace my abs, circle my belly button, and pause at the puddle of precome on my stomach. He runs his finger through it and then raises it to his lips.
“Delicious,” he whispers, his full lips sucking his finger and making me shudder.
I kick his leg. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be touching me. You have another job, Cameraman.”
He shoots me a wild-looking grin and retreats back to the end of the bed. He widens his legs and fists himself, shuttling his cock through a tight grip.
I rub lube on my fingers before inserting one into myself.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.”
I can’t find any words. Instead, I moan and arch up as my finger brushes my prostate. It isn’t as good as when he does it, but it’s almost as hot because he’s watching me with a single-minded focus and the ever-present click and whirr of the camera.
“Another,” he says hoarsely.
I scramble to obey, pushing two fingers into my hole, while stroking my cock with my other hand.
He reaches out to grab his camera and leans close, his hair touching my thigh as he takes picture after picture.
I imagine how I look stuffed and wide open, and the thought is almost too much.
I grind down on my fingers, feeling the telltale tingling in my balls.
I give a high moan, and he sits back. “Tell me when you’re going to come,” he orders.
“Now,” I manage to get out and feverishly tug on myself while riding my fingers. I grind down hard, feeling the bite of pain. His eyes are hot on me and look desperate and needy, and I’m suddenly there. My balls draw up, and I shout out his name as I arch and come onto my belly.
He hovers over me, taking picture after picture, his breathing heavy and frantic.
When I subside into the sheets, I remove my fingers and hold them out to him. He tosses his camera onto the bed and seizes my hand, taking the fingers into his mouth and sucking hard. The tug and pull is too much, and I shiver and come a little more in a startled little spasm.
“Yes,” he groans, and still sucking my fingers, he starts to stroke himself.
“Can I come on you?” he asks, and I nod frantically, widening my legs so he can come even closer.
It only takes two strokes, and he stripes my torso and belly with come, the liquid hot and feeling like it might scald my skin.
Then he collapses into the sheets next to me. I grab his camera and take a couple of shots of my come-covered belly. Setting it back on the bed, I edge closer and snuggle into him.
The room is full of our gulps of air, and I nestle into him as he strokes my hair. Then I laugh. “Fucking hell. That was epic,” I proclaim. “You have the best ideas.”
“I really don’t.”
I laugh, and he reaches for his phone, holding it over us. I look up at it, still laughing as he takes a picture.
“That’s just for me,” he says, and I feel a deep thrill that he’ll remember me because of that photo, even if he doesn’t for any other reason.
Maybe he’ll think back on this day in years to come.
I’ll always remain youthful in his eyes, and there’s not much wrong with that.
I throw my arm over his chest and kiss his cheek, nestling into his face.
“Take another one,” I say against his cheek and smile when I hear the click.
He sets the phone on the bedside table and then sighs. The sound is weary, and I look up at him and groan. “Oh no. Are we at the fuck around and mope stage?”
He groans. “Please stop calling it that.”
“Well, it is a bit tedious.” I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The sweat on my body is suddenly cold. “Chill out. You go away tomorrow, and then you’ll forget all about little old me.”
I hear the peevishness in my voice even as he laughs, and my lips twitch to stop myself smiling. He drags me close. “I could never forget you,” he says softly. “I hope you look back on this time with fondness, although that sounds unduly optimistic.”
“It does if you’re saying it.” He digs a finger into my hip, and I yelp. “No, don’t tickle.” He stops, and I snuggle into him again and run my fingers over his chest, curling the hair there around my finger.
“Have you ever fucked Jez?” I ask idly.
He jumps like he’s been cattle prodded. “What the hell? No, of course not.”
I sneak a glance at him and start to laugh at his outraged expression. “It was just a question.”
He huffs. “Sometimes I want to know what’s in your head, and at other times I bless the good lord that I’ll never know. Fuck Jez? What the hell?”
“It’s a logical question. He’s abnormally attached to you.”
“He isn’t. Don’t be ridiculous.”
I raise my head off his chest. “I’m not being ridiculous. You should be careful around him, Reuben. His attachment to you isn’t helpful, if you ask me.”
“Nobody did,” he snaps. The words are like a slap and completely unexpected coming from him. I can’t help my recoil, and he immediately makes a soft, sad noise and drags me closer. “No, don’t go. I’m sorry.”
I stare at him and then make my body relax. “I’m just speaking as an outsider.”
“I’m sorry you’re that.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“What?”