CHAPTER 21 #2
He shifts, and suddenly he's pulling his shirt off, then his sweats, and then he's naked too, his cock hard and flushed, curving slightly up toward his stomach, his hand wrapped around it, stroking in time with mine like we're connected somehow.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," I say, and I mean it. Every lean line of him, every muscle, every inch of skin I want to taste.
"Keep talking. I like your voice."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Tell me what you're thinking about."
I stroke myself again, slower this time, dragging it out. "I'm thinking about how you taste. How you sound when I make you feel good."
"Yeah?" His hand speeds up slightly. "What else?"
"About how I want to touch you. Make you fall apart. I want to—" I stop, the words catching in my throat.
"Want to what?"
"I want to be inside you."
Devon's breath hitches audibly. "Fuck. Say that again."
"I want to fuck you, Devon. Feel you around me. I want to make you come on my cock." The words tumble out of me, articulating a thought so scary it's maddening. But they're true. So fucking true.
"Jesus Christ, Ace." His strokes are faster now, more desperate. "You're killing me."
"Good."
We stroke ourselves in silence for a moment, just watching each other, and the intimacy of it is staggering. Him in his bed, me in this anonymous hotel room, connected by nothing but a screen and want.
"I wish you were here," Devon says quietly. "Wish I could taste you right now."
A soft moan escapes me as I imagine his lips wrapped around my cock, the thought of him wet and sloppy. My hand moves faster, chasing the pleasure building in my gut. "What would you want me to do?"
"I want to feel you inside me. Fuck me so hard I can't think. I want—" He cuts himself off with a moan, his head falling back against the pillows.
"Want what? Tell me," I demand.
"I want you to ruin me for anyone else."
The words hit me like a blow. My cock throbs in my hand, leaking abundantly now, and I'm so close already, teetering on the edge.
"Show me my point of view."
I blink, his words making little sense as I jerk myself faster. "What?"
"My POV, not yours," he breathes. "Bring your phone down. Right where my face would be."
My heart momentarily stops, along with the movement of my hand. "You serious?"
He bites his lower lip, baring his teeth as he bucks his hips up, fucking into his fist. Then, "Do I look like I'm fucking joking?"
I swallow hard. This is… God, it's a lot, but I'm so fucking turned on it outweighs whatever self-conscious thoughts try to rise to the surface.
I get up to my knees, prop my phone against the pillows, and pivot the other way, laying back down so that the phone camera points directly at my balls and the underside of my cock between my spread thighs.
This is it. I've gone crazy. This is what crazy feels like.
And it feels so fucking good.
"Like this?" I ask.
Devon makes this strangled sound. "Fuck, that's hot."
Emboldened, I spit into my palm for some extra glide and wrap it around my cock again. "You like that?"
"I do," he half-says, half-moans, his words clipped. "I like that a lot."
I stroke myself faster, the new angle adding something to the experience I never thought possible, making everything more intense.
"God, your cock," Devon breathes. "I want it so bad. I want you so deep I can't think straight."
"Devon…"
He keeps talking. "I want to ride you until neither of us can move. I want you to fuck me until I forget my own name."
My hand is flying now, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. I'm so close, so fucking close, and Devon's words are pushing me right to the edge.
"Ace," he gasps. "I'm gonna—I need—"
"What do you need?"
"Need more. Need—fuck—be right back."
"What? No. Wait—"
But he's already lifting off the mattress, getting out of the screen, and I'm left staring at an empty frame, my cock in my hand, so worked up I might actually die. "I'm going to kill you."
"One second!" His voice comes from off-screen. "Trust me."
I do trust him, but that doesn't make waiting any easier. My cock is throbbing, demanding attention, and I stroke myself slowly, trying not to come before he gets back.
Then he reappears in frame, and he's holding a bottle of lube, and—
Is that—?
"Oh my God," I breathe.
Devon grins at the camera, absolutely shameless. "Told you to trust me."
He settles back on the bed, this time propping the phone up against what looks like his headboard so both his hands are free. The angle is perfect—I can see all of him, spread out on display.
"Watch," he says, and pours lube over a black, shiny dildo.
It's small, nowhere near my size, but watching him slick it up, watching his hand move over it with purpose, makes my cock jerk in my grip.
"This is what I've been doing," he says, bringing the dildo between his legs. "Every night since you left. Fucking myself and imagining it's you."
He circles his hole with the tip, teasing himself, and his cock twitches.
"Fucking hell, Devon."
"Want it to be you so bad." He pushes it in slowly, his mouth falling open, eyes fluttering closed. "Want your cock instead of this. Want you stretching me open. Want—oh fuck—"
He's working the dildo deeper now, and I'm stroking myself faster, physically unable to look away. The sight of him taking it, the sounds he's making, the way his free hand comes up to twist his nipple…Fuuuck.
"That's it," I hear myself saying. "Take it. Show me how you'd take me."
"It's not enough," he gasps. "Not big enough. Not you."
"Pretend it's me. Pretend I'm there. Pretend I'm the one inside you."
"Fuck, Ace."
He starts moving the dildo faster, fucking himself with it, and his cock is leaking steadily now, untouched, just from the stimulation inside him.
"You're so fucking hot," I manage. "So beautiful like this."
He lets out the longest moan I've ever heard, his back arching off the bed.
I'm close. So fucking close. My hand is moving in a blur, my cock throbbing, my balls drawing up tight.
Then Devon shifts.
He rolls onto his stomach, the dildo still inside him, and moves the phone so that it's close to his face. His beautiful, flushed face, eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, mouth open and gasping.
"Watch," he breathes.
Like I could ever look away.
There's a click, and the dildo starts vibrating.
Devon's expression goes slack, his eyes rolling back, and he starts grinding against the mattress. He's fucking himself on the vibrating toy while humping the bed, and I can see everything—the pleasure written across his face, the way his mouth forms silent words, the way his whole body moves.
"Oh fuck," he moans. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—"
His face. I can't stop staring at his face. The way pleasure transforms him, makes him vulnerable and powerful at the same time. The way his eyes squeeze shut, then fly open to look straight at the camera. At me. Like he needs me to see this.
"Ace," he gasps. "I'm—fuck—I'm so close—"
That's it. That's all I can take.
I come with a groan, cum spilling over my fist, onto my stomach, my cock pulsing over and over as I watch Devon's face contort with pleasure.
"Yes," he breathes. "Yes, fuck, yes—"
And then he's coming too, his whole body going rigid, his face a perfect picture of ecstasy, grinding desperately against the mattress as his orgasm tears through him.
We lie there motionless for a long moment, breathing hard, coming down from the high.
Devon's face is still close to the camera, flushed and sweaty and satisfied, and he's grinning.
"So, anyway." The sudden casual tone he's somehow summoned makes me burst out laughing. "When are you coming home?"
"Tomorrow."
"Good." His grin widens. "That's very fucking good."
And with that, he gives me a wicked wink and ends the call.
I let out a satisfied sigh, my lips still curled into a smile.
I've never missed Chicago as much as I do right now.