Chapter 20
Tommy
I’m crying. Sobbing, really, despite finally getting exactly what I wanted, what I needed, and feeling better than I have in a long time.
My limbs feel weak and my head is spinning, and I can’t tell if it’s the drug or the release of so much built-up pressure.
Probably both. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life.
And now I’m crying against Young-gi’s jeans, my face tucked against his leg.
And thinking about it makes me realize how ridiculous this all is, how ridiculous I’m being, so I start laughing.
Giggles suffuse through me, make me feel even weaker, and I sprawl across the back seat of the car, half on Young-gi’s lap, and laugh until my stomach hurts.
I laugh until the tear tracks on my face are from humor instead of whatever mess I was feeling before.
Tingles sizzle along my nerve endings and I squirm against the soft leather of the seat, against the fabric of my clothes, against the warmth of Young-gi’s body under my shoulders and my head. His hand pets through my thick hair, he gently scratches my scalp, and I shiver with a loose groan.
“Feels good,” I manage, grabbing his hand and holding it there, even though he wasn’t pulling away. “So good. God, I needed this. I’ve been ready to explode for days. Ha, explode. I don’t mean that like, to cum, but, also, I kinda do.”
I crack another laugh and sigh. I stare up at him, fascinated by how gorgeous he is.
His eyes are dark and unreadable, like always.
Tension simmers between us and I squirm some more, unable to sit still.
The quiet car is so unlike the throbbing noise in the club.
Here, I feel like we’re the only two people in the world–the only ones that matter.
I’d do anything for him, and while part of me knows that’s insane and I should just chill out, I can’t muster the energy or anxiety to care.
And I feel so fucking good.
“Young-gi, touch me,” I beg. “Take my clothes off, let me–”
“No.” He doesn’t even let me finish. I pout, but he frees his hand from my hold and runs his thumb along my lips until I stop scowling at him.
“Why not?” I ask, sucking his thumb into my mouth.
“Because you didn’t ask before you got high,” he murmurs, letting me capture his finger with my lips, staring at them like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
“You asked to get off, you asked to be touched over your clothes, to dance, for me to help you cum. You didn’t ask for anything else, so we’re not going there. ”
I make a sad sound of disappointment around his thumb, but don’t protest too hard.
I’m feeling so fucking good, I don’t think anything could bring me down.
My lips tingle around his finger, and I recall the way he corrected me for my lies, the way he looked in my mouth, the way he made me stick my tongue out, the way he essentially gagged me from lying with his fingers.
Hot as fuck. Embarrassing, almost belittling. But fuck, it hit me just right.
He pulls his thumb away so he can go back to petting my hair.
I shudder, and my eyes slide shut. I’m humming tunelessly, just a soft sound of my satisfaction.
My shoulders are so unused to being relaxed that they almost ache from lack of tension.
It’s weird, and I laugh again, a short sound of tired amusement. A jaw-cracking yawn comes next.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m sooo good,” I slur the words, blinking up at him. “So good. Better than ever. Warm, I feel so warm.” Then I squirm a little more and make a face. “Kinda sticky, though.”
Without thinking too hard about it, I reach down and try to pull my cum-soaked pants off. Young-gi’s hands are on mine in a flash, stopping me.
“No,” he says sternly, and I shiver. He sighs when I just stare up at him, my whole world feeling soft and good and free and easy. “I’ll get you a napkin or something, but you’re not getting naked.”
“A napkin from where?” I ask, and break down in laughter a second time. The thought of him going back into the club to ask for a napkin so I can wipe the cum out of my jock strap is hilarious to me.
His big hands slide down my chest and I groan, my laughter replaced with breathless tension.
The dim car feels intimate, sensual. I roll over and push myself up so I can crawl into his lap and bury my head against his shoulder.
Nothing is scary, nothing hurts or makes me feel sad.
I just feel good. Nothing is stopping me from just doing whatever I want.
“Young-gi,” I sigh, pressing a kiss to his neck. “D–oh wait, no, I’m not supposed to call you that.” I chuckle and let myself start sliding down to the floor of the car. “I wish I could feel like this all the time.”
My reluctant, mysterious savior/the guy who just made me cum my brains out yanks me back up while fishing a phone from his pocket.
When he presses it against his ear, I smoosh my face against the other side of it, wanting to hear the whole conversation.
He huffs in amusement, or maybe annoyance, or both, but doesn’t stop me.
“Pakhan?” Yosef’s voice comes through the phone.
“Yosef!” I croon. “Duuuude!”
“Come drive us home,” Young-gi commands. “And get me some fucking napkins.”
A pause. “Y-yes, sir.”
That. Is. Hysterical.
I melt against him, laughing my ass off, until I run out of air and end up gasping for breath.
“You feel good, Tommy?” His deep voice vibrates through me and I groan. “Did you like what I did?”
“Yeah,” I confirm with a smile. He smiles back at me, and I think something inside me is literally glowing. I feel like I’m lit up from within. “So good. Thanks. Best ever. So toppy. Dirty hot, love that shit. Not like Bruce at all. Wait, shit, not supposed to talk about him.”
He pauses. “Tell me about Bruce.”
“Ooooooh,” I look up at him, and he’s so fucking intense and scary and I love it so much. My neck goes weak and I lay my forehead against his shoulder with a happy sigh. “Sexy. A threat? Hot. Tell me what you’d do to him if I said he hurt me or some shit.”
“Tommy.” My name is a stern warning, and I moan and grip my half-hard cock between us. The sensation of my hand on it is like fireworks and it completely derails my focus.
“Whoa, holy shit.” I rub it through my pants, grinding against him, and my eyes roll back. “I’m already almost hard again. Fuck, I feel so good, I can’t even think straight. Fuck, Da–mph, haha, not supposed to call you that.”
“I think you might be higher than I thought.”
“Nah,” I deny, even as he pulls my head out of the crook of his shoulder so he can inspect my pupils, and puts fingers on my throat to check my pulse.
“I know this feeling. Molly makes me talkative. I’m not out of it, I just lost my filter.
No disruption between my head and my mouth.
I’m just really Tommy right now, you know? ”
“What does that mean?”
“Just Tommy,” I shrug.
A long silence stretches between us.
“You’re so interesting,” I say, proving that I’ve got no filter.
“I could look at you all day. I love it when you look at me, I think. Maybe I hate it. It’s a lot.
Nobody’s ever really looked at me like that before.
Not even Bruce. Shit, wait, I’m not trying to talk about him right now, ya know?
” I giggle. “Can’t seem to stop, though.
You guys are so different, but something about you is the same.
It’s the–well, alright, I’ve got to keep that quiet.
Not trying to talk about that. That’s personal.
More personal than letting you help me cum?
Eh, maybe not, but–” He puts his hand over my mouth, stopping my word vomit.
“Who was Bruce to you?” he asks darkly, getting back on track. He releases my mouth so I can speak.
“Not telling,” I comment with a lazy grin, watching him through half-closed eyes as I crawl off him and lay back down, putting my head in his lap.
With my legs spread as much as they can go in the tight confines of the car, I press my palm against my cock through my jeans and writhe against my palm.
“Fuuuck, I love taking Molly. Feels so good, so easy. Doesn’t hurt at all. ”
“Do you take it often?” He sounds distracted, and I look up at him to see that he’s watching, unblinking, as I spread my legs and do my damndest to get myself off again through my pants. His lips part, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he wants me as much as I want him.
“Nah,” I huff out a laugh between my tight moans.
“Just when I really need to get off. Can’t do it sober, even when I’m dying for it.
You’ve been fucking killing me, Young-gi.
Can’t stop fucking thinking about you.” I roll onto my side and press my face against his crotch, and he pushes me roughly onto my back again.
“Stop,” he commands.
“Your dick is hard. Let me suck on it, I want to suck it so bad, been wanting to suck you off since I first met you, goddamn.”
“Tommy, don’t push me, or I’ll gag you.”
“Gag me on your cock. Okay, okay, wait!” I squirm away as he presses his palm against my mouth again, and I scramble to the other side of the seat. “Fine, fine! I’ll be good, alright? Geez.”
I pout there for a minute, but right as I’m about to cave and crawl back over to him, the driver door opens and I squeak in alarm.
But it’s Yosef, and he keeps a stoic expression on his face as he hands a wad of napkins to Young-gi before buckling himself into the driver’s seat.
“Here,” Young-gi holds them out to me. I lay myself right back down on his lap and put my hands under my spine, looking up at him teasingly.
“Go right ahead,” I say sweetly.
“Tommy.”