Chapter Five - The Winner
CHAPTER FIVE
The Winner
“Well,” Taylor said, running his tongue over his teeth. “It seems we’ve tied.”
I couldn’t argue with him there. There was no way to know who got hard first. “Alright, new rule: whoever touches their dick first loses.”
“You really think your crappy dirty talk can make me touch myself?” Taylor asked.
“What are you calling crappy? Your dick seemed to enjoy it.”
He glared at me. “Shut up.”
“Do you have a better suggestion to figure out the winner?”
He sighed. “Fine, let’s do it your way.” He placed both of his hands onto the couch on either side of him, curling his fingers into the woven linen.
“What was I saying?” I said. “Oh yes. Your cock was down my throat and —”
“No,” Taylor growled, and the animalistic sound shot a jolt of electricity down my body, all the way to the tip of my cock. “You’ve been talking for too long. It’s my turn.”
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the movement.
“You were saying you wouldn’t let me cum.
No, you wouldn’t. Just when I was on the edge, you’d slide my dick out.
You’d be panting, your face all messy. I’d rub my cock on your lips, get them glistening wet, and you’d love it.
And do you know what you’d do next? Do you? ”
I clamped my jaw shut so I wouldn’t be tempted to answer.
“You’d turn around and get on your hands and knees. Presenting that perfect ass to me.”
I forced myself not to let the surprise show on my face. Because that was where I was going in my story. My extremely gay story.
“Oh, did you think I wouldn’t notice how perfect your ass is?
I’ve wanted a piece of it for ages. And you’d finally give it to me.
I’d press myself against your clothed ass — I wouldn’t even touch you skin on skin — and yet you’d let out the most delicious moan I’ve ever heard.
I ask you if you want it, and you’re too gone to answer. So you know what you do instead?”
Pull my shorts down, I thought.
“You pull your shorts down, giving me a view of your cheeks, and that tiny little asshole. And it’s so hot, I almost cum right then. But I stop myself. I’m not going to finish. Not until I’m inside you.”
I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from gasping. Don’t touch yourself, I thought. Don’t, don’t, don’t. I won’t. No way in hell.
“I lean over and stick two fingers in your mouth, and you take them eagerly, licking them up and down and coating them in spit. When you can’t take it anymore, you wiggle your hips, shaking your ass like a whore.
And I know you want it,” Taylor said, voice more breathy than usual.
“And I press my slippery fingers against that tight pucker and slowly, slowly, work them inside.”
“Stop,” I ordered, though it came out more like a groan. “It’s— it’s my turn.”
“Fine,” he said, eyelids lowered. “Go ahead.”
I took a moment to gather my thoughts, and made the mistake of looking at my crotch. There was a wet spot on my boxers. Fuck.
To my relief, Taylor was leaking pre-cum too. Good. He was almost there. All I needed to do was drive him insane, insane enough to touch himself.
I knew I needed to continue the story. Part of me wanted to — to see what would happen next, to get to the climax.
But even though I was muddled with lust, there was still a part of my brain working.
A part of my brain that was conscious enough to understand that we were talking about Taylor fucking me. And worse, me enjoying it.
I was going to win this competition. I had to, of course. But I had standards, and there was no way I was going to talk about Taylor fucking me.
“Hurry up,” Taylor snapped, tearing me from my thoughts.
I blinked at him. “W—what?”
“You’ve been sitting there in silence for the past minute,” he said, jaw tight. “Hurry up and say something.”
“I’m…” I had to swallow, because my throat was dry. “I’m just thinking.”
“How long does it take to think?” he hissed.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
He let out a long-suffering groan, then raised both hands and placed them onto his thighs, digging his fingernails into the skin until it left red crescent-moon marks.
“What are you doing?”
“Calm down,” he gritted out. “I’m not touching my dick, I just…”
He inched his hands towards his inner thighs and let out a soft moan, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it. It didn’t sound like his usual deep voice — no, it was surprisingly high. More than that, it sounded desperate.
My cock swelled, and I leaked some more. God, that moan did things to me. How?
“Archie,” Taylor snapped, and my eyes jerked up to meet his. “Say something, for fuck’s sake. Otherwise, it’s my turn. I want to hurry up and get this over wi— ”
His words died in his throat as I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up to my chin. I used my other hand to rub over my stomach, but my lower belly was too close to my dick, and I snatched my hands away, afraid I’d accidentally burst.
Imagine that, coming hands-free, in front of Taylor. I would have to move to the other side of the world and change my name.
So I slid my hand upwards, and squeezed a nipple with my thumb and forefinger.
He froze.
I pulled my shirt up to my mouth, biting it between my teeth, so both hands were free. Then I started playing with my nipples, which became stiff peaks under my hand. I let out a long breath and as I continued to play with them, my hips rose off the couch.
“What are you doing?” Taylor asked.
I glanced at him. How was I only realising now how flushed his cheeks were? His eyes looked blacker than ever, and his hair was messier than usual, the roots damp with sweat.
As for his hands…they were still on his thighs, but had crept extremely close to his groin. Just a few more inches, and he’d be touching his erection.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Taylor continued. I knew he intended for there to be venom in his voice, but he was too shocked to manage it. “This is a dirty talk competition, not a put on a show competition. Stop being an idiot.”
Yet, as he said that, his eyes were glued to my nipples. His tongue poked out to lick the corner of his bottom lip, giving me a shock of arousal.
I imagined his tongue on my —
Stop it Archie, I told myself. Just finish this game already. You’re almost there.
“I…I could say so much,” I said, voice unsteady. “I know there’s so much you want to do to me. I know you want to lick my nipples. Suck my cock. Take my ass. You want all of that, don’t you?”
Perhaps it was my imagination, but I swear his chin dipped in a nod.
“But there’s something you want even more, isn’t there? Something you’ve been dreaming about, even when you’re not horny. You…” I licked my lips, let out a long moan. He was staring at my open mouth.
“You wish you could kiss me, don’t you?”
Several things happened at once. Taylor let out a long string of curse words and shoved one hand down his briefs.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, beyond the rapid movement of his hand, he came, his thick white seed leaking through his briefs and dripping down onto his thigh.
The sight of that made my brain glitch, and the next thing I knew, I was jerking myself off, staring at Taylor’s soiled briefs, and I came so hard I saw stars.
It took me several minutes to come back to myself. Slowly, I was aware I’d slumped against the couch, my fingers wet, the inside of my boxers sticky. My nipples were sore too, but mostly I felt tired and thirsty.
I lolled my head to the side and saw Taylor was in a similar state to me, staring at the ceiling with a dazed look on his face.
“Hey,” I said.
He looked at me. His gaze flickered to my lips before meeting my eyes.
“Get me a glass of water.”
I expected him to argue, but instead he got up and walked to the kitchen. His movements weren’t robotic exactly, but there was an air about him that suggested he was running on autopilot. A moment later, he returned with my water.
I swallowed it down in a few seconds, then stood up.
Taylor looked at me blankly.
“Well,” I said. “I’m gonna go to sleep. In my bedroom.”
He didn’t react. He didn’t do anything, except stare at me, a faint troubled expression on his face. It was kind of disconcerting.
Whatever. I got the heck out of there, stopping by the bathroom to wash away the remnants of cum on my hands. Inside my bedroom, I closed the door, peeled off my dirty boxers, and changed into my pyjamas.
Then I got into bed and closed my eyes.
I couldn’t sleep. My body felt tired, the way it always did after an orgasm. My bones sank into my mattress and my eyelids felt heavy. But my brain was alive — rewinding every moment of what happened on the couch with Taylor.
How the hell had that happened? No. I didn’t want to think about it.
I pushed it out of my mind, yet I found myself straining to hear what Taylor was doing. There were footsteps, then the rush of the shower. Ten minutes later, he walked to his room and closed the door.