Xander #4
His hand closed around the base of my cock and he shoved the other under my shirt, running up to my chest and down again, his nails scraping lightly along the skin.
It wasn’t just arousal, or simply being horny.
That’s what he had been feeling in the shower that first time, probably, but it was something else.
It was…appreciation. It was as though he were soaking up every last inch of skin, every last sensation.
Was it to store away for the supposed ‘other time’, or was he soaking it up in case it never happened again?
I didn’t have an answer if he were to ask me if there was another time.
Mostly because I didn’t have one, but also he was leaning forward and my stomach tightened in anticipation as he brought his mouth over the head of my dick and sucked gently.
I gasped as he continued to suck, and I had to fight the surge of pleasure that was so strong it was nearly overwhelming, painful even.
The low light cast long shadows, but I could still see the way his mouth slid down me perfectly.
His lips stretched over my girth as he slid further, and my eyes widened when I watched him inch forward.
I felt the grip around the head of my cock tighten when it hit the back of his mouth and the welcome heat of his throat.
I didn’t care that a low groan slipped from me when he continued, without the slightest care in the world that my cock was filling his throat.
I watched, hypnotized as the last of my shaft disappeared, his nose pressing against my waist and I realized that even if it had been a fevered thought earlier, there was some merit to the idea that he could take whatever I wanted to dish out.
Then again, that was probably another lust-fevered thought considering my cock was currently lodged in his throat.
God, his throat.
Except that thought barely had the strength it would have if I was even remotely close to thinking clearly, because his fingers were digging into my thigh as he pulled back and slid forward again, taking me from head to base in one smooth, slow motion.
I realized he had to be doing some sort of stretching exercise as he slowly picked up the pace, one of his hands creeping under me to gently cup my balls and make me grunt.
Reaching down with one hand, the other too busy clutching my knee, I grabbed the side of his head when I felt his throat flex around what felt like my whole dick.
Pleasure rippled through me, warping my thoughts, and I pulled him closer, practically smashing his nose against my body as I held him there.
His throat worked, milking more pleasure out of me.
“I thought you might be less annoying when you shut the fuck up,” I said as I held him there, his eyes meeting mine. “Didn’t know you’d look so good doing it, though.”
His groan rumbled up my shaft, and another layer of pleasure was added…
and gave me an idea. After all, it felt like he had been goading me, taunting me, trying to make me realize he wasn’t some frail little thing that couldn’t handle what I did.
He wanted me to boss him around, and he seemed to enjoy the manhandling I’d done so far. Maybe I might get away with doing more.
Keeping my grip on his head, I pulled him back so only the head of my dick was between his lips before bringing him down onto my cock, all the way down.
A growl escaped me as I realized that yes, he could take it with ease.
Also, his hand had slid off my thigh and was between his legs, fisting his cock as I used the grip I had around his face to pleasure myself.
Apparently, I’d found the one instance where I could actually have some authority over him.
Yet, it was also permission, and I took that permission and ran with it.
It was like jerking off, but using someone else’s mouth and throat with my hand.
I must have been pulling his hair as I jerked him back and forth over my cock, but not once did he move to stop me or indicate that he wanted me to ease off.
It was what I needed to keep going, to pick up the pace even, not caring that it was driving me toward the edge so fast I was going to rocket over it.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my stomach tightening, legs going taut as the pleasure built up pressure inside me and I was going to burst any minute. “Straight down your throat, you hear me? I’m gonna come, and you’re getting every last bit of it, ya hear?”
He heard alright; his eyes were burning with the same fire that roiled in my gut. It made sense that a man who had swallowed my dick like some perverse magic trick wouldn’t be opposed to swallowing, but the way his eyes lit up only shoved me that last half step over the edge.
With a noise closer to a snarl, I brought his head down into my lap again, burying myself as deep as I could.
Pleasure I hadn’t experienced in ages bowled over me as I came, his throat so tight around my shaft I’d swear I could feel each pulse.
A curse was on my lips, but there was no breath to give it life, and I shivered as he groaned heavily, the sound muffled by my cock; the reverberation making me squirm as I felt warmth splatter my leg.
“Fuck,” I finally managed after a heaving inhale. “Yeah, come for me, that’s right.”
Then I had to let him go, and I wasn’t surprised that the first thing he did was take a deep breath, his eyes watering, his pale face flushed, lips swollen and wet with spit. Even drained of every bit of sexual energy I possessed, the sight still drove a sharp prick of heat back into my gut.
“That was…” he said, focused on getting his breath back.
“Fucking stupid,” I said through gritted teeth. “Real fucking stupid.”
“Well, I was going to go with fun followed by incredibly hot, but I suppose it could be fucking stupid too,” he said with a chuckle and I was forced to look at anything but him kneeling on the ground, my cum inside him, his cum on his dick and my leg, looking like I was the most interesting thing in the whole world.
“But, uh, can I give you a little advice?”
My eyes snapped right back to him, bracing for whatever stupid shit was about to come out of his mouth. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“It’s the advice I’m going to be following myself, so—”
“What?”
“You know how you shouldn’t grocery shop when hungry? Or make decisions when you’re pissed or upset?”
“I…sure, yeah, whatever. What about it?”
“Don’t make any decisions when you’re hit by post-nut clarity either.”
I stared at him. “Post…what the fuck is that?”
“You know, that moment after you get off after doing something that might have been a little stupid but a lot of fun? All that regret and worry? Don’t, uh, don’t decide anything while you’re feeling like that,” he said with a shrug.
I snatched my pants off the floor and busied myself getting dressed. “Have you ever felt regret after being a horny idiot in your life?”
“Yeah,” he said in a quiet voice. “I was once an in-the-closet teenager, scared of the feelings I had for other guys. Didn’t stop me thinking about them though.
Or thinking about them when I was getting off.
And for far longer than I should have, every time I got off, I felt that way.
Actually, I felt a lot worse than ‘post-nut clarity’ makes it sound.
Because I wasn’t actually feeling clarity.
I was feeling regret, guilt, and a whole lot of self-hate because of something that didn’t require any of those emotions. So yeah, Xander, I have.”
God, I hated when people found the perfect way to take the wind out of my furious sails.
“I’m gonna go,” he said as he yanked his clothes back on. “I have a hot shower I still need to take, and sleep that is long overdue after today. When you figure out what you actually wanted to say to me tonight, find me. Otherwise? Good night.”
I watched him go, my heart tripping nervously over itself. “About…tonight.”
“What did I say?”
“No, I mean…the guys.”
His expression went flat. “You know, I’m beginning to think you don’t trust me, Xander.
Although I’ve given you no reason to believe otherwise.
I’ve been cooperative, capable, professional, and more tolerant of your shitty attitude than a lot of people.
In fact, I’m a goddamn great candidate for this job at this exact location considering the circumstances.
And on top of that, I’m damn good at giving head. ”
I blinked. “Not exactly lacking in pride.”
“It’s all the truth; I don’t care if that’s arrogant,” he said, opening the door. “So maybe think about how you can be a grumpy asshole without treating me like shit.”
“Or?” I had to ask.
“Or…you’ll find out,” he said with a shrug, and the door closed.
“Arrogant prick,” I muttered, but even I could hear there wasn’t a whole lot of anger in my voice.
He might have had some good points I should consider. Not the head thing.
Well, maybe the head thing.
“Fuck my life,” I muttered, snagging the half-empty bottle of whiskey. I was going to need its companionship for a while longer.