Chapter 7 #2
I feel his breathing go shallow, but the trembling in him gets more controlled.
He’s working. He’s holding it back. He’s doing something really hard, and making it look like nothing.
That takes more discipline than anything I’ve ever done, and I do my work on machine learning architectures while baked, so.
His sweats are in the way of another big and juicy thing.
I don’t like them. I fumble with the drawstrings for what might be thirty seconds or three hours.
I genuinely can’t tell. My hands feel like they belong to someone else, all heavy and dumb.
Eventually, I untie the knot and get his pants down.
I look at him.
He’s rock hard. Flushed and pretty. Way too pretty. Kit leaks a lot, and the bead on his tip is catching the light… uh, prettily. It looks a little—I don’t know… delicious? It makes my mouth water.
Kit is pretty.
“You’re so good at this,” I breathe.
I mean it, because it’s one of those stoned truths that bypasses the filter and comes out true. He is so good at this. He is the fucking best at this. It blows my mind.
I don’t have adequate words for what it does to me that he can be in a room full of chaos and just opt out of existing for a while. Just become a thing. Just become my thing.
My good, pretty doll.
I spit in my palm, and get my hand around his dick. Stroke him once, feeling the way the slick spreads over the hot skin. Feeling the way his hips do this tiny hitch again, a tiny tremor that travels up through his whole body, and dies before it becomes anything.
I stop.
He goes back to being perfectly still.
I drag my palm back, use what’s on it to slick myself up. I’m already so far gone that even just my own hand on myself makes my head drop forward. I’m harder than I’ve been in recent memory. I need—I just need—
I line up with his hole. Push forward.
And immediately go nowhere.
I try again. Same result—his body just quietly and completely locking me out. I pull back and stare down at him. He’s perfectly still, perfectly blank, staring at the ceiling.
Completely unbothered that I just tried to ram into him dry like a total idiot.
“Right. Right, okay. You’re a doll, not a—” I lose the thought. “You don’t come pre—” Gone. My brain is literal soup. I put my hand over my face for a second.
My doll is not self-lubricating. That’s a reasonable thing I should have remembered before trying to raw-dog him on a dirty floor.
I get my fingers wet with a ton of spit and reach down, pushing one in slowly. His breath catches, and I watch his face stay neutral while his ass swallows my finger. It’s so hot. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I add a second one. Work them slowly, stretching that tight hole open.
“There,” I breathe when I feel him ease up around my knuckles. “There, okay, that’s—”
I add more spit. I finger-fuck him for a while—maybe a long while, because time is completely fake right now. The squelching sound is loud, but I don’t care. I think I kind of want the room to hear it.
He’s trembling again, that deep internal shake. I press my forehead to his chest just to feel it. The stillness on top, the shaking underneath. The sound of his heartbeat.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Then I line up again.
And this time I sink in, my cock sliding deep into the wet heat, buried all the way and not moving.
His body is warm. He’s so fucking warm.
My brain, at whatever percent it’s currently at, thinks: This is the peak of human existence.
I start to move.
Slow, because slow is what I have right now, because my hips are operating on a slight delay between intention and action. Long rolls, grinding down, savoring the heat and the tight grip of his ass. Every time I pull back, his hole tries to suck me back in.
“Fuck,” I say into his chest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The words come out rhythmic, spaced with my hips. “You feel—how do you always feel so fucking good?”
I lift my head, and look at his face.
He looks like something designed. He looks like someone’s very specific idea of a perfect thing.
So pretty, my Kit.
I keep moving.
It’s not quiet enough, probably.
The sounds getting pulled out of me are loud and dirty, but the couple on the couch is somehow still going, and they’re loud and dirty too, so I guess it’s fine. Everyone’s on their own trip anyway.
I drop back down, press my face into the side of Kit’s neck, feeling his pulse under my lips. His pulse is fast. Really fast. He’s here, he’s present, he’s just not letting me see it. Giving me his entire body, and keeping everything else locked away.
That’s such a Kit thing to do. That’s just so classic Kit.
I get a hand between us, wrap my fingers around his leaking dick, stroking him slowly while I fuck him. My coordination is trash right now, so it’s uneven and sloppy, but I don’t think he minds. I don’t think he minds anything.
“Hell yeah! Go at it, my gay dudes.”
I freeze.
Every muscle in my body stops. I’m buried to the hilt inside Kit, and a guy—someone I’ve definitely seen in the CS department—is walking past us, nodding, throwing me a thumbs-up with genuine, baked approval before he continues on his way into the kitchen.
I stay completely still.
Kit stays completely still.
We are two frozen objects on the floor of a trap house.
I hear the guy open the fridge. Get something. Close it. The couple on the couch hasn’t looked over. The girl on the beanbag shifts, rolls, and keeps sleeping. The guy with the cup still hasn’t spilled it.
I let out a breath that takes about ten seconds to fully leave my body.
Then I start moving again. Harder this time. Faster. Deeper.
“God,” I breathe into the fabric of his hoodie.
I get my teeth into it, biting down on the cloth over his shoulder.
I need something to bite because the moan that wants to rip out of me is way too loud for this room—I know that now.
My hips move faster. I can’t help it. The slow grind was never going to last. Not when it feels this insane.
His pulse is hammering.
I feel him shaking. A full-body tremor this time.
Perfectly still on the outside. Shaking violently on the inside. Coming all over his own stomach.
Fucking God.
It pushes me right over the edge.
I blow my load with my face pressed into his neck, my teeth buried in his hoodie, my hand around his cock and my elbow planted on the floor on the side of his head to keep from collapsing. I hear myself make a pathetic noise.
My dick throbs, pumping hot and thick deep into his ass.
The party goes on around us.