Chapter 7 - Catch
Catch
"Be still for me," Dylan whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Ashton's leaking cock.
It left him shivering first in anticipation, then pure, electric lust as Dylan licked at the wet spot Ashton's pre-cum had left covering those lips.
Gently, almost tenderly, Dylan tongued at the crown of Ashton's cock; swirling slickly around and over the slit before taking his entire head into that mouth.
"Ohhhhh," Ashton sighed, his head dropping at the infinite delight that was Dylan's mouth, sucking at him gently.
He moaned again, louder this time as Dylan dropped the gentleness and began to really get into it. Soon he was bobbing his head, taking him deeper and deeper into that warm, wet wonder; as if he was truly enjoying every inch he swallowed up.
"Oh, God," Ashton panted, shock putting more whine than words into the sound. "Dylan."
Desperately, Ashton clutched at him; holding on for dear life. Forget that night with the closet at the party. This was heaven.
Ashton had gotten blow jobs before, but this?
This was a whole other level. There was none of the hesitation, the ambivalence, the frustratingly academic curiosity.
No mercy either. Just a hot, hungry mouth intent on sucking his brains out through his cock.
A goal which Ashton heartily, enthusiastically, supported.
It was good.
So good.
Too good.
"I'm gonna— " Ashton gasped out with what little air remained in his lungs.
Dylan pulled off him, glaring up at Ashton warningly.
"Oh hell no, mi fresa," he growled, the rasp in his voice nearly sending Ashton over the edge right then and there. "I'm just getting started with you."
Hng.
Licking his lips, Ashton's throat bobbed as he eyed Dylan, that –
Threat? Promise?
— stealing away his words.
"Spread your legs," Dylan ordered.
But Ashton hesitated, fear icing down his spine for what Dylan might do next.
What would it be like?
What if he didn't like it?
What if someone comes up here and sees?
What if Dylan told?
What if —
"Do you trust me?" Dylan asked in a low voice, steady and sure.
Did he?
So what if they'd kissed a few times, or Dylan's hand felt like the rapture on his cock? A week ago, Ashton couldn't have picked the guy out of a lineup of his classmates if it weren't for the hair. He didn't know Dylan, and yet…
With a shaky breath, Ashton shoved it all down, planting his feet as wide as the pants bunched at his knees would allow and gripping those shoulders tight.
"W-what are you going to do?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Whatever I like," Dylan informed him, igniting the air in Ashton's lungs. "Unless you use your safe word. Remember what it is?"
"Y-yes," Ashton nodded slowly; his eyes wild, his body trembling.
"Good." His voice was rough, his expression pure devilish desire as he smirked up at Ashton.
That cocky mouth was red and shiny with spit from when he'd damned well sucked down Ashton's dick like a sorority chick's first daiquiri, a little clear pearl of pre-cum beading up on the tip of Ashton's cock at the thought. "Now relax."
Relax?
How in the world was he supposed to 'relax', when Dylan took him back into his mouth and —
A hand slid firmly up the inside of Ashton's leg, brushing experimentally over Ashton's balls before the touch turned more purposeful. Ashton gasped, fingers flexing on the solid swell of Dylan's shoulders as he was cupped and played with, his cock gently sucked and teased by Dylan's mouth.
God, it was so good. It was so damn good. Ashton wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout; shivering and kept suspended right at the edge of not enough, he couldn't think, his brain too wrapped up in mouth and hand, in grip and suck, in —
OH.
The air had hardly left Ashton's lungs before it was followed by a whimper, his legs spreading wider of their own volition as Dylan began to stroke Ashton's taint, hard.
"Feel that?" Dylan whispered as he sent light flashing along Ashton's spine. "That's your prostate. You ever had anyone play with it before?"
"Nnnnn—!" was the best reply Ashton could give just then; his thoughts scattered as Dylan's mouth engulfed him once more, words beyond his ability to muster.
Oh, how he wanted to thrust into that sweet, wet heat; ancient instinct telling him to take, to conquer, to claim. And though somewhere deep inside the moaning, gasping, ragged shell of his body, some sliver of Ashton knew better, knew to hold still, to be polite.
But Dylan demanded yet more of him still, for anytime Ashton's hips moved even the smallest fraction, Dylan's knuckle withdrew.
Each time Ashton flexed, or even so much as trembled too hard, Dylan slowed, releasing him just shy of his peak.
He'd hold the head of Ashton's cock just inside his mouth, pillowed lightly on his tongue; over and over again, until Ashton was utterly desperate with need.
"Dylan, p-please," Ashton panted, flushed and sweating, quivering with the strain of keeping still.
"Please what?" Dylan chirped, not letting up on Ashton even an inch.
Ashton groaned, shifting his legs wider. "You know what."
"Mmm. ?Cómo dices? No te escuché,“ Dylan teased, as if he couldn't possibly guess.
"J-just do it," Ashton growled, eyes clenched tight. He still wasn't certain he wanted to do this, to be honest. But he knew in his gut he couldn't wait any longer to find out either. "L-like you said. Please. Please."
There came the sound of spitting, and Ashton dug his fingers into Dylan's shoulders, pulling him close. And then there was a finger, slick and sure, sliding up, up, up and around —
Ashton sucked in a sharp breath.
— around Ashton's h-hole.
Ashton groaned, shifting back into the pressure. Wondering —
"You sure?" Dylan asked softly.
"Yes," Ashton squeaked out, nodding. "God. Please."
His eyes flew wide as the pressure withdrew, the protest dying on his lips as Dylan spat on his finger again.
Those cinnamon-flecked eyes shone bright, locked on Ashton's as Dylan slowly — maddeningly slowly — breached him, pushing past Ashton's rim, further and further as Ashton's body trembled and clenched around him as Dylan sank deeper inside.
"You look so fucking sexy right now," Dylan murmured, gently pulling out before pushing back in. And again. And again?
Oh, hell, he was fucking Ashton. Dylan was inside him; there was something — someone, a man — inside him; a strange, almost uncomfortable, oddly intriguing pressure where Ashton had never felt anything like it before.
By itself, it wasn't… Well, it wasn't transcendent or anything; a confusing mixture of too much and not enough his body didn't seem to know what to do with.
But knowing it was Dylan, knowing that he had a man's hand in his ass, this feeling of ceding control?
That was…that was interesting. Especially as Dylan continued to thrust, rubbing and sliding against the rim as Ashton panted, tilting his hips and spreading his knees wider to give Dylan all the room to work.
"Relax, Ashton," Dylan whispered, working inside Ashton with a confidence that made it so easy to trust, to give in, to let go. "How's it feel?"
"Feels… good?" Ashton answered him hesitantly, still trying to decide. "Nice, I guess. But I don't get what the fuss is about."
"Hold on," Dylan warned. And none too soon, shoving his way deeper inside, fingers twisting as Ashton frowned, trying to work out just what —
"GUH!"
Ashton gasped, his entire body shaking with it, spasming over Dylan so fast he nearly fell, taking Dylan's hand with him in the process.
W-w-w-w-wh-wh-wha-
"W-wha…?" Ashton finally choked out, muscles still singing with sensation.
But Dylan just laughed. And then?
Oh, GOD.
He did it again.
And again.
Ashton whimpered, writhing, wracked with a wholly new sensation.
"This feel good?" Dylan asked, the innocence dripping from his voice, the jerk.
"Y-yeah," Ashton moaned, his body quivering as Dylan stroked that sweet little spot that sent Ashton's body into overdrive as his brain leaked out of his ears.
"What about this?" the damned saint of sucking lowered his head to tongue and lick at Ashton's balls as he continued to toy with him from the inside with his finger.
"Fucking hell," Ashton cried out, his hips practically vibrating, unable to decide between Dylan's hand and mouth. "Dylan! S-stop, I'm gonna come."
"That's the idea, mi bobocito," Dylan informed him, finger plunging even deeper. “You’re going to come just like this; with me in you and around you, unable to think about anything except how good I'm making you feel."
And hell, he wasn't putting action to words, wasn’t he? Lighting up Ashton's world from the inside out.
"Unless you use your safe word, this ass of yours is mine," Dylan growled. "You got that?”
Oh, he got that.
Whatever Dylan demanded; just as long as he kept doing that?
Ashton moaned, nodding even as he dropped his head, curling over Dylan's body, kneading at his shoulders as he stroked and stroked and —
"Who does this ass belong to, Ashton?"
Ashton nearly choked on his own damned tongue.
"You, dammit, you!" he groaned, rocking himself further onto Dylan's finger, needing more, needing it all.
"Ay, that's right," Dylan said before swallowing him down again.
Ashton's lungs were on fire; his body incandescent.
He trembled with the strain of it, but he could be good; God, it felt so good.
Dylan's mouth was a revelation; his finger thrusting, rubbing Ashton's hole; lighting him up from the inside, massaging Ashton's taint with his thumb; with his other hand, he cradled Ashton's balls.
Tears pricked at Ashton's eyes from the force he squeezed them tight, pushed higher and higher; his body squirming round his finger, dancing to Dylan's tune. It was too much to bear and too good to stop, a riot of sensation and pleasure so intense the spaces between felt like purity, like pain.