Chapter 8 - Absolute #2
Ashton looked around the bar, desperate for any distraction. Anything at all that could —
[ Dylan ]:
I'm game however you want to do this
Damn it.
How am I supposed to even answer that?
Ashton tried a few responses, but deleted them all. Biting his lip, he finally typed in something simple.
Do what?
Leaning back against the bar with the air of a doomed man, Ashton waited for the axe to fall. That it came along with a —
Bloooooooooop.
— sound effect was really just pissing him off now.
[ Dylan ]:
Go find a bathroom, lock the door, and text me when you've got your cock in your hands
Oh, God.
Ashton…was not going to do that. What he was going to do was order himself a scotch — a double, dammit — and then go chat up the lady smiling at him from down the bar.
He smiled back, nodding at her appreciatively.
No way
Why would I do that?
Her dress sparkled in the low light like a million tiny stars as she slid onto the seat next to him, placing her matching clutch on top of the bar.
[ Dylan ]:
Forgotten me already?
I'm hurt
Guess you need a reminder
Her dark hair fell in waves over daringly bared shoulders; the woman's dress cut indecently, enticingly low.
Low enough to show off the small tattoo accenting a perfectly firm curve, of a cute and dainty little —
Fresa.
Strawberry. Ashton had looked it up after that night he and Dylan…
You can't tell me it's because you don't have the balls
I sucked on 'em
Made you moan and squirm
I know how big they are
How heavy
Fucked. We fucked. He made you come so hard you saw stars being born, and now you can't even think the word? He's right. You are a fresa.
Because, sure, it literally translated to strawberry. But apparently in Mexico, it also meant a preppy rich kid, and Ashton was under no illusions which version Dylan had meant, at least originally.
"N-nice tattoo," he stuttered out, face flaming as he realized he'd been staring at her breasts.
But she just smiled, angling herself in a way that served to show them off even more.
"Thanks," she murmured, touching it lightly with her fingertip and drawing Ashton's attention back to her…accents. "I just love strawberries, don't you?"
The memory of cheap strawberry soda filled Ashton's senses right as the bartender set down Ashton's scotch. Sitting there in the upstairs hallway, lips still tingling with the press of Dylan's mouth as Ashton finished his soda and waited…
Like 'em to be in my palm right now
Wanna play with 'em
You gonna play with them for me?
"Got one of those for me?" she asked, nodding at Ashton's brandy.
Ashton sighed.
"You can have mine," he told her, nudging it in her direction, before heading for the Men's.
Thanking his lucky stars it was empty, Ashton snagged a mint from the little basket of free toiletries as he headed for a stall. He stood there for a moment, wondering what the hell he was doing there, before typing a short —
Defense? Rebuttal? Plea?
Im str8
[ Dylan ]:
Yes, and…?
Ashton sighed, bracing one hand against the stall wall, and palming himself through his pants with the other.
Just…adjusting things. I'm not —
He groaned, biting his lip as he rubbed himself again, and then again.
[ Dylan ]:
Did you like having your balls in my mouth?
Yes.
How'd it feel when I swallowed your cock?
Like I'd found religion.
What would you want me to do if I was there right now?
I'd make you shut up
Ashton's breath was coming harsher now. He widened his stance, imagining it was him and Dylan on the roof.
[ Dylan ]:
Ooo, I bet you could
How?
Would you choke me with your dick?
Or bend me over and blow my mind?
Oh, fuck. Would Dylan really let him? Ashton had always wanted to try anal, though until that night at the party, he'd never given serious thought to it being with another guy.
Or from another guy…
Ashton shuddered, his fingers slipping on the keys in his one-handed haste.
Both
First one, then the other
[ Dylan ]:
Did you like my finger in your ass?
Woah, what?
His rhythm slowing, Ashton typed on instinct.
no
[ Dylan ]:
Really? The way you were moaning said otherwise
Ashton scowled, leaning his forehead against the wooden partition.
It just...i felt good. Doesn't mean i liked it
[ Dylan ]:
But it felt good?
Ashton licked his lips, his heart racing as he hit [SEND].
yes
[ Dylan ]:
What did it feel like?
What did it —
Ashton's mind blanked, uncertain how to answer. Uncertain how to reply over fucking text, Holy Hell.
[ Dylan ]:
Are you hard now?
Ashton chuckled, thumping his forehead against the wall.
I could cut diamonds.
[ Dylan ]:
I'm hard just thinking about you
Thinking about the other night
About your big, thick cock
About the way my lips had to stretch around you
About how heavy you were on my tongue
Ashton closed his eyes, remembering Dylan's mouth wrapped around his cock.
[ Dylan ]:
Fuck, Ashton. I want that
Do you want that?
Yes!
No.
I'm…
I'm not gay
[ Dylan ]:
Didn't ask if you were gay
i asked if you were hard
And horny
And maybe wanted to do something about it
Thump. Thump. Thump.
At this rate, Ashton's forehead was going to have a rather impressive bruise.
Y
Ashton sighed, reaching for his fly.
[ Dylan ]:
Any lotion around?
He froze, at a loss before remembering the basket of toiletries on the sink counter.
Hold on
Listening carefully, Ashton decided the coast was clear, shuffling out of the stall sporting an embarrassingly prominent erection. Fortunately, his mission turned out to be worth it, a bottle of lotion lying nestled in the basket between the mouthwash and individually wrapped floss picks.
Ashton took the entire bottle, quickly scurrying back into the refuge of the stall.
yes
[ Dylan ]:
Get some on your hand
Think about how my mouth felt on your cock
Blowing out a deep breath, Ashton balanced his phone on the toilet paper dispenser, unzipping his fly to lift himself free of his briefs. He coated his left palm in lotion as instructed, and got to work.
[ Dylan ]:
You thinking about me, handsome?
Ashton slowed his harsh, efficient strokes; a means to an end, sure, but not a particularly enjoyable one.
Yeah
Slower now, more of a glide from root to tip. He kept the pressure firm; less vise, more squeeze.
[ Dylan ]:
You want to fuck my mouth again, don't you?
Oh, fuck yes he did.
Want to sink that thick cock of yours between my lips
Yeah.
and pound my face hard
Yeah.
Feel my throat clench around you
Yeah.
Make me swallow you down
Fuck yeah.
Ashton bit his lip, brow furrowing.
[ Dylan ]:
or maybe it’s not my mouth you want
Maybe it’s my ass
Oh, I bet you'd feel so good
Yeah. Yeah, I bet it would.
And yet —
After a few more half-hearted strokes, Ashton slowed. It felt nice, but… lacking somehow. Like he was broken or something; a machine missing a piece.
[ Dylan ]:
Are you still hard?
Yes
[ Dylan ]:
How hard?
Ashton scowled.
Fuck you
[ Dylan ]:
I want you to
Jerk yourself
Pretend it's me
Trying again, Ashton wasted no time. His strokes became rough and quick, beating his dick like he was mad at it. Willing himself to come, to just come already. To get this ridiculous game of Dylan's over.
FUCK YOU
[ Dylan ]:
That's the idea
I'm stroking myself too
Oh?
Thinking about you
Your body
The taste of your mouth
All those sounds you made for me
Mmm.
Ashton slowed, picturing it; the memory of them leaping easily to mind. His breathing grew ragged, bouncing off the tiled walls as if it were doubled, as if it came from two throats, as if Dylan were with him there too.
Do you ever finger yourself when you jack off?
I…
What?
No
that's gay
Ashton's cheeks heated with the hypocrisy of it. But really, jacking himself off in a men's room because Dylan had ordered him to was one thing, but fingering his own hole in a bathroom stall was entirely different.
He couldn't say how just then, just…
It just is, okay?
[ Dylan ]:
Imagine it’s me
Think about the way I opened you up the other night
Think about how good it felt with just one finger
Ashton's heart was pounding in his ears; his lungs thudding away inside his chest.
He wouldn't.
He couldn't.
Did u do it?
Except…Dylan wanted him to.
And, weirdly? That made Ashton want it too.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
Ashton shoved down his pants and briefs all in one go; twisting around and contorting himself, trying to figure out just how this was even supposed to — to work.
u still there?
He spat on his finger just like Dylan had, making a mental note to get some lube, before striking that plan just as quickly. Getting lube meant he was planning for this to happen again, and this could absolutely not happen again, ever, and —
Feels weird
Beyond weird. It's just… huh. That's…
Huh.
[ Dylan ]:
Do you like it?
Honestly? Ashton wasn't sure. It was… interesting was too strong a word for it, but the idea that any part of him could be so…
Hrm. Silky?
It was undiscovered territory that'd been with him his entire life. So… he'd done that now.
But do I like it?
No
What was there to like?
[ Dylan ]:
Then stop
Maybe if…?
Did you stop?
Seated now, Ashton could get a better angle, one that let him go a bit deeper. Though still not as far as Dylan had managed, much to Ashton’s frustration.
Doesn't feel like when you did it
Ashton shifted, trying again. But honestly? It just highlighted Dylan's absence all the more, filling —
No, not filling, and that's the problem.
— leaving him feeling hollow, wishing for something more.
[ Dylan ]:
u want me to come over and help?
Dylan, coming here to the bar?
Ashton winced. As much as he liked the idea of taking Dylan out on the town and showing him a good time; of showing him off?
We'll stick out like two sore thumbs, won't we?
And Ashton…he wasn't ready for that, not by a long shot.
No
Can't bring him back to the frat house either. Not just because of what the guys will think —
Though, sure, mostly because of what the guys would think.
— but I'm pretty sure the 'no women past the first floor' rule extends to cover any person you find fuckable.
Though how they'd have to word the bylaws if two fraternity brothers ever started hooking up, Ashton had no idea.