Chapter 10 #2
The smell in the room was suffocating, layered and dark and addictive.
It was genuinely insane the way his kapnos affected me.
I wanted it to consume every molecule of air in my lungs, to surround me like a shadowed fog until all my senses were replaced by this and this alone. The darkness between fir trees.
This was one of the very few benefits of living on Earth.
The shift in my kapnos, the increase in intensity.
It made me fucking feral.
I grabbed my balls, rolling them in my palm, my thumb pressed against the base of my dick, holding it out straight.
Even if I’d cared to try, I wouldn’t have been able to tear my eyes away from the sight of Micah’s hand working his sizable erection, so I didn’t.
The tendons tightening in his forearm, the visible veins on the back of his hand, the flex of his bicep.
I imagined him fucking me instead of his fist, bent over the back of the couch, my body tight and straining as he hit me deep and hard. His hand reaching around to firmly jack me off at the same time, my own hands bracing myself.
Or me fucking him the same way, his tight ass gripping my cock so well, his throaty moans wrapping me in endless sin.
Fuck. He was so fucking hot, and I couldn’t decide which sight I liked better.
Him topping me or the other way around. Both served a different purpose, stroked a different part of my brain.
His slick tongue rimming me, hands spreading me, my hips grinding down, pressing my swollen cock against his comforter…
I was panting, chest heaving, hand tightening on my rigid cock, balls throbbing with the need for release.
Micah was the same. I watched him jacking off right across from me like I was in a trance, fantasizing about too many filthy things I’d never do with him again.
He’d flipped his shirt up over his chest to get it out of the way, showcasing the seize of his abs in the dim glow.
My orgasm was approaching hard and fast, and I didn’t care to prolong it. I kept the pace of my strokes the same as all the air in my lungs inverted and heat wrapped around the base of my spine, spiraling through my body, building and building…
Cum spurted out of my dick, coating my fist and bottom part of my stomach, dripping down my shaft as I suppressed my groans. Micah wasn’t far behind me, shooting up towards his chest while I watched, cum glistening on the muscular corrugations of his abs and obliques.
It was quiet for a minute while we caught our breath.
The other noises that’d ceased to exist the moment Micah pushed his shorts down were slowly reentering my consciousness. Quiet voices from the TV autoplaying something else, the central air system, the wind outside making lengthy pine branches scrape the siding.
Micah tugged his shirt all the way off, then used the cotton to clean his load from his torso. I wasn’t wearing a shirt to start off with, so I scooped the rest of my cum off my stomach, then wiped the side of my fist on his couch, smearing cum all over the worn leather.
In an instant, Micah was on his feet, stalking over to me, clearly unhappy with where I’d chosen to dispose of my cum.
“You are fucking disgusting,” he gritted out, his voice just a bit too loud. “I genuinely can’t do shit without you trying to fuck up my house in some way. Are you that immature?”
“No. Give me your shirt, then. I don’t have anything to wipe it with.”
“Your tongue.” He crossed his arms, biceps bulging.
“If you seriously think I’m going to lick my cum off your couch, you are a fucking moron. I’m not doing that.”
“I could make you do it.”
“I’m shocked you’d even say that, Micah.”
His face paled, barely. Not enough for anyone other than me to notice, but I felt like an asshole for saying what I’d said. He wasn’t like that. He just said shit. Like how I just said shit.
I didn’t take it back, though.
I stood up and shouldered past him, heading into the kitchen. Grabbing the entire roll of paper towels, I adjusted my half-hard dick in my sweats and went back to the couch, unwrapping half the roll and dropping the giant pile onto my cum stain.
I looked at Micah.
“Are you serious?” He raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed, forearms rippling as his fingers pressed.
I leaned forward and patted the bunch of paper towels.
“Satisfied?” I questioned.
“Not even close.”
He looked so annoyed at me, so irritated, so tired of dealing with my immaturity.
Which was bullshit. I knew I affected him—I’d just watched him spill all over himself while staring at me.
Micah could pretend to have everything under lock and key now, but I knew how nasty and uninhibited I used to make him.
I weighed my options in my head for all of two seconds before I knelt in front of the couch and moved the mountain of paper towels, tilting my head so I could see Micah’s face when I stuck my tongue out.
He was caught off-guard, which was what I’d wanted.
I liked proving to him I wasn’t as predictable as he claimed I was.
His expression was twisting, raw obsession glinting in his eyes as I licked the couch.
It satisfied me.
The paper towels had soaked up most of my cum so there wasn’t much left for me to clean now—but there was going to be a pretty good stain.
He was staring at my open mouth, my tongue, hardly breathing.
For a second, we were almost on even ground. He held nothing over me.
“You wanna fuck me?” I asked lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Micah snatched my jaw, wiping the smirk clean off as he pushed his thumb past my lips.
Our eyes connected like a lightning strike finding ground.
My traitorous breath hitched.