A/N: Whew! That was quite a reception! Thanks to everybody who alerted and bigger thanks to all those that reviewed! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, especially those of you who are following Amatores and currently wishing to flog me for the massive cliffy. May this delicious, citrusy chapter appease you!
Warnings: Heavy, ripened lime. Squeeze with caution - you may get some in your eye.
Disclaimer: I don't own and I don't profit but I do love reviews!
Beta'd by: My own personal Sherpa up the mountain of "show, don't tell" - Itabitaboo.
When we get outside the air is clear, if only a few degrees cooler than in the club. We walk through the deserted parking lot, weaving between cars and making our way towards the street. He stops between a Charger and a Rav4 and pushes me up against the SUV. I don't even have a chance to ask what he's doing before his tongue is sliding into my mouth. That intoxicating taste drowns my protests and I pull him against me.
His kisses are fierce and ravenous. His mouth crashes against mine over and over, then begins to wander along my jaw and down my neck. I can feel his lips and tongue—warm and wet—and the hard metal of his piercings gliding over my skin.
He's aggressive with the way he has me pushed up against the car, one hand sliding into my back pocket while the other pushes my chin up and exposes my neck. I don't complain though, not even when I feel the wet drag of his tongue down my neck or the scrape of his teeth along my clavicle. There's a tug on my collar and I can tell by the humid breath washing over me that he's biting my shirt, pulling it down and revealing more skin. Before I can even offer my opinion on this behavior, he's moved on to drag his incisors down my chest over the thin cotton. The material serves as a poor barrier when he locates my nipple and worries it between his teeth.
"The fuck?!" I shout, jumping in surprise.
He pulls away with a smirk, looking up at me from his low vantage. There is something devious in his eyes and I'm suddenly worried that little nip is nothing compared to what he has planned.
He sinks to his knees, dragging his hands across my body to converge at my belt. My heart is hammering, my throat thick with anticipation. I try to swallow, but the lump of excitement is too persistent. He works my buckle and fly like it's second nature and I nervously look around as his hands find their way into my pants, tugging them down. Nobody's around, but I can hear the occasional shout and change in music volume as the club doors open and close and it only heightens my anxiety.
"Sasuke," I say, my voice a tad shakier than I would like, "I don't think this is a good idea."
At first, it's like he doesn't hear me. He just keeps going about grabbing my dick and exposing it to the night air. I hear something like a hum, a hungry sound, and then he wraps his fingers around my length and looks up. "You sure you don't want this?"
"No, I–" The words die on my tongue when he squeezes and moves his hand in a short stroke. "...Oh, God."
"'Cause it seems like you want to keep going..." Sasuke says conversationally, looking straight at my weeping cock as he speaks. He tugs again and I wilt against the car, my head thudding against the door.
This is my first blowjob in public... and it's with a dude. I've got to be losing my mind. "Fuck..." I hear myself groan. My voice has dropped, layered with a husky undertone. I'm past the point of no return and I know it.
"Soon, sweetie," Sasuke says with a hint of amusement. "Relax," he orders after another couple strokes and I feel his other hand run up and down my side, like he's trying to comfort me. "I'm gonna show you a good time."
I do as he says and will my fists to loosen and jaw to unclench. It helps quite significantly when he runs his tongue up the thick vein of my shaft and takes me into his mouth. And, holy shit, does he have a wicked mouth. That little tongue stud is pressing into my flesh, stimulating me in ways I've never felt before. Dude's got skills. I guess I shouldn't be surprised... I bet most gay guys are fantastic at blow jobs, better than most girls anyway. He knows every button to push and in which order.
He starts with a broad sweeping of his tongue down the length and back up, exploring the veins of my pulsing shaft. He pays special attention to the head—gliding his teeth gently over the crown, pressing the stud into my frenulum and lapping upwards. My knees almost buckle when he does this and I have to slam my hands onto the car to keep myself up. There's a moment of pause before Sasuke takes my cockhead in a firm grip and gently tugs on either side. I don't quite understand what he's doing until I feel a long, languid swipe of his tongue across the tip of my dick. Then, my eyes roll back in my head and I gasp as that sinful tongue begins to flick rapidly between the lips of my slit. I can't take the pleasure. I curse and pull his hair and, finally, I beg for him to stop. Sasuke doesn't relent immediately. Instead, he peers up at me from under his bangs. The glint in his eye is absolutely impish. Eventually, he does stop. And one slow, apologetic lap later, he pulls back.
He gives me a moment—only a few seconds—to calm down before he puts his mouth to the tip and takes a long draught of precum. He begins a slow bob, taking in a little more of my dick each time. It's only when I'm over halfway down his throat that he starts to suck and his mouth becomes a blistering vacuum of pure ecstasy.
Pulse racing, I start to pant. I don't know when it happened, but I realize I'm running my hands through his thick, black hair and destroying the spikes I'm sure he spent some time arranging. My fingers curl when his tongue twists and rolls against my shaft and I tug him down a little farther.
He doesn't complain, doesn't sputter or pull back. He just bobs and swirls and sucks. It's amazingly liberating.
To my surprise, I hear myself moan, "Yes... Sasuke."
I've never been terribly vocal during sex. I guess years of being called a loudmouth when I was a kid made me self conscious. But, as Sasuke continues to suck me off, I find my inhibitions melting away in the heat of his mouth. The sound of my own voice is actually arousing, so I let it continue unhindered. I start a mantra, whispering quiet obscenities as he just goes to fucking town.
A strangled gasp of pleasure escapes me when he cups my balls, rolling and squeezing them in tandem with his steady bob. I momentarily see double when he extends two fingers and presses them into my taint.
I'm on the brink now and I let loose a rumbling groan as my hips start to jerk again. I've still got a hand in his hair and I start to get a little more forceful as I pull him forward, urging him to take more. And Sasuke, champ that he is, obliges.
"Sasuke," I say, my tone warning. I feel that telling tingle and moan desperately, "Ahhh...Sasuke... I'm gonna come."
I expect him to pull off and finish me with his hand—as is the customary response of the women I've been with—so I'm amazed when he just sucks harder. The coil snaps and I jerk my hips twice before going rigid. Pulse after pulse, I unload into his mouth and his throat constricts around me as he swallows greedily.
I run my fingers through his hair again, pulling those dark blue bangs out of his face, and look at him. His midnight eyes are staring right back, glimmering with the satisfaction of a job well done. I'm struck by how strange and incongruous this image is. His mouth is a tight seal around my glistening cock, his cheeks are hollowed as he sucks up the last drops of my cum. Everything about him is so masculine, and yet this isn't a position I've ever seen a man in. But somehow... it seems right.
He twists his tongue around me one last time before pulling back and letting go with a pop. The next moment is a little awkward as I tuck myself back in and he stands, brushing grit off his jeans.
The tension continues to build in the silence as I fasten my belt and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It finally breaks when I start to laugh. It's a breathy chuckle muffled by the hands I bring to my face. "Holy shit," I say.
I feel heat against me again and peek through my fingers to see Sasuke leaning into me, looking at me with that damn smirk. I mean, Jesus, it's like the guy has no shame. The look on his face is so haughty and proud, like he doesn't care that he was on his knees moments ago... like he enjoyed the way the asphalt dug into his skin.
He grabs hold of my wrists and pulls my hands down. "Was it good?" he asks with a tone that tells me he damn well knows the answer.
I scoff and roll my eyes, but after a pause I feel compelled to answer. "Yeah."
"You wanna taste it?" The question is whispered softly against my mouth.
I don't quite understand what he's asking, but I find out a second later when he puts his lips to mine and slides his tongue into my mouth. Under the spearmint and vodka, there's a tang. It's not quite bitter, not quite salty... not like anything I've ever tasted before. Slowly, it dawns on me—it's my cum. My own cum. It's coated his tongue and left a remnant of flavor... and that's what I'm tasting.
As soon as I had this revelation, I should've pushed him away. As soon as I realized that I was tasting my jizz on a dude's tongue, I should have ended it. But I didn't. In fact, for reasons I cannot even begin to comprehend, I go into some kind of frenzy. The kiss turns manic as I thrust my tongue into his mouth and ravage it thoroughly.
Once again, I've got my hands fisted in his hair, slanting his head and diving deeper into the embrace. We roll clumsily until his back is pressed to the Rav4 and I'm kissing him so violently one might consider it an attack. His hands find my shoulder blades and start to claw, and somehow I know he isn't trying to defend himself. He's encouraging me. So I kiss him hard, bite his lip ring and pull his hair.
Unable to reign in this roiling passion, my body starts to grind. I can feel my arousal picking up again and I am rather surprised when my dick starts to stir once more. I'm usually a one-and-done kinda guy—I rarely have sex twice in a day, let alone in back to back sessions—but something about tonight is different. Something about Sasuke makes me insatiable.
I break the kiss and pull my hands from his hair to grip the edge of the car. There is no other way to put this... I have lost my damn mind. I'm really testing the suspension of the Rav4 as I grind into Sasuke, thrusting my rock-hard dick against him like a sex-crazed madman.
"Fuck," I whisper against his ear. "Ah... fuck, Sasuke."
He grabs my hips and forcefully pushes them back. He's got to be pretty strong, because I'm fighting him. I don't want to lose that sweet friction, not when I'm aching for another release. What the hell is wrong with me?
"Slow down, tiger," he says playfully. "My place is close by, if you wanna go."
"Yeah," I answer breathlessly. "Yeah, let's go to your place."
A few blocks and about five minutes later, we arrive at the door to his building. It's an old brick structure, but it appears to be well maintained. It has sort of an industrial feel as we walk the concrete floor to what looks like a service elevator.
Between the walk here and the ride up, my hormones have calmed and I'm starting to feel nervous. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just fake like I'm sick and take off before I do anything I'm going to regret. I look over to Sasuke and study his profile as he stares up at the slowly rising floor number. He's got a bit of blue hair caught in his barbell and I reach out to gently tug it free. He looks askance at me, a small smile on his lips, and my pulse quickens. That's all I need to reaffirm my desire.
Up on his floor, we stop in front of a door marked '33A'. After fighting with the lock for a moment he lets us in, flicks on the lights and tosses his keys to a small table to the right of the door. On the left is the kitchen—it's all brushed steel appliances and the stove has a huge fume hood that looks like it belongs in a cafeteria rather than an apartment. Looking deeper into the space, I see that it's an open floor plan, like a large studio. If I'm being polite, I'd say it has a minimalist design. But in all honesty, it's just barren. There's a chunky oak coffee table, a gold corduroy couch and two worn leather chairs. I can't decide if this is supposed to be shabby-chic or if Sasuke just doesn't give a shit. I see a large accordion screen, which I'm guessing separates the living room from the bedroom. The panels look like oversized washboards, with corrugated steel in weathered wooden frames.
I can feel his eyes on me as I examine his apartment and I slowly turn my head to face him. He doesn't blink when we make eye contact. He just keeps staring. It's a little disconcerting, the way he looks so openly at me. It makes me nervous and excited at the same time.
"Beer?" he asks and I nod.
He turns to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Heineken. Prying off the caps, he hands one to me and leaves the kitchen, walking with casual strides to the couch. I turn and lean against a concrete pillar that serves to separate the two areas, watching as he takes a seat, slouching back against the cushions and setting one ankle on the opposite knee. He looks back at me and takes a long, leisurely swig. I lift my bottle and take three gulps before I pull it away.
I'm nervous... too nervous. Too nervous and not drunk enough, so I take another swig.
He keeps staring. My attention focuses on the bottle as he presses it to his lips. The way he does this, with his unblinking eyes, is strangely sensual. I finish my beer and feel an inflated sense of confidence that tells me the booze is working. I move towards him and he sets his half-finished bottle on the table.
He's positioned himself completely open in the corner of the couch and brought that ankle down so that his legs are a little spread. One arm is thrown over the top of the couch while the other leans against the armrest. His eyes track my movement with a predatory glint, but his expression is otherwise warm and inviting.
I take a seat on the cushion next to him, not close enough to touch but certainly closer than I could be. He shifts a little, leaning towards me slightly. Part of me wishes he would just make a goddamn move so I don't have to, but another part of me is happy he is giving me time to adjust.
"Music?" he asks.
"Sure."
He leans over the edge of the couch to a side table I can't see and finds a remote. After the press of a few buttons, music drifts into the room from unseen speakers.
"This good?" he asks.
I don't recognize the song, but it's mellow and unobtrusive—good background noise—so I nod. His lips quirk into a smile and he sets the remote down.
My eyes rove over him in the moment that he's turned away. The only source of light is a floor lamp in the corner that has given the room a soft, yellow glow. It bathes Sasuke in warm hues. He looks different here, away from the harsh club lights. He's lean but not skinny—lithe, I'd say. He's not all hard lines though. There is a softness to his frame, probably why I thought he was a girl in the first place. When he turns back to me, I quickly avert my eyes.
I don't know why I'm so apprehensive. I mean, I'm here... I know what's gonna happen. I want this. So, why am I chewing my lip bloody?
Sasuke shifts again, leaning towards me, and runs a hand through my hair. "Relax," he says. His voice is a low, easy timbre that I do find soothing. "Where's the guy that tried to fuck me in the parking lot?"
The corner of my mouth pulls up into a small, lopsided smile. "I think he sobered up."
He cards his fingers through my hair one more time. "Well, we're just gonna have to fix that."
In one smooth move, he leans forward, grabs his beer, pivots on one knee, and straddles my lap. He puts a hand on my shoulder and takes a long swig, eyes on me the whole time. After pulling the bottle from his lips, he presses them to mine and floods my mouth with Heineken. I'm too shocked to do anything but swallow it down.
Once the beer is gone, my mouth is filled with Sasuke's tongue, rolling and twining with mine. His jaw is working, his lips sliding over my mouth. His hands are running up my arms, over my shoulders and behind my neck to pull my head closer. The way his tongue laps against mine has my stomach twisting with desire and when his fingers curl into my hair, I feel lightheaded. My eyes flutter shut and I begin to kiss him back.
When he starts to rock in my lap, the last of my hesitation turns to ash in the conflagration of my arousal. My hands, which had been hovering above the cushions in a state of shock, now move to him and travel down his gently tapering torso. They find purchase on his slender hips and I encourage his movement, pulling him into me harder and faster. My pants are growing tighter by the second, as he grinds out a steady rhythm against my pelvis.
My hands slide back up his sides, finding their way under his shirt to explore his body. His skin is hot to the touch. The hardness of his stomach and shifting muscles of his back are strange under my fingers, as I'm used to much more pliable flesh. But there is a gentle curve just above his hips that follows around the small of his back. My hands stroke this spot, feeling somewhat more familiar here.
He pulls away from the kiss suddenly and lifts his arms. I immediately drag my hands up his torso, pulling the tank and fishnet up. Ducking under the fabric, he slides out. I take a moment to admire this newly revealed body—the lean muscle wrapped in porcelain skin. There's no hair to be seen and only the slightest lines define his chest and abdomen. My gaze bounces from one rosy nipple to the other and I am somewhat surprised to find them clear of metal. I cup his sides and run my hands upwards, gliding my thumbs from near his navel to his chest, then gently circle the tiny pink nubs.
"No piercings..." I say. I don't know if it was supposed to be a question or a statement. I'm somewhat entranced by the way the flesh has hardened under my attention.
He shakes his head. "I tried once," he says as he runs his fingers down my arms to trace the back of my hands. "I had some kind of reaction to the metal. Got infected. After that I was too sensitive."
He says this while taking ahold of my thumbs and index fingers. I watch as he brings them together to trap his erect nipples and pinches hard. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and hums, so I take the cue and roll the flesh between my digits.
"Yessss..." he hisses and grabs onto my wrists, digging his blunt nails into the skin.
I give another twist and a pull that has him slurring out expletives. He throws his head back on a thin gasp and grinds into my lap harder. His pleasure is too much to watch, so I wrap my arms around him and pull him against me, latching on to one hard nipple. I lave my tongue over the nub before sucking firmly. The sound of his ecstatic cursing rings in my ears as his hands tug on my hair. When I take the nub between my teeth and gently begin to nibble, he loses his damn mind. He screams out and tries to arch away but I've got my arms locked around him too tightly. I feel his fists come crashing down on my shoulders and back as a long and drawn out, "Fuuuuuck!" fills the room.
I offer a few apologetic flicks of my tongue before letting him go. Panting, he collapses back into my lap. My eyes travel from his flushed face down to his abused left nipple. It's bright pink and splotched red in places. The sight brings a smile to my lips.
"Fucking sadist," Sasuke says as he brushes his hair back.
"I'm not a sadist," I say defensively. "Maybe you're a fucking masochist."
"Never said I wasn't," he replies with a devilish smirk. He lifts a scathing brow at me and points to the pronounced tent in my pants. "But you seemed to enjoy yourself well enough."
I can't help the blush that warms my cheeks, so I look away.
Honestly, I've never been into any of that kinky shit. My sexual repertoire is about as vanilla as they come, but I'd like to believe I excel at the skill set I've developed over the years. Besides, who needs whips and chains when they can fuck like a stallion?
Sasuke shifts on my lap, then stands. "Jesus," he mumbles, rubbing at his crotch. My eyes follow the movement and I can see the contour of his dick straining against those skinny jeans, the fly looking fit to burst.
"Come on, babe," he says as he turns. "I'm done with foreplay."