Getting Better
by Lynx18
AN: WARNING This story is rated NC-17 it is rather graphic, if you aren't old enough or don't like that type of thing please don't read. Everyone else, enjoy!
Snitch never knocked; in fact he tended to let himself into Skittery's dorm whenever he came over, then would embark on a mission to find out where Skittery was and what he was up to. When Snitch walked into the foyer today, however, he needed no assistance in finding Skittery. The walls were virtually shaking with the sort of volume Skittery reserved only for the Beatles, and after pausing for a moment, Snitch decided the song was "With a Little Help From My Friends" from the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album. It was one of Skittery's favorites, and he and Snitch had debated more than once whether it or the White Album was the better listen.
Tossing his keys and his jacket onto the couch, Snitch jogged upstairs and peered into Skittery's bedroom. He was sprawled on his back on his bed, wearing just a pair of athletic shorts, his hair wet as though he's just been in the shower. He was staring at the ceiling, arms pillowed behind his head, and singing along with Ringo -- their vocal capabilities were about on par with one another. He got a wistful smile on his face that nearly made Snitch melt when he sang, "Would you believe in a love at first sight?/Yes I'm certain it happens all the time." And Snitch found himself mouthing along, "What do you see when you turn out the light?/I can't tell you, but I know that it's mine."
By then Snitch was grinning an idiot as well, feeling like Skittery was singing the song for him, even though he didn't know he was there. He'd thought of that a few times when they had fallen asleep together, whether after watching a movie, or catching a nap between classes, that he wasn't sure what he and Skittery were to each other yet -- they had never really discussed relationships, and their intimacy had yet to go past some kissing and exploration -- but he knew, deep down, that Skittery was his.
The song changed again, to "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds," and Skittery seemed to snap out of his song-trance and notice he was being watched. "Hey, Snitchy," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "Feeling voyeuristic today?"
"Nah," Snitch said with a chuckle, coming in and kicking off his shoes so he could flop on the bed too. "Just listening to the music."
"And my horrid squalling," Skittery added, giving him a rueful smile.
"You have it turned up so loud that I couldn't tell you were singing if I hadn't been watching your lips," Snitch replied, leaning over and venturing a gentle kiss to said lips.
"Mmm," Skittery hummed contentedly, grabbing Snitch as he pulled away and bringing him back for another kiss. Snitch wrapped an arm around Skittery's bare shoulders and gave himself into the kiss, an intimate, sort of nuzzling type of kiss, until Skittery's tongue gently urged Snitch's lips to part. Snitch murmured approvingly and complied, wondering if Skittery had read his thoughts concerning what their relationship was and wanting more from it.
Skittery rolled Snitch onto his back, laying partially on top of him and stroking his fingers through his hair as they kissed. The song had changed again to "Getting Better," and Snitch couldn't help but agree. He couldn't stifle a giggle at the appropriateness of the soundtrack, and Skittery pulled away. "What?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not that bad of a kisser, am I?"
"No," Snitch giggled again, reaching up and pointing to the speaker near the bed. "The song."
Skittery listened and then chuckled himself. "Think it's getting better?" He then grew a bit serious, biting his lip nervously for a moment, then whispering, "It could get even better."
Snitch laughed again and shook his head. "That has to be one of the corniest come-ons I've ever heard in my life," he said. Skittery looked genuinely embarrassed, but Snitch kissed Skittery's pouting lips to reassure him that using the Beatles as a seduction tool scored extra points in his book, despite the questionable quality of the line. "I think I'd like that," he then whispered, turning his eyes up in what he hoped was a come-hither look. Snitch sincerely hoped that he and Skittery both had the same idea as to what was being proposed, but when Skittery gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, he figured he had nothing to worry about. His stomach fluttered with nerves and for a moment his mind fixed on the music, "Fixing A Hole," rather than what he had just consented to. But Skittery knew that Snitch, while not completely inexperienced, was for all intents and purposes a virgin, and Snitch trusted him to act accordingly.
His mind came back from the music very quickly, however, at the scrape of stubble on his shoulder, and insistent, sucking kisses on his neck. Every one of his senses jumped into hyperactivity, and he felt his skin tingle, his nipples stiffen, and his cock twitch to attention. "Damn," he breathed, bringing a hand to the back of Skittery's neck, rubbing it encouragingly as he continued to nibble, kiss, and suck down to Snitch's shoulder, then traced a tongue along his collarbone. Skittery was attentive, and Snitch couldn't help but wonder if he had put a great deal of thought into what he would do if -- or when -- Snitch said yes.
They kissed and necked through "She's Leaving Home," Snitch relaxing enough to return some of the treatment Skittery had given him while Skittery worked him down to his boxers, so they were on equal ground. Snitch loved the clean taste of Skittery's skin, although it had begun to take on a musky, salty taste. That only served to encourage him further, and he was still completely in his comfort zone, so he moved on to kissing down Skittery's torso, nuzzling his chest, experimentally licking at his nipples, and eliciting moans and soft cries that mixed wonderfully with the music of "Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite." Snitch took his time in exploring Skittery's body, indulging a few of his own curiosities and fantasies, running his tongue around Skittery's navel and nuzzling the light trail of hair that began there and disappeared into Skittery's shorts, which were quite tented. Down that low Snitch breathed in the heady, distinct scent of arousal, and a shock went through him; he wasn't entirely sure where to go now.
Skittery urged him back up and kissed him again, then made sure Snitch was still completely willing, to which Snitch left no doubts that he was. Skittery then ran his hands over Snitch's body, rubbing and stroking in rhythm with the sitars and drums of "Within You, Without You." It was an incredibly erotic sensation, watching Skittery bob and sway almost like an exotic dancer, his lips skimming over Snitch's body, occasionally pausing to nibble what seemed like an especially sensitive spot -- and he seemed to know where they all were, as Snitch would cry out and grip the sheets at each one, which seemed more intense than the last. A gentle bite to each nipple, nibbles over his belly, fingers digging into his hips, then a hand cupping over his boxers and squeezing his erection, which caused Snitch to spread his legs and cry out pleadingly.
"Skitts! Please," he panted, staring at him wide-eyed, his chest now heaving. He always knew he was sensitive, even easily aroused, but Skittery seemed to know how to exploit it best, and was making him insane with need.
"All right," Skittery whispered, skimming his fingers back up Snitch's body, still in time with the hypnotic music and George Harrison's eerily erotic voice. On the way back down, Skittery hooked Snitch's boxers and eased them over his erection and off. Snitch had anticipated such a thing and expected embarrassment, but instead, he just wanted Skittery to touch him, suck him, do whatever to him.
Skittery obliged, after removing his own shorts, although in doing so he robbed Snitch of a chance to get a good look at him. He gripped Snitch's cock and Snitch yelled, just as the song was ending, so it sounded especially loud. "Shh," Skittery chided him, stroking him a bit, then leaning down to tease the head of his cock with his tongue. He then took Snitch into his mouth, moaning approvingly around him, a sound which Snitch echoed as the songs changed again. Snitch could tell Skittery was trying hard not to bob his head in time with the rhythm of "When I'm Sixty-four," but it was rather difficult, and soon they were both giggling like crazy again, the giggling interspersed with a few groans and sighs.
"Let me," Snitch finally managed to get out, urging Skittery up. Skittery laid next to him, chuckling.
"You think you can do it and not be a slave to the beat of that fucking song?" Skittery asked, wiping his mouth.
"I can try," Snitch said with a smile, gazing down at Skittery's erection and feeling a thrill of renewed arousal go through him. This was the first time he had seen an aroused man so close, and it essentially clarified any notions he had in his head about preferences one way or another. He gamely gripped the base of Skittery's cock and ran his tongue hesitantly around the head, finding it tasted much as it had smelled, which was a good thing indeed. After a bit of experimentation, all of which drew gasps and moans of pleasure from Skittery, Snitch slipped his mouth over Skittery's cock. Thankfully, the song had changed to, "Lovely Rita," so he had no chance to test his rhythm against the previous song.
"Cheating bastard," Skittery groaned fondly, holding onto the back of Snitch's head to give him a bit of coaching and guidance. It didn't take him long to catch on, and in even less time he was fully enjoying himself. Snitch had a feeling he had just found a new favorite pastime. He became so involved in the feeling of Skittery's smooth, wet skin slipping over his tongue, the head hitting the back of his mouth, the challenge tilting his head to just the right angle and trying to take him down his throat, and savoring the occasional salty burst of fluid running over his tongue and down his throat that Skittery had to pull his head away. "You're going to kill me," Skittery panted, sitting back and trying to get his breath.
A rooster crowed from the CD player, and they both laughed again as "Good Morning, Good Morning" began. "Not quite Barry White, is it?" Snitch quipped, laying down next to Skittery, still breathing hard as well.
Skittery sat up and dug around on the side of the bed for a moment, producing some lubricant. He raised a questioning eyebrow, making sure one last time, and Snitch nodded his consent. "I don't think the Beatles ever claimed to be a soundtrack for sex," Skittery said, smirking as he moved over Snitch. Snitch nervously spread his legs and allowed Skittery to move between them. The music talk was actually helping to calm his nerves, so he kept it up.
"I don't know, Rubber Soul might have been a more appropriate choice," Snitch mused as Skittery did whatever he needed to do down there. He gasped when he suddenly felt a cold, slippery finger rubbing against him, then pressing in. All thoughts of Beatles albums flew out of his head at that moment, and he panted wildly, trying to relax around the invading finger, which felt intense, and strange, but insanely good at the same time. The reprise of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band," helped bring him back into the moment, and under the song he could hear Skittery talking to him.
"Breathe, Snitch, don't stop breathing on me, man," he cajoled, and just when Snitch thought he had things under control, Skittery began to move his finger. Snitch cried out, gripping the sheets and trying desperately to stay still. Suddenly Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band was the most erotic thing Snitch had ever heard in his life, and he was staring up into Skittery's eyes, and rocking his hips, demanding more, and more, and more.
Skittery chuckled, and Snitch really couldn't tell what he was doing, but it just got more intense and felt even better, sparks of pleasure coursing through him, and making him yelp, and cry out, and moan. He couldn't stop himself or make himself quiet, and he eventually stopped trying.
Eventually Skittery slowed down a bit, then stopped. "You doing okay?" he asked, pausing so Snitch could recover a bit. He hadn't removed his fingers, and feeling them within him, even still, was incredibly intense.
"Yeah," Snitch gasped, as the music quieted into "A Day In The Life."
"Ready for more?" Skittery asked, wiggling his fingers a little.
"Oh hell yeah," Snitch replied. Skittery began to move his fingers again, the feelings intensifying once more, and Snitch found himself wondering how many fingers Skittery had inside him. It had to be at least six or seven. Snitch began to buck his hips, losing track of all thought except for what was happening down below, and vaguely hearing a crescendo coming from the speakers that he couldn't help but think was what an orgasm must sound like.
Suddenly, just like on the song, everything went quiet, and the sensations were gone, and Skittery was leaning over him, stroking his face with his clean hand.
"What happened?" Snitch nearly shrieked.
"Shh, nothing yet," Skittery chuckled, and Snitch could see Skittery was running his hand that was gleaming with lube over his own erection. "But I figured I'd best stop before you came all over the place."
"Thanks," Snitch panted, trying to think of a good way to ask what the hell he had done, but decided against it.
"Think you're ready?" Skittery asked, pushing Snitch's leg back again.
"Yeah," Snitch replied, grabbing onto his leg with one hand, and the sheets with another, his quivering muscles and rebelling reflexes not helping much.
"Here goes," Skittery grunted, and Snitch felt pressure again, and then that intense feeling once more, except not quite so intense, and he knew exactly what was causing it. That thought nearly sent him over the edge, but he concentrated on the music, and the loud crescendo that was building again, and when he felt Skittery's body bump against his, he realized Skittery was all the way inside of him. Snitch then forgot about the music and became lost in the moment, and in Skittery's eyes. "Skitts... Jesus..."
Skittery just smiled a little, obviously concentrating and lost in the feeling himself. Eventually he pulled back and gave a tentative thrust, which made Snitch yelp, and begin to breathe with huge, gulping breaths.
"Breathe with the music," Skittery whispered, and Snitch vaguely realized that the CD had started over. That helped a little, and the thrusts came in time with the music, and Snitch's eyes sank closed and he gave himself over to all of it. It grew more and more intense, and the music began to disappear again as every sense in Snitch's body focused on Skittery. He knew he was making noise, but he could barely hear himself, and he jumped when a new sensation startled him, and he realized it was a hand on his cock, slick with lube, squeezing and stroking him, and that was all it took.
He thought he screamed Skittery's name, or he hoped he did, and he felt his cock twitch and wetness splatter onto his heaving belly, and the clenching that always felt so good when he came while jerking off felt a hundred times better because he was clenching around something overwhelmingly thick and it was Skittery, and that made it a thousand times better.
"Breathe, Snitch," Skittery repeated the mantra quietly as he pulled out. Snitch didn't realize he had been holding his breath again until gasped at that feeling, which prompted tremors like an aftershock through his entire body and a tiny twitch of his spent cock.
"Trying," Snitch replied when he could form words again. He then discovered he was still gripping the sheets, and his knuckles were white and his hand was sore. There were red marks on his thigh where his fingers had been digging in, and he was insanely grateful that he had a habit of biting his nails down to nothing.
"You okay?" Skittery asked, grabbing a few tissues from the side of the bed and wiping off Snitch's stomach and his cock.
"Yeah," Snitch said with a breathless smile. "Wasn't anything like I'd imagined."
"I hope that's a good thing," Skittery said, throwing the tissues away and flopping down next to Snitch, pulling him close.
"No, it's a good thing," Snitch replied, resting his head in the crook of Skittery's shoulder, although he couldn't resist flicking his tongue out to taste a bit of Skittery's sweat. "I just bet there aren't too many people who lost their virginity to Sgt. Pepper's."
"Well, maybe not in this day and age," Skittery replied, stroking Snitch's back. "Just goes to show how worldly we are."
"Is that what it is?" Snitch asked, sighing contentedly. "I'll never listen to this album the same way again."
"Me neither," Skittery replied.
So they lay together, talking about the Beatles, and which albums would make better soundtracks for sex, and determined that they would need to experiment more for a conclusive answer. "What do you think we should try next?" Skittery asked. "Abbey Road? Rubber Soul? Revolver?"
"Hmm," Snitch pondered, tracing an idle design on Skittery's chest. "Let's wait until the next song is over before we decide," he said finally, and they shared a kiss as "Getting Better" came on once again.
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