A/N: This is dedicated to my fic wife, Mattie Hale. It was meant to be a birthday present but seeing as I'm so fail, I didn't have it finished by her birthday. Hope you like it bb! Oh, and there's gonna be a part three. I didn't wanna write the buttsecks scene in this chapter. Anyway, enjoy!

Whitlock's slanted in the doorway of his bedroom: arms folded across his chest, head tilted to one side, pink lips curled lightly in a lazy grin.

He's staring at me.

And fuck, I feel so self-conscious right now, it's not even funny.

What the hell was I thinking, coming back to his house with him? I can't let him fuck me, I mean, Jesus, doesn't that shit hurt? My ass has never had as much as a pinky finger shoved up it, and I haven't seen the guy's dick – well, not properly anyway – but going by what I felt of it through his pants?

Wow.

And ouch.

Christ, he's still staring at me.

I know I'm blushing like crazy right now, and I feel like a fucking virgin girl just sitting on his bed all nervous and shit.

Trying to look at anything else but him and his blond ponytail, my eyes dart around his room. I look over to the window. To the wall opposite his bed. To the shelf where numerous trophies and awards stand, proudly on display. To the doorway – where he's standing…

Shit!

Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? The hand job he gave me in Jacob Black's bathroom must have gotten me high or something.

And great, thinking about that is making me even more tomato faced. And hard.

I glance up at him from the corner of my eye.

His grin widens, showing off his even, white teeth.

"What?" I ask, lowering my eyes to my feet.

He snorts. Raises an eyebrow. "Did I say something?"

"No, but why are you looking at me like that?"

He chuckles.

I hear him move away from the doorway, hear his socked feet padding across the laminated floor of his bedroom – and then I'm suddenly staring at them.

He's standing in front of me now, his crotch perfectly leveled with my face – with my mouth.

I swallow so hard my Adam's apple bobs.

And he snickers.

"Relax, Cullen," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The action is obviously deliberate, because it makes his jeans tighter along the front, and then he pushes his hips forward so he's closer to my face – emphasizing the large, cock-shaped bulge protruding at the front of his pants.

Fuck.

I just jizzed all over his hand about half an hour ago, and yet, I'm harder than a steel rod right now. The thought alone of his dick, just inches before my lips –

His forefinger is suddenly under my chin, and he tilts my head back so I'm looking up at his pretty face. He stares at me again, serious now though, blue eyes slow lidded, pink bottom lip sucked into his mouth.

Christ, he's hot.

So fucking hot I think I groan a little.

"Damn," he murmurs, his Southern twang emphasized. His other hand brushes my hair back from my forehead. "Your blush is a real fucking turn on, you know? Who would have thought that Edward Cullen, Spartans star Running Back, is really a shy, innocent twink?" He chuckles softly then and fists my hair.

"Shit…" I breathe. It feels so good I get goosebumps on my arms, the hairs stand on end.

"Like having your hair pulled, Cullen?" He asks.

I nod.

He smirks. "Me too. Why'd you think I keep the ponytail?"

Jesus Christ, he's...

"So fucking hot."

He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples denting his smooth cheeks. "Yeah? You're pretty fucking hot yourself."

And then he crouches so his mouth is now inches before mine.

His hand still gripping my hair, he leans towards me, lips puckered and pink and pouty, head tilting to one side, eyes closing...

And he kisses me, slowly, languidly, tongue reaching into my mouth and mingling with mine, and his lips are soft and moist and full as they gently press against mine, his chin silky smooth, brushing against my stubbled one.

"Mmmm," he hums.

His other hand snakes behind my neck and he tilts his head more, pushes his tongue deeper into my mouth, kisses me a little rougher, his breathing starts to come out in ragged pants.

And then he pulls back a little so his face is a few inches away.

"Ok, here's the deal," he whispers breathlessly. "As much as I'd love to fuck your tight little ass, right now, you've never done it before, right?"

I nod, face starting to flush again.

"And we've got a game tomorrow," – he smirks – "you're gonna need to be able to run."

Shit. Definitely feeling like a virgin now.

"So…" he continues, "how about you fuck me instead?" He waits a moment, watching my face for my reaction, I guess, before he adds, "just this once though. I don't bottom." He grins. "Much."

I think my jaw drops, because he chuckles, leaning in to kiss me again, shoving his tongue in my mouth, tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth.

When he pulls away again, we're both breathless.

"So?" He asks, eyebrows lifting. "You gonna plow my ass, or what?"

Holy fuck.

My cock throbs in answer to his question.

I swallow. Unintentionally shift my hips a little. My tongue wets my bottom lip. "Ok."

"Good," he replies, bright blue eyes zeroing in on my mouth, on the spot I just licked. "And, since I'm not gonna fuck your pretty little ass," – his index finger reaches out to trace the shape of my lips – "I get to fuck your pretty little mouth instead."

Honestly, I almost cream myself at the thought of that, at his words. This time, I definitely groan a little.

And he groans too.

Then he stands up abruptly, fingers deftly unbuttoning his jeans and tugging down his fly, pulls down his boxers –

And holy fucking shit.

I've watched a lot of porn. Like, seriously, a fuckload of it. And I've seen a lot of pretty cocks in them, cocks that I look at and think, 'yeah, I'd definitely wanna suck on that,' but his?

If it was a giant, cherry flavored blow pop, it couldn't look more tempting.

The guy's dick is fucking… perfect.

It's long and straight.

It's pretty thick too.

The head of his cock is a dark pink – same color as his lips actually.

His pubes are all trimmed.

And his balls are like, hairless.

Fuck, this is making me all self conscious about my junk now. I mean, I thought mine was pretty big, and I don't have a perfect, pornstar-looking cock or anything, but I thought my cock looked good.

But now? Compared to his?

His throaty chuckle snaps me out of my thoughts and my eyes lift to look up at him.

His eyelids are low as he looks back at me, half grinning, left hand reaching for his cock and squeezing. "Jesus, Cullen," he mutters, and my eyes involuntarily drift back down to his cock as his hand begins travelling up and down the long, thick shaft. "What is this, payback for all the times I pissed you off?"

"Huh?" I ask, 'cause that's pretty much as articulate as I can get right now.

He looks down at himself, at his hand fisting his cock, at his hips pushing forward slightly with each stroke, and then he glances back up at me, pointedly, through wisps of blond hair that have fallen out of his ponytail.

"You know," he says. "Staring at my cock doesn't make it suck itself." He winks. "And trust me, I've tried that."

I roll my eyes at that and he grins.

"But, seriously, Cullen, this is the part where you suck my cock. My balls feel like they're about to explode."

And honestly, I'd kind of forgotten that that was what I was meant to be doing in the first place. I can feel my face starting to burn again and I swear, I'm really starting to hate my fucking blood.

I don't know how to start, I mean, what do I do? He's already standing up in front of me; I can probably lean forward and easily start sucking on his dick but that probably wouldn't be too comfortable for my neck. I figure I should probably get on my knees.

Slowly, I start to shift off the edge of his bed. My hands are all trembling and clammy so I wipe them on the back of my pants. Whitlock just watches my every move, hand still pumping his cock, hips still thrusting, still fucking his hand – and it's really distracting, by the way.

I get down on my knees in front of him.

"Hold on," he says. His jeans and underwear have fallen around his ankles so he sort of shuffles over to the side of me, reaches for a pillow from his bed, tosses it on the floor before me.

I frown at it. "What's this for?"

He stares at me for a beat longer than necessary, eyelids so low the blue of his eyes are barely visible, hand still stroking away. And then he smirks. "For your knees, twink. That wooden floor can't be too comfortable."

"Oh." I peek up at his face. Clear my throat. "Uh, thanks."

He smiles. "You're real cute, Cullen."

My blood decides to rush to my face again. "Fuck," I mutter.

Whitlock's hand starts to pumps faster. He groans. He's gasping in between words as he says, "You know what I wanna do to you when your face goes all red like that?"

"What?"

"I wanna fuck your mouth, see how red you get when you're choking on my cock. And then I wanna come in your mouth, and all over your face. I wanna see my cum dripping off those rosy cheeks of yours, sliding down your chin. I wanna –" He gasps. Stops jerking for a few seconds. Starts up again at a slower pace. Grins at me. "Shit. Almost came. And that would've been a waste, wouldn't it?"

I moan. My cock answers again, with a twitch that makes me jerk my hips just so I can give it a bit of friction.

And soon, Whitlock's strokes start to get fast again. He can't even talk anymore, I guess, 'cause all he's doing is moaning, letting out the occasional, "oh, yeah", blue eyes rolling back.

I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing now. I'm on a pillow on my knees in front of him and he's jerking off right in front of my face, but I thought I was meant to be sucking him off? I mean, I want to suck him off. I'm so horny right now I don't know what to do with myself.

My hips shift again involuntarily.

Whitlock's eyes are closed now. His head hangs forward instead of tipping back, like mine probably would. He has this sexy half grin on his pink lips.

I watch him as he jerks off, transfixed, hand stroking my own hard, aching cock over my jeans, hips lifting to match his thrusts into his hand.

"Open your mouth."

His voice is low, hoarse with lust, so fucking sexy that I completely ignore what he's saying. I groan, start fumbling with my belt buckle – and am completely taken by surprise when he yanks at my hair.

"Shit!" I cry out. It hurts, but in a really fucking good way.

He keeps his hold on my hair and my eyes are rolling, my jaw drops, I'm moaning in ecstasy –

And then my moan is muffled as Whitlock stuffs his huge cock in my mouth.

I gag, naturally, but it's only because I wasn't ready for it.

"Aw yeah." Whitlock's euphoric moan sounds really fucking Southern – and hot as hell.

I pull back a little, flick my tongue over the smooth skin of his cock. It tastes… salty, I guess, but not bad.

Whitlock is groaning now. His fingers tighten in my hair. His hips thrust ever so slightly.

And I like it. His reaction is the biggest turn on I've ever had.

His hips jerk again, harder this time, and I gag for a second time as his cock reaches the back of my throat.

"Sorry," he murmurs. He stills, fisting my hair like his life depends on it. "I'm really fucking close though."

I lift my palms up, position them at his hips, move them round to his ass…

I feel it, firm, flexing as he thrusts into my mouth yet again. I don't gag this time though.

Instead, I start sucking on his dick, sucking on it like I'd suck on a tootsie pop, hard, my lips wrapping around it, pulling back to the head and pushing forward as far as I can manage, running my tongue back and forth and around, flicking the tip of my tongue in the slit, licking as if it's leaking chocolate.

I've seen this being done in porn tons of times, and sure it turns me on, but that's because I imagine that I'm the one getting sucked off. I never thought it would be so fucking hot to be the one doing the sucking.

But it is. It so fucking is. Especially as Whitlock's legs are starting to tremble, as his abs and ass cheeks start to tighten, as he starts murmuring my name.

I take his dick out of my mouth after a while 'cause my jaw needs a fucking break, but then I start stroking his balls, stroking the space underneath his balls – and I have to hiss before he releases his vice grip on my hair a little.

Then he stuns me again.

Suddenly, he yanks his cock away from my lips, just as I'm about to put it back in my mouth, gives it a few quick pumps, seemingly transferring his vice grip to his shaft.

And then – oh shit.

I feel a small spurt of warm liquid hit my cheek, and I know what's coming next. Instinctively I close my eyes, even though I'd love to watch his face as he comes, 'cause jizz in your eye stings like a bitch. I should know.

I hear Whitlock jerking it a few more times, feel a few more little drops hit my face –

And he's coming.

All over my face, like he said he would, letting out this deep sigh as he does, holding my head in place so I don't move away. Then, when he's finished spraying what felt like a bucket of cum on my face, I feel the tip of his dick, wet, prodding my closed lips.

"Open up," he murmurs.

I part my lips and he slides his leaking cock over them slowly, side to side, giving me a jizz lipgloss.

"Lick it off," he says.

So I do.

It tastes… I dunno, weird, I guess. But I don't mind it. I mean, fuck, that was the hottest thing I've ever experienced and I haven't even gotten off yet. In fact, I don't actually mind that I haven't gotten off.

I open my eyes to find Whitlock grinning down at me, all dimples and post orgasm flush.

"Wow," he mutters. "Hottest fucking thing I've ever seen. Edward Cullen's face all covered in my cum." His hand, still holding my head by my hair, tilts my face up. "Can I take a picture?"

I shake my head out of his grasp. "Fuck no."

He laughs. "Why not? I'd keep it all to myself –"

"No way."

"Why not?" He asks again.

"Because… I dunno, I just don't feel comfortable with that."

"Scared the guys on the team'll find it?"

I frown. "No."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure." Loses the grin. "You ever gonna come out?"

"Of course I am."

"When?"

"When I'm fucking ready. Now, can you get me something to wipe my face? This shit's starting to dry."

In one swift movement, he tugs his t shirt off over his head and hands it to me.

He steps out of his jeans and boxers and kicks them away.

And then he's fully naked, all lean muscles and tan skin shimmering with sweat.

And my cock reminds me that I haven't gotten off, suddenly pulsing and heavy in my pants.

Whitlock snickers, takes his t shirt back out of my hand. "You're an eye slut," he says.

"Excuse me?"

"You eyefuck too much. If you wanna stay hiding in your little closet you need to make it less obvious."

"What? Am I really that obvious?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "To me you are. But then again, my gaydar's pretty fucking good. Now hold still, my cum's starting to dry on your face – fuck, that sounds hot." He wipes my face with his t shirt, tugs me up by the arms so I stand. My knees ache a little. "You ok?" he asks as I rub at them.

"Knees are a little sore."

"Yeah, imagine if you didn't have the pillow."

He grabs my jeans by the belt loops, tugs me closer with his index fingers, his nose brushing mine.

"Get naked," he whispers.

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm getting all self conscious here, in the nude while you're fully clothed. Being constantly eyefucked like a piece of meat…" He smirks.

I blush. Look down at my feet. Start stuttering out an apology.

"I'm kidding," he interrupts. "I love being eyefucked. I want you to come shower with me."

"Why?"

He sighs. "You ask a lot of fucking questions, Cullen. See this," he grabs my extremely hard and now painfully sensitive cock and I hiss, half out of pleasure, half out of pain. "This needs taking care of, right?"

I nod.

"So get in the fucking shower with me."

-x-