A/N: NC-17: Do not read if you are under 18.
Brian's POV of what may or could have happened at the end of episode 214.
This was the first fan fic I EVER wrote. I tried to stay true to the characters even though it's a side of them we did not get to see (a shame I tell you) very often. Reviews are welcome and please forgive me for the mistakes you will find (English is not my first language).
DEAL
When he rolled me over I couldn't believe what was happening, what was about to happen. I gave him a warning look saying "what the fuck do you think you're doing"? All he did was look at me, intensively, softly. He gave me a reassuring kiss and I executed. I knew he needed it. Not just to fuck me but to be a top. He needed to prove to me and most importantly to himself that accepting money from me, from someone else, from his lover was not making him weak, that he was not selling himself off. He needed to prove that he was still a man.
I knew he needed to be the top this time, not the bottom. I already was dominating in our fucking, dominating him by experience and my success. Right now he needed me to show him that I was not dominating him with the money.
It was also a way to seal our pact. The same way we sealed our covenant a few months ago by a kiss, a kiss that I - being the one accepting the rules- initiated. This time, he was the one sealing the loan deal by initiating our session.
I rolled on my stomach trying to get myself in a comfortable position: a physical and emotional, comfortable position. I was on my belly, head and arms among the soft pillows creating a safe place where I could hide; where I could hide my face from Justin and hide my vulnerability from him and the rest of the world. I knew it was only the two of us in this loft but it was still like I could be seen by everyone.
I mentally prepared myself for the stinging and burning feeling I would automatically have. It was part of the game, part of the gay sex life but also, he did not prepared me. No rimming, no fingering, no lube. No time. He needed this, he needed it now. It was not as much physical urge as an emotional one. He still chose the lubricated condom. Thank god!
He knew it's been a long time for me. He knew it was a big deal in my world and he was ever so careful when he penetrated me. I was in a burning hell and I couldn't help myself from wincing a bit. But I am also a master in hiding my emotions even when there is no audience. I can keep my mask on even if I'm the only one in the room. No better way to make the others believe than to fool yourself first.
He probably noticed it though or just guessed. He started stroking my side, tracing gently a circle with his flat hand on my ribcage. He brought his head closer to mine.
And then I was leaving Hell for Heaven. Well, not entirely, but I felt his warmth surrounding me inside and out, his soft skin on my back, his soft hand on my side.
He started slowly, ever so slowly, pulling out, never stopping tracing circles and, while sliding in, he placed kisses at the base of my neck and on the top of my right shoulder, light sweet kisses.
He continued sliding at a smooth rhythm, the hand that had being on my side having been moved to my hip. Immediately after he was fully in again, he stroke my thigh on the side too. He kissed my shoulder blade and spine provoking it so it sends chills.
He kept the same pace, gently and easily sliding in and out, never slamming inside me, and never stopping the stroking of my outer skin. He moved his head a bit further, pressing his temple against the side of my head. I could feel his hot breath on my skin, I could hear his breathing and little gasps. He was keeping quiet and so was I, but he was so close I could still hear them, sense them.
He kissed my hair and the end of my jaw near my ear. His right hand gradually moving up my body, caressing my thigh, hip, stomach, ribcage, chest.
He moved his left hand that he had kept on the mattress as he had been balancing his weight on his elbow and brought it near my head, joining my left arm. He took it in a grip, rubbed his thumb on it, then joined my hand and intertwined our fingers, bringing our hands a bit closer to my left shoulder.
We made no sounds except for our breathing and occasionally light gasps and moans. Well, I wouldn't call the very few and very light noises I was emitting during my exhalation process moans or pants or anything like that. It was more like the sound you make when you exhale after keeping your breath in for a little moment, when you keep your lungs from filling again right after they emptied.
I could feel the wetness on my belly, my cock hardened and throbbing.
During the entire process we had slowly rolled a bit on the left side. He was still on top of me and I started to notice the weight more and more. I think he unconsciously understood or maybe he just wanted to change the position because a long moment after we started the all thing, I don't real know how to call what was happening, he tightened the grip he had on my chest and carefully rolled us entirely on our left sides. The duvet was being pushed on the right side by our feet in the process.
By getting me on my side, Justin put me out of my shelter made of pillows. No more covers for me now, dammit.
But I guess having pillows placed beneath his body and making him higher on the bed will give him better leverage to hump me...
Our left hands were still entwined as his forearm offered my head comfort, while his own head was pressing against my ear. I totally forgot that our hands were joined together until we moved to our side and I had to readjust my shoulder position. I guess when my arm was folded towards me, above my head, I was fine but I had to make sure to pivot my shoulder and fold my arm in two so that, once we turned, my elbow was close to my chest and my forearm directed upward. It was an unconscious movement but now my head rested on his forearm, and I couldn't help but notice our laced hands in front of me.
He got rid of his sweatpants while we slightly folded our knees, and now he was even more encased in me. Even our fucking legs and feet were in contact. We were almost like in a fucking foetus position. There was not one spot of the back of my body or the front of his not touching the other. His chest was firmly pressing onto my back, his groin pressing against my ass, the front of his left thigh burning the back of mine. As for the right one, the fucking twat had spread it on mine, encircling it!
The lower parts of our bodies seemed to move on their own accord: knees extending their bending, the big bones of our ankles touching, his toes caressing the plant of my foot or my calves... you name it!
The little asshole was embracing me and didn't give any part of my body a rest. Well, I guess this time I was the little asshole...
Justin kissed my cheekbone, my ear, the spot right below it, the right end of my jaw, my neck, my hair, my shoulder. One soft sweet wet kiss at a time. Going down and then up again. His right hand kept on roaming my entire body. I had stopped being aware of the rubbing, too focused on the kisses, but it didn't stop nevertheless. I realized it because Justin was regularly changing the spots his hand was touching, while he was also changing the way he touched me. While his hand was on my hip helping him sliding up in, it was his thumb that was stroking my skin. Up and down movements. While his hand moved downward to my thigh, he was using his palm to slide against my warm skin. Then, when he was going from the side of my thigh to the front of it, his hand was folding and pivoting so that he could rub his fingers up and down, palm on the exterior.
When his hand was on my stomach or my chest or my side he was moving in circles. His hand fully stretched so that everything was in contact: fingertips, fingers, palm and even his wrist.
After a while he placed his hand on my groin offering a welcome pressure. He carefully circled his fingertips around the end of my shaft just below the head. He squeezed a little bit and I couldn't restrain a soft moan as I clenched the hand he was holding in a fist. I thought that maybe he was finally going to give to the only part of my body he didn't touch yet, a bit of most deserved and welcomed attention. It was without considering the sweet torture he was offering me from the beginning. He moved his thumb to the head and cautiously rubbed it. The slit opened up and the slick liquid escaped a bit more. Again, I whimpered. While torturing me down there, Justin was also torturing me upstairs, never stopping his feathery kisses on my face, shoulder and neck.
He slid his fingers along my cock on an impossibly slower motion until he reached the base. Then, he cupped my balls and pressed them against his palm while, in the meantime, he was licking my ear from the top to the earlobe, of course, not forgetting any curves inside or out. Jesus, will he ever give me a break!
And then, after placing a soft kiss on the earlobe, he took it between his teeth, bit gently and closed his lips on it, rubbing it against them while his tongue bathed it from the inside before swallowing it a bit further into his mouth, so he could leisurely suck it. It felt so good and the little bastard knew it. He tickled my balls, squeezed one more time and left the area. He didn't even pump my dick once. Not even one fucking time!
I felt him move his left arm from underneath my head. I thought he was getting numb and lifted my head up. Big mistake! He used this as a chance to suck even more eagerly on my earlobe. Was he trying to drink the blood out of it? I was sure he'd manage to do that if he didn't stop. Our hands were still slightly forming a fist. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, beating loudly but strangely calmly, like if each strong heartbeat was taking an interval from the other.
He continued his long and steady motion in my ass. Pulling almost out and gliding in again in the same rhythm. I'd never have guessed he would have been able to keep the pace he had established from the beginning. I thought that offering the little boy the opportunity to fuck me would have set him on fire and that he would have started to slam into me a long time ago. I even thought wickedly that maybe he would not even last long. But he had been going on a leisure pace for a while now and didn't seem near completion or to feel the need to accelerate.
He brushed each time now against my prostate, stimulating it but not so much that the thrilling feeling stay long. Torture I'm telling you! He's evil! Everybody thinks I'm the bad one but they are all wrong. He's the one offering me no relief, making me feel what I never meant nor wanted to feel. For Christ's sake, he convinced me to let him take me! Without even a word! I at least have the decency to put him out of his misery every single chance I've got. I mean, he desires my cock in his mouth: as the true gentleman I am, I let him suck me. He needs me inside him, well who am I to refuse the kid the scratching? And I do the job well and fast. Well, depending on the mood. I guess I pulled out some sweet torture on the guy few times too. But hey, he accepted the game. Loved it too. But I, well, have been tortured for a long time now. It's been what, hours? Minutes? I lost track of time I guess.
I lost track of time trying so desperately to control my feelings and thoughts. I have never felt as much at ease and as much uncomfortable in my entire life. It's been coming in waves. Comfortable /terribly uncomfortable. Loving it / wanting to get the fuck out of here, well wanting him to get the fuck out of there, of me. Is it weird that I wanted to leave this bed and never let anything like this happen again and in the same time never wanting it, him, to stop?
Like if I didn't feel confused and vulnerable enough, he lifted his right hand from my hip and reached my face, caressing it with the back of his fingers. I reached for it with my right hand, trying to get him to leave my face the fuck alone. Hell, where had this hand been? Why didn't I use it before to jerk myself off? To push him away from my earlobe, from me? I guess it was too busy resting on his thigh and hip or on the bed in front of me. Stupid hand. Useless.
He took my chin between his thumb and second finger and tilted it gently on the right and slightly pulling it down so he could have access to more skin.
I think that's when I realized we had a height difference. I didn't really notice it until now. I mean yeah I know I'm taller, I noticed it before, but it stroke me just back then, that in bed, this difference is shown in a different manner. When I'm behind, I can put my chin on his head if I want to. He often rest his head on my shoulder. I have to tilt down my head in order to catch his lips, to kiss him on the neck, on the shoulders. I have to bend my knees when we fuck standing. He, on the other end, has no problem biting or kissing my shoulder, my neck, my chin, my collarbone. It's easier to reach them for him. When we stand, those are even the only places he can touch if I'm not reaching down. Here, on the bed, I did not notice or maybe it didn't show because we were lightly folded and it seems that we were on a same level. But when I looked down to our legs I saw that mine were more folded than his. My feet were drawn backwards, toward him and that's why he could put his on mine. I guess that's a way to eliminate the height problem. But he still couldn't rest his chin on my head or kiss my temple. And he needed me to cooperate and bend my head a little to access to some parts of my face.
He placed kisses on the right side of my face, on the corner of my mouth, of the edge of my nose, on its side, on my cheek, on my right eye, forcing me to close it –not that I mind, I've been closing my eyes a lot of times now, sometimes for a long time, uncontrollably and also not knowing what else to do. I asked myself what was the best: to close my eyes and let him think that I was enjoying this, whatever this is, or to not close my eyes and let him see that I was actually enjoying it? Which solution would make me feel less naked?
If I closed my eyes maybe I could pretend I was not there, I could pretend that I was not feeling anything, that he was not there, that he was not in me, that he could not look at me and see me. But to stay in control, maybe it was better to keep my eyes opened. At least I could see what he was doing, what he was doing to me. I could stop him before... before what? He was already in me, in control of my movements, in charge of our session. But maybe, with my eyes open, I would not feel as much as when my eyes were closed. Because when they were closed, one of my senses was out and the blindness intensified the other senses. I could feel my dry throat, the bitter taste on my tongue, the paste taste. I could hear him breathe deeply against me and I could hear my own breathing, strong and in the same time long and relaxed, because I was not furnishing a lot of efforts here, at least not physical ones. I could feel our skins stuck together, the pearls of sweat forming and rolling on my forehead, on the small of my back, on the back of my neck, just below my hair, behind my knees. I could feel my precum running out of the slit and along the shaft. I could feel his breath on my face, his warmth surrounding me. I could feel his hand on me, fingertips, palm, nails, knuckles, anything that was in contact with me. I even could feel his feet and toes brushing against mine. I could feel his heart beating in his chest against my back and I could even hear it in my head, like a song that I could mumble. I was even able to match its rhythm with my own heart. How silly is that? No, sometimes it was better to have my eyes open. Plus, with my face on the side, he could not see my eyes- at least not stare in them.
While stroking my hair, starting from the top of my head near my forehead to the one above my ear with his entire hand, the stupid right hand that was two seconds ago on my jaw, he continued to place wet kisses with his delicious lips. I desire those lips; all the time. I agreed not to kiss anyone else because I knew that yeah, I did not have the choice if I wanted to keep him in my loft, in my bed, in my life, but also because I knew his lips would be enough. I could never feel what I feel when I kiss him with anyone else. I kissed hundreds of guys and even a few girls but I never felt "it" with any of them. Don't ask me what "it" is because I don't have a fucking clue, I just know it's different. I feel something. And it's not just the twitching feeling in my crotch -I get it every single time though. It's something else.
Then, he cupped the left side of my face in his hand, still the evil right one, and turned it completely towards him, making sure that I kept it inclined down. He was trying to hover over me with his face and I could see him clearly. It was then that I realized it was daylight. Right, it was morning or maybe lunchtime now. For how long had this thing been going on?
So I reluctantly looked at his face – in the same time wanting to see him, yep, I was definitely conflicted- a bit startled by what I saw. I'm not sure what I expected. Maybe a devilish grin bragging "Ah ah finally I succeeded, I'm fucking you, you are a bottom". Maybe a sweet smile, reassuring me, telling me it was okay. Maybe the "flushed, parted lips, half closed eyes" look, the one you get when you are enjoying yourself. Maybe even a loving look, the one that he has a lot of time when he is with me, especially in private moments, especially when he thinks I am not looking at him, when he thinks I am not paying attention.
I was startled to see how beautiful he was (he always is, even when he clearly didn't get too much sleep). And I was surprised to see that he didn't have any of those looks I expected. Or maybe he got them all. I'm not sure. I was actually too busy trying to decide what to do with my look. I didn't even know what expressions where playing on my face. I always know which expression I'm displaying. I always know which one to use and which one is giving me away. For a control freak like me, Justin was adding pressure by turning my face to face him.
I don't bottom. I am a top. Yeah I love control and all but I just love being the top. I love having my cock in a tight ass. That's how I get off. Every single guy will understand me. Well except for those Nelly bottoms that weirdly do not seem to know what to do with their dick up an ass.
I did bottom a few times. I had to as a teenager. I started my sex life at fourteen. Do you know a lot of guys that will let themselves get impaled by a teenager? Well, I met a few. But it was mostly other teenagers or twinks. The older guys that like younger boys didn't like that. Well are we surprised? I was not. But still, it wasn't often.
As soon as I was getting the chance to top, I was doing the fucking. And with time I learn to instantly recognize the guys that will let me top even the self proclaimed tops. I nailed a lot of them. I love to reverse the roles for those men. And they love it too.
As soon as I got my reputation established I didn't have to work or ask for it any longer. They all already knew before going with me that they will not get near my ass, well except for some rimming action, if wanted by both parties. Sometimes I don't trust the guy enough to let him approach my hole. I don't want to risk him getting ideas. Of course, some of them still take their chances and ask for it but who can blame them for trying? My ass is pure perfection.
I have to admit that I don't find having a dick in my ass as bad as I like the others to think I do. Hell my friends must know I bottomed a few times myself. We all make jokes about "guys ramming into me" or "having dildos up my ass", I included. But those Nelly bottoms and I know that it's not what I am into. I will never directly ask for it, even if I might –and I say might- feel the itch and I will decline probably ever single request for it. It has to be natural like today.
Okay maybe it's not the definition most people will give to the word "natural", him pushing me so I rolled on my stomach, but it was as smooth as it could get with me and not as pushy as it could get with anyone, included Justin. Most importantly he didn't verbally ask for it. I would never express my desire verbally. I would never say "fuck me". But he does. He's not ashamed. He asks me all the time to fuck him and even tells me how to fuck him. From the very first night he did. When he wants something he says it, he asks for it. It doesn't make him weak or stupid or any less of a man.
That's what this loan was all about. I told him myself that he was a man, that he was strong and not weak for accepting my help. He wanted to show me how much of a man he was. He needed to feel in control for some time as he didn't feel in control with his financial situation. That's why I, in part, thought it was going to be hard and fast. Him showing me how good of a top he was. I know by fact that he likes being a top. With the tricks he tops. I saw it, he told me. He is a versatile.
People might think he is a bottom because he is with me. And they are right. He bottoms with me. Always. (Well except for today. This one time). He loves it. He doesn't take it up the ass because he is afraid I won't want him if he doesn't. He doesn't force himself. How could he, with me? But seriously, every gay man has to try at least one time to see what it feels like. It can feel good. It's the prostate thing. Hell every straight guy should try it. They could learn one thing or two about being a man, dealing with pain and maybe some of them will treat their partner a bit better. But Justin mostly does it and enjoys it because it's with me. Someone he cares about, someone who is good to him and good at it and also someone he can trust. That's what bottoming is clearly about for both of us. We can't deliver ourselves on a plate to a no-one without being sure that he will not hurt us and I mean physical hurt. You can pound as hard, fast, deep as you want as long as your partner is willing, enjoying and had being prepared for it. I have no doubt that with time Justin will bottom for other guys. People he can trust. The trust can come from the context, like if there is someone else you trust with you (like if I am there too) because you are sure that if something goes wrong you have back up. It can also be because you are facing a major top and he won't reverse position for you and you desperately want him. Being a versatile can have its advantages. Or he can be because you have feelings for the guy. Hopefully in Justin's case that one is reserved for me.
But what other people tend to forget or do not know is that Justin is a versatile and loves topping. He likes being in charge. I won't let him so he does it with others. Hell, I will never have let him fuck me today if he had no experience at all. Surely. Certainly. Probably.
I saw him in action. I know how he plays. I knew he had to be good because I was there most of the time when he fucked the guys. It's just the first time I get to experienced it myself.
I have to admit I'm still quite surprised. Besides his obvious current desire and need to show me he was no sissy, I always had known that he wanted to fuck me.I guess I thought that he wouldn't be able to control himself while fucking me as he had been waiting for the chance for quite a time. Actually, there were some thrusts that were quite sharp and quick and well guided, directed on the prostate. Exactly the right amount of pressure to send me to the edge, wanting for more, right before he slowed down and forced me to calm down. But every single time he just readjusted to his old motion like it was what he wanted, like he couldn't help himself.
So here we were, him deep inside, his big cock, yep definitely big enough for my asshole to wince at the entry and for me to enjoy it now and to remember it tomorrow –or should I say later today?
My face is turned towards his. I never wanted that. Ever. I fucked Justin face to face the first night because I felt that was what he needed, to see me, to be kissed. I did it without even asking him. I just felt like he, well I don't know, I just did not want him to feel like a piece of meat. It's scary and painful enough the first time. I might have actually wanted that for my first time. He deserved to have someone treating him well -at least during the fucking. High as I was, I still knew it was better for him this way. I was not wrong. He surely likes fucking face to face. Even though it's certainly not my favorite position for tricking- I even tend to avoid seeming my partner, unless it's what I exactly need to do, for the game- with Justin I don't mind. I even enjoy being able to kiss his amazing lips while screwing him. He does to.
Like me, he fucks tricks from behind. It's not that they are trolls 'cause you know, we wouldn't pick up ugly guys, but I guess it's one of the things that settle the difference between tricking and what the two of us share.
Anyway, I like seeing his face while I fuck him, suck him, kiss him. I relish in watching the display of emotions on his face. I can see exactly what he feels and I can act upon it. He has a give-away face when we are in bed. He is so open. It's quite useful because I know with certainty when he likes some of the things I'm doing and I usually do it again and again just to see his face display the same emotions. Although some times I don't really mind him watching me when we fuck, I do so other times. Those precise times, I would take him by behind. Only by behind, so he can't see what I look like, what I feel like. Because I know he can read me very well. And even if in the daily life it's not a problem because I can control my face, in bed with him it's another story. I lose myself and I can't focus on the mask and the pounding. The times I feel sad, needy, loving or vulnerable I can't have me looking at me, scrutinizing my every reaction. That's why if I am the one getting fucked it will always be by behind. With him or anyone else. I did face to face a couple of times back in the days of my teenager years and I will never do it again. I don't do on all fours either. It's not for me. It's simply not me.
But then he wanted to look at me and he did and I felt naked. I know I was naked, I stripped before going to bed, but I felt like my insides were all on the outside, laying there on the bed with us. I couldn't bear to look at him, afraid to see what he was thinking, what he was feeling, afraid to let him see me and most of all, I was scared to see my reflection in his eyes.
Though I knew how I felt -and I would have instantly known from the look on his face if he knew it too- I couldn't stand to see it. I can feel, even though I don't want to but I just can't see it. It's like when you feel like shit or when you hate yourself and you can't look in the mirror because you know what you will see and you know you won't like it. Well seeing myself in Justin's eyes is ten times worse than that.
I also didn't want him to tell me that he likes being inside me or that he loves me. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to see it. I don't want him to brag but I don't want him to be grateful or understanding or loving. But no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter what I want I know, he feels all that. I knew it back then because he was showing me. He made me feel that by every single one of his touch and kiss and now look. And God, it felt so good it hurt.
So I was lying there in his arms, make that arm, my face cupped in his hand, his thumb brushing my face the way mine always brushes his. He looked at me intently for a brief moment. Maybe seconds. But for me it felt like an eternity. He was searching for my soul or printing his mark on me or some other romantic bullshit. Christ Justin, I already know that no matter what I won't be able to forget you. You're under my skin. Have been for a long time now, but I don't need you to make sure I know it. Plus, I obviously don't want you to know it.
I think he got the idea 'cause he stopped looking at me and started pecking my lips. Gentle, quick kisses. I accepted them after maybe the second one. Can't be that easy, you know, have to make him wait, work for it...okay I responded immediately. What a wuss!
But his warm lips felt good. I needed some contact. He tasted good. He brushed his lips almost not touching mine. Then placed more define kisses on my bottom lip, taking it with him when he was leaving. Yep, definitely dry mouth. But his was wet enough and he licked my lips, rubbing his tongue ever so gently, wetting them. Always the generous one! He imprinted more deeply his lips, encasing his top one between mine. I squeezed it. He took my bottom one between his lips and did the same. He always left right before coming back. Always a teaser.
He got carried away and started kissing my face quickly and loudly before I groaned and shook my head from side to side to stop his assault and the wetness tickling my skin. His hand slid from my face and never came back, choosing to rest on my hip again. He smiled and immediately came back to my mouth.
Our lips are like magnets, attracting and never getting completely detached from one another. He darted his tongue out and let the tip brush my lips when we kissed. Our teasing was becoming more decided, more voluptuous. From quiet feathery almost not touching kisses, we added tongue brushing, crashing lips and loud separation. I turned slightly on my side, moving my back further into him to be in a position allowing better access to each other's mouth, without being painful for any of us.
Then he was licking my parted lips heavily with a flat tongue, letting his saliva rest on them. I opened my mouth a bit more and as I couldn't hold it any longer, I snaked my tongue out. I needed to participate and hearing his reaction I don't think he minded. Every single time his flat tongue licked my lips it passed on my own appendage. We soon sealed our mouths together and played with our tongues. Suddenly my mouth wasn't that dry anymore. My tongue made itself more forcefully trying to take charge. He let me. I needed it, he knew it. Period.
Sweet and slow can be nice but we had been doing that for some time now. Plus, I let him look at me. I earned it. He liked it. He moaned in my mouth, tightened his grip on my left hand, getting his nails in the flesh and tightened his grip on my hip and thrust harder. I moaned. He slid his right hand on my body starting from my hip, moving fast to my chest after passing on my stomach. He stroked sharply, pressing, almost gripping my skin, took my nipple between his thumb and second finger and squeezed hard, rolling it on his thumb like tuning a radio. I decided to finally use my right hand and settled it on the back of his head pulling him towards me, deeper on and in my mouth. He moved in my ass, not really pulling anymore, just rocking his hips and cock in me, targeting the prostate. Electricity was travelling inside our bodies leaving one of us only to enter into the other.
We broke our kiss and gasped for air. We had trouble breathing and couldn't even move our faces so, our bottom lips were still touching. He broke this last connection and replaced it by pressing his forehead against my nose. We waited few seconds to recover. He even stopped his movements inside me. Then he lifted this same forehead and rubbed his nose on my top lip and rubbed it then from the start of my nose just above my lip to the tip, our chin also rubbing in the process. After that he kissed me one more time. He resumed his previous position behind me and I turned back my face facing the sunlight.
I didn't think we could get more aroused than we already were before but this passionate kiss did the trick. As soon as Justin began to pull in and out of my body again, I brought my hand to my dick. I was so worked up I needed to touch it. I stroked it trying to match my partner's pace. He was going deeper and was emitting small growls. He joined me on my shaft with his right hand while gently biting on my shoulder. I surprised myself by meeting his thrusts, rubbing my ass against his groin, pressing against his balls. It was almost undetectable and I could not really control it. I guess I started listening to my body rather than to think. I didn't even notice at first. I certainly was hoping he wouldn't. But when out of nowhere he stopped moving his hips and kissing me, I knew I was screwed. He did notice. I waited for him to resume his motion. He waited too. Long seconds passed. He even stopped pumping my dick.
I tried to continue the stroking all by myself but his hand was on mine, clenching it, forbidding me to move. I let a grunt escape. I knew what he was doing. Did he forget who he was playing with? I am the master of mind games. I decided to keep him waiting. He wouldn't get any reaction from me. At some point he would have to resign himself and break. I guessed it would be fun to see how long he could stay still, his dick buried in my ass. But I trained the little guy well and he was playing his cards right, almost beating me up at the game. My patience was wearing thin. I needed some movements, contacts. At that moment even his hand had left my shaft. He would have to touch me if he didn't want me to go crazy.
I brought my right hand on his thigh and squeeze. No movements. I pressed my nails in the flesh. Still nothing. I did it again, this time harder. He responded by a bite on my shoulder. Quite harsh the bite by the way. I expressed my discontent by a loud growl. In order to get forgiven he kissed the wound –yeah I was sure I was getting a mark, have you seen his teeth? Then he started to lick around it, slowly moving beyond it, following the line of my shoulders, tracing a saliva path until he reached the back of my neck. Then he changed his route, tracing my spine line with his tongue while he synchronized his right hand so it would travelled at the same time and speed as his tongue, along my back. That was it. That was all the teasing I could bear. I pushed my ass backwards and rubbed it against his crotch, lightly at first and more forcefully soon after. If he wasn't going to move his dick for me, I was going to move it for him. And at this precise moment; mostly for myself. He enjoyed it, an "ohhhh" escaping his mouth. I guessed he also cautioned the initiative because he stopped teasing me and got back to work.
He slapped my hand when he saw me bringing it to my aching cock. I was afraid he was not done with his little game but I was relieved to see he just wanted to stroke me himself. It leaked as soon as he placed his hand on it. Finally he rubbed his thumb on the tip, pressed on the slit and ran his fingers on the length of my penis. He brushed the vein with his fingertips. I shivered.
While thrusting his own dick in me, still quite slowly but with less pulling out and longer and heavier prostate teasing, he circled mine and stroked it, matching the pace of his hips. Shit he was good. I could feel my senses exacerbating, my balls twitching. I pressed my hand on his ass urging him to continue, trying to get him deeper. The full ass in my hand felt so soft and firm. He must have been getting closer himself if I could trust the sounds he was producing. They were more numerous and in rapid succession. His heartbeat was accelerating. He kissed me again. Everywhere. He kissed my ear, bit it, and kissed it again. Then he attacked my neck, taking the flesh in between his teeth. He rubbed his nose on the back of my head below my hair. His breathing was getting shallow and strong. His hot breath was tickling the spots where he had just deposed his spit on. He stroked a bit more, then left my shaft and went for my balls. Cupped then, rolled them on his palm with his fingers' help.
I encased my own fingers further in his flesh. He moaned. Then his warm hand left me. He reached for mine, the one on his ass and grabbed it. He brought it to my front and deposed it on my penis. I did as requested and took care of my hard on as a big guy, all by myself. He placed his hand on the small of my back pushing a bit forward, making my ass go opposite, closer to him. When his parted lips got stuck on one spot: resting at the top of my shoulder, not moving, I knew he was there.
He gave sharp punches in my prostate with his dick. One, two, three. I hold on to my dick like it was my lifeline. My balls were pinching heavily and my hole was retracting, trying to grab a firm hold on Justin, not knowing it already did. I heard him hummed and felt his arm closing on my waist, his elbow near my stomach, his hand on my chest. He was gripping my skin under his fingertips and slipping down from the sweat. With every thrust up my ass he was bringing his grip up and holding his breath, letting it go as his hand relaxed his grip and slipped down.
Every single time I thought he was gone, he surprised me and held on. I think he was holding on for me, not wanted to come before I did, making sure I had pleasure. I sure was feeling it. Of course I would never tell him that, but I sure did. I felt every nerve in my body reacting, sending electrical shocks. My dick was begging for relief as my ass was begging for more. I needed to find a compromise that would suit them both. I pumped harder, though still not in a frenetic rhythm and felt my orgasm coming. I felt relieved when cum started to erupt from my dick. My hole twisted and as Justin saw me coming, he finally let himself go. I felt it. I felt him come inside me. I felt his hands on me, trying to get a hold on me, gripping my skin, my flesh. I heard him trying to catch some air. I didn't look at him. I didn't even open the eyes I closed while I came. He rested his forehead on the back of my head, letting his breath slow down. I felt his chest pressing against my back as it was going up and down and I felt his body cooling off. Finally he rubbed his right hand one last time on my chest, my stomach, the side of my body, my ass cheek and reached between us. He kissed my shoulder blade and I braced myself.
When it leaves you it doesn't hurt as much as when it enters you but you get this feeling you didn't have at first. The feeling of emptiness. You were full. Your asshole accepted it and got used to it, enjoyed it. Then it cried for it. Trying to get a grip on what there isn't anymore.
My skin perceived the change of temperature as Justin's skin didn't cover it any longer. I heard the snap of the condom being pulled off and the bed shifted. I didn't move. Justin was probably discarding the condom on the nightstand. I heard another noise, like a drawer rolling and closing up. The bed shifted again and I felt his warmth again. I laid still, eyes closed. I could sense his stare on me. I was dreading to meet it. Then I felt a fabric on my hand. I opened my eyes and looked down. His hand was rubbing the cloth on it, cleaning it. Ah, Justin, always the romantic. I took a hold on it, taking it from him. He let me. I cleaned myself as much as I could. When I was done he grabbed my hand and I opened it, allowing him to take the dirty cloth. He kissed my cheek with full lips but no sound. He settled back down, his head on the pillow that he pushed up few inches, lying on his back, his left arm still beneath my head.
I rolled lightly on my right and looked at him. He was staring in front of him but he felt my gaze and looked back straight in my eyes. Too late for me to turn my head away. We just stared at each other for a short moment that, again, felt like an eternity to me. Then he gave me a small smile. A genuine warm but shy smile. The one meaning to be reassuring but without making you feel like he's taking pity on you or patronizing you. I knew what it was meant to say. Like Justin wanted me to know he understood, knew and that we wouldn't make a big deal out of it. Before I could find something to do or say in response, he lifted his left arm, my head accompanying the movement. He sat down on the bed and got up. As he went to the bathroom he moved his arm in large circles like a windmill. Bastard, my head is not that heavy. As I heard him emptying his bladder, I took the pillow he was on and installed it behind my head. It was still warm and a bit humid from Justin's sweat. It had his smell. Shit that's my pillow!
I reached for my cigarettes on the nightstand and noticed that there was no sign of the condom, the wrapper or the cloth. He must have brought them with him to the bathroom. I smiled. He definitely learned to clean after him, making this all "sharing the loft situation" easier.
As I was replaying the event I heard the flush then the water running. I had to choose quickly my next move. What expression should I wear? What witty comment should I use if needed? I didn't really know what to expect from him. Would he want to talk about it? Or would he want to talk about why he left the tedious party or why he spent the night alone, waiting for me to come back? I was too tired to justify myself and explain why I missed the curfew. I had to admit I was curious about the Sap party thing but I was not really sure I wanted to know. I knew too well what those kinds of parties with those kinds of people could offer. I definitely did not want to have images flooding my mind while he would share the chronicle of his night. I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle what might have happened there. Not now anyway.
Maybe he would settle for silence... an awkward silence.
Maybe he would have a smug smile printed on his face after coming back from the bathroom.
Maybe he would want to cuddle, like some lovesick kids or like lesbians. Lesbians... yurk!
Or maybe he would just go to sleep or even leave the loft starting his day.
Lost in my thoughts I didn't see him coming back in the bedroom. I was pulled out of my daze when he passed in front of the bed walking to the other side. He climbed in, staying on his side of the bed and reached for the duvet. I joined him in the motion so that it would cover the both of us. He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, not completely rising the corners of my mouth up. He put his head down on the pillow, his body on the side, facing me. As I had resumed on smoking, laying on my back, not paying attention to him, I heard him move and out of the corner of my eyes I saw that he was on his back, his eyes apparently closed. He didn't turn his back on me. He wasn't mad.
As I look at the ceiling I allow my mind to drift to the event of the night and the one of the morning. I clearly had no idea that I was going to spend the night in jail with the guys and a homeless man or I would have stayed home. I clearly couldn't have imagined either, that this morning, I was going to have it up the ass. I don't know what surprised me the most. That it happened? The way it happened? Or the person it happened with?
I clearly knew that Justin would fuck me if he ever got the opportunity. He asked me several times already and I know better than to underestimate the guy. I quickly discovered that he will never cease to surprise me. I guess I'm more surprised I let him. But as I said, sometimes you just need someone you trust. It had been over a year for me (ah, the baseball players. It had been a nice sandwich between the twin brothers: one pitcher, one catcher). He needed it. I knew he would do his best so that I wouldn't have any complaints. And he did well. Yeah, for our first time he handled it well. During and now, after. He got it: no asking, no talking. I shouldn't be surprised he did well. Like I said, I saw him in action. On more than one occasion. I'm even the one who taught him everything.
No, what stuns me is the way he did it. I can't say he fucked me. I just can't call that fucking. And I don't like it. I fuck, it's what I do. And hell if I'm going to have a dick in my ass, I'm going to get fucked. But like I said, it wasn't quite that. This is what disturbed and still disturbs me the most. He could have asked me to get on all fours, tried kinky stuffs, I would have just kicked his butt and yelled "Fuck no!". But what he did, the way he did it... there was just no way to stop him. He wouldn't have understood. Would not have forgiven. He was just so... gentle, careful, considerate, caring. It had never been like that before. Maybe I should have expected it from him. This is what he does, how sometimes he wants it. The resemblance with other times, when I was in charge is too striking to be missed. He unmistakably made love to me. That's why I can not call it a fuck session. It was love making.
We made love like we did few other times. But what makes me really uncomfortable, what gives me the uneasy feeling in my stomach is that he was the one who made love, to me. No one ever did that. Fuck, this is like my first time. Not my first time bottoming as you got it, but the first time someone made love to me this way. This is so fucked up, not because it took 16 years for it to happen, but that it happened period. Shit. Before him I could pride myself on saying that I never actually made love, that I was not some freaking lesbian. But the little twat changed that. And now this. Fuck this shit. He's like a tsunami, striking without warning and taking everything I worked really hard to build away with him, not caring that I spent my entire existence building it. But I can't brace myself to make him stop. I can't make him disappear. I can't have him disappearing.
I glance at him and see that he is already asleep. Asshole. He kept me awake, refused to fuck me hard and fast but had no problem fucking my mind, and now, he's sleeping peacefully. Looking like a fucking angel. Shit shit shit. Don't let his looks fool you. He's no angel. He loves sex. He loves cock: thick, long, hard ones. He's got a big one too. He knows how to use it, the way he knows how to use his ass, his mouth, his hands, his smile, even his freaking blue eyes. He will catch you and never let you go, only maybe if he decides to. But what can I say, I don't mind. He can keep me as long as he wants. He can play with me, I'll play with him.
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There will be no mentioning of this event. There will be no "Remember when I fucked you" moment. It happened and no one will know about it, no one will talk about it. Even he and I will not talk about it, like it never happened. Only it did. We both know that. And there will be a "Remember when I fucked you" moment in Justin's head as well as a "Remember when he fucked you" moment in mine. We will just not mention it, we will pretend it never happened and it won't happen again. Ever. Surely not. Certainly not. Probably not.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Property of Cowlip