This is it. We did it. This is the end of where we follow Jay and Dillon (at least until I figure out if I want to follow through on some vague ideas of a high school reunion for him, Aaron, and Crispin. Don't encourage me). This feels a little disjointed to my eyes, but it's also a literal first draft, so…if it sucks shit then let me know, I guess. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.
The room is cool, but I'm already starting to sweat. Dillon's lips leave mine to bite my neck, my shoulder; he drags his tongue up to my ear and sucks on my earlobe.
“Fuck,” I groan, and he giggles.
I have this desperate need to, like, see him naked. I only got to that one time, and we have maybe less than an hour now, and if I spend the whole time wrestling with the sweater Dillon’s wearing on top of his fucking button down? I will die. I pull him up to yank all his clothes off, and maybe I'm not gentle.
“Ow,” Dillon complains, stopping me so that he can undo his own buttons. “Relax, Jay. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I exclaim. “You’ve been running away from me for a month. We have less than an hour. Get your goddam head in the game, Montgomery. How fuckin’ long did it take to get you warmed up last time? And if you think for one second—”
I can’t talk with Dillon’s tongue in my mouth, and I’d rather let him kiss me than do most things, so I shut up. Usually I can’t, like, filter out stuff like the wet smacks of mouths together (is that why I chose to be drunk during sex so much?), but with Dillon it’s like the sound sinks into the base of my neck. I keep shivering pleasantly, not because I’m cold, but Dillon’s lips on mine and his hands under my shirt give me goosebumps.
“I’m about to do something you won’t like,” Dillon says.
“What?”
Patting my shoulder, he goes, “I’m going to shortcut the process a little bit and go get ready on my own in the bathroom.”
I pshaw. “Bruh, I’ll go with you.” I’d helped him the last time. His asshole doesn’t scare me.
“Nope,” he replies with a smile, shaking his head. “It’ll be faster if I just do it.”
That panicky, pathetic feeling starts to creep back. “Is this gonna be like when you went back to your dorm to get sweats,” I ask, “ and came back with an entirely different attitude? Because—”
“No.” Dillon slips off the bed and collects a couple things. “I’ll come back with my current attitude.”
“And what am I supposed to do while I wait?” I protest, watching him slip his shower slides on.
He gives me a sassy grin. “Stretch.”
Dillon sails out the door and it takes everything in me not to sail right after him. Fucking tease.
I shouldn’t have this much time to think. It’s always like, I want to have sex, I find someone who also wants to have sex, and then we have sex together. And like fine. FINE. I looked some shit up, okay? Mostly because Dillon said a perfect ten would be coming without touching himself, and I didn’t think it was possible! And there was a lot about how it’s really about, like, the individual or whatever, but a good bet is to get the…guy, like, close before the penetration part. And then the, like, top does the touching instead. Otherwise it mostly seemed like toys are the cheat code? But I’m not out here buying shit that Carter could ever find, so…
“Fuck,” I say out loud, and it kind of feels good to get it out there. This is fucking scary. “Fuck.” I’m gonna have to up my game, like, immediately, and here I was thinking I’d never get another chance. “Fuck.”
I pull out my phone and start googling. Off the school’s wifi and in private browser mode on the VPN that a buddy showed me, duh, but thank god for Reddit. I’m gonna have to look up what “side stuff” means later, but at least there’s some good advice on topping.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I sigh, and just about pass away when Dillon reenters the room right at that second.
He chuckles, kinda looking at me like he can read my mind. “Getting cold feet?” he asks.
I shake my head. But like, yeah I was for a second maybe, but fucking look at him. He’s just got a towel around his waist, so all the curly little hairs on his lower abs are right in front of my eyeballs, his iliac furrows—cum gutters—are fucking popping, the traps and lats, pecs round, fucking mad delts and shit. And that’s before I ever get to his face. Or how it felt the last time he was naked around me.
“Holy fucking shit,” I exhale. “You don’t even look real.”
Dillon gets this shy look on his face before he turns away from me to put his stuff away. And I let him, because I really want him to be in the mood for what we’re about to do. Oh my god, we’re gonna fuck again.
I gotta be a good top. A good partner. Dillon smells like soap, and oh shit “Should I have showered?”
The sneaky look on his face when he turns around is fucking cute. He goes, “I don’t know; let me check,” and grabs my arm to pull me close. Dillon holds my right arm up by the elbow and sticks his full face into my armpit.
“What the fuck,” I kind of laugh, but Dillon’s bright eyes flick up to meet mine as he takes a huge whiff. Ooh, do I like this a lot? More shit I didn’t know was allowed. Then Dillon opens his mouth and bites my armpit. The noise I make—you’d have thought he cupped my balls. Like, I get so hard. “Dirty lil’ bitch,” I growl to his sassy little chuckle.
“You’re alright,” he tells me, but lets me pull his face to mine. He’s like, so fucking good at kissing.
“At this point I better be,” I reply, “because now we’re down to forty minutes.”
Dillon’s about to make fun of me for suddenly knowing how to sense time passing, and I don’t really have a good transition for what comes next, so I just bend to get my arms around his thighs and pick him up. He’s laughing, of fucking course, but lets me put him on the bed and unwrap his towel like a present.
Oh my god, I’m really gonna do it. I’m gonna blow him. Dillon almost stops me; I can tell by the way he sits up halfway, but I’m already pulling his legs to dangle over the side and stepping between them. My heart is pounding so loud I wonder if Dillon can hear it.
“Oh, shit. Oh, okay,” is what he says first, which makes me laugh a little bit.
His dick is in my face. He’s not all the way hard yet, but the thick shaft is plumping up and twitching as it does. I open my mouth.
It’s surprisingly easy. Like, I hadn’t thought about it before, but in this position it’s too not hard on my neck, and whatever Dillon did in the bathroom means he’s all clean now so there’s not like an Oh no, am I licking old piss? Although maybe that’s part of the appeal and shit. I don’t fucking know. What I do know is that I need to prove to Dillon that I’m game for anything. Like, maybe if he has something to hold over me he’ll be less afraid to be with me, does that make sense? But also I want to do this.
“God damn, Jay,” Dillon breathes. “That’s so good.”
I slurp noisily on the tip, watching his adductors shake. I’m so hard. “You must not get a lot of head if you think this is good.”
Dillon’s strong hands tilt my head up. “You think you can do better?” he challenges me.
This fucking guy. “Don’t you dare fucking call this trade,” I warn him.
He smiles. “I won’t.”
And then I fucking shut him up because I absolutely fucking can do better. Dillon’s cock barely fits in my mouth, but I’m gonna swallow him like an anaconda. Bobbing on that dick like a fucking pogo stick, I run my hands over the Dillon’s muscles. Squeezing, sliding, rubbing, teasing, getting him closer to that edge, past the point where he can think straight. He’s melting on my tongue like candy, dripping and leaking so much that I’ll probably still be tasting him tomorrow. It makes my skin hot.
Thing about Dillon is that he’s not quiet. He’s all, “Yes, that’s it,” and “just like that,” and “Oh my god, Jay!” especially when I throw his legs over my shoulders to get at his ass. I’m fucking rimming him so good. No, I haven’t fucking done this before. No, I didn’t think I’d want to. But the little brown ring needs some loving care, and I’m ready to eat this ass like I’m starving. From there to the thick balls, to that thick dick, and back down again, I keep my tongue and lips busy while Dillon calls my name again and again, over and over.
The competitive side of me wants to swallow cum. Like, get him so hot and bothered that Dillon can’t help himself, right? I win. He’d be so embarrassed. But Reddit told me that if he’s not, like, almost coming when I stick it in, he’ll have a harder time without a bunch of moves we don’t have time for. So I slow down, putting my mouth on his inner thighs and pelvis, teasing but not too much.
“God. Fucking. Damn,” Dillon exhales as I lower his thick thighs from my shoulders. His hands are fisted in the sheets. Hot.
“You could never be a spy,” I tell him as I shuck my clothes.
“What?”
I climb up to join him. “You’re fucking noisy in bed. Everybody would know your weak spots, like, fucking immediately.” My tongue in his mouth stops hims from getting mad at me, and Dillon’s strong arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me closer. Again, I could do this forever because it turns out I really like it when Dillon is so turned on by me that he has to grab my ass. The clock is ticking, though, so I rearrange us with my head comfy on Dillon’s pillow.
He straddles my waist, squashing the tips of my cock under his balls, and from the sneaky little look on his face Dillon did that on purpose.
“You trying to be a pillow princess?”
“I told you,” I remind him as I reach for his cock, “I want you to ride me.” Dillon lets me stroke him a couple times. I guess…like, I genuinely do like touching it.
Dillon pulls a strip of condoms—I can’t believe I was so focused on rimming him that I didn’t notice him put all his supplies on the bed—out and holds it over my face. “I’ll give you all of these since you’re not gonna last,” he says sassily.
I rip one open and Dillon moves to let me roll it on. “You think?.”
“I’m just saying I know how to throw it back,” he says, and I can’t see how he does it, but something with his hips puts his hole, like, right at the tip of my cockhead, just brushing it. Holy shit. “If you come early, I won’t blame you.”
I take the lube from him and squirt a generous amount onto my covered dick. “I’m the one who’s worried half an hour isn’t enough.”
And then I put my hands on him and pull that sweet asshole directly onto my straining cock. Oh that’s so fucking good. Holy shit he’s so hot and tight. Oh my god.
“Oh,” Dillon sounds like I hit something good immediately. “Oh, fuck.”
I slap one of his juicy ass cheeks. “Throw that fucking ass, if you’re gonna talk shit.”
He wants to be mad so bad! But that smile creeps through as Dillon starts bouncing on my erection. So he wasn’t kidding about what his hips can do. He winds in circles, grinds, pulls, working my cock with his tight hole while bracing himself on my chest.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe, “I like you so much.”
Dillon looks shocked, then so fucking happy that I’m really glad I said it. Because duh, between stopping him on the Hill and now, I figured it out. Yes, I have an actual, for real, for serious crush on this fucking guy. Probably have for a while. I like him so fucking much. I like how smart he is, how confident he is, how fucking cut he is, I like his smile and then way all of his feelings show up on his face, and how smart he is, and his little mannerisms, and that he’s funny, and that he thinks I’m funny, and that even after I was a fucking shitbag to him he still cared enough to let me change, and that he’s too nice to keep kicking me to the curb when I crawl back to him. I like his curly hair, and his brown skin, and his pretty eyes, and his thick lips, and his tight bubble ass, and his strong hands, and I like that I get to look at all of this while Dillon takes my cock. It’s amazing. He’s fucking amazing.
Dillon’s blunt nails dig into my pecs, holding me down as he rides me. I think I get it this time, like how fucking amazing it is that two people could feel the same thing so strongly. I could be throwing away life as I know it for him, and it's like, what matters is right here. Dillon and me and now.
“Come on, pretty boy,” I urge him. I don't know if it's hearing his words from my mouth or hearing me call him pretty, but Dillon’s hips go into overdrive, fucking me so hard that the bed bangs against the cinderblock wall.
His blue eyes close as he rolls his hips back onto my cock. “Oh, fuck yes,” he says. “Fuck me.”
My hands can’t stay off him. I touch his powerful thighs, the round pecs, his rippling abs, the corded arms that hold me down. His cock leaks precum onto my abs in long, clear drips, that I can almost taste from here. My eyes keep wanting to shut with pleasure, but I force them open. I have to see this. I have to watch him.
“Shit, I’m coming,” Dillon says like it caught him off guard, and I finally wrap my arms around his hips to buck into him, trapping his cock between our stomachs to slide in the slippery mess. Dillon bites my shoulder hard, screaming as I fuck him so fucking hard, and then that familiar burst rocks my body but only it’s so much more intense, it’s bigger, it’s fuller, and I’m coming deep in his ass.
When my vision refocuses Dillon is still on top of me, wiping sweat from his upper lip with his thumb. Hot. He kind of smiles at me. “Whoa.”
“Come here,” I say, holding my arms open. Dillon settles between me and the wall, fitting himself sideways and half on top of me. We stay like that for a while, Dillon occasionally turning to kiss me while I stroke his back. Wow. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on all this. I can’t believe I almost didn’t have it at all.
The sound of a phone buzzing interrupts the quiet, and Dillon finds his phone in the tangle of sheets. I can read the notification—Brantley’s on his way back—and groan.
Dillon laughs, “He does still live here.”
“Don’t make excuses for him.”
“Come shower with me, if you want,” Dillon suggests as he slides off me.
Bold move, but I’m into it. We gather our stuff, my coat included, and I follow Dillon down the hall.
The showers are quiet except for us, but Dillon pulls me into a stall with him.
“Pervert,” I say, and he laughs.
He doesn’t do anything sexy, though. Just washes himself, then watches me take my turn under the spray. Those bright eyes look me up and down sleepily, like he enjoys the view. Like he’s glad I’m naked in front of him. I really like it.
“So, okay,” I say as I rinse shampoo from my hair, “You know how you told me I was ‘close to saying something real?’”
Dillon nods, smiling a little. “I remember being present for that, yeah.”
“I really, really don’t like it when you figure me out like that. It’s fucking embarrassing.”
He folds his arms all cocky. “I think it’s cute.”
“You’re so fucking annoying,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“You like it, though.”
“I fucking do.”
And then Dillon joins me under the water.
Fucking him here is faster, quieter than in his bed. He keeps his washcloth clamped between his teeth as I pound him from behind, trying not to yell as I hammer his fucking prostate. Even with legs spread and arms braced against the tiny shower stall walls Dillon bucks against me, matching my pace, meeting each thrust. I reach around when I get close, jacking his thick cock so he shoots just after I do, but this time I’m the one digging my teeth into his shoulder so I don’t make a noise.
I have to put all my same clothes back on while Dillon gets into his sweats. I can’t stop touching him. If only Carter were out of town.
“Come to breakfast with me,” I tell Dillon while he’s brushing his teeth.
He mumbles around his toothbrush, “Breakfast?” like, bruh, don’t act like you know me like that. Rude.
“Fine, lunch.”
He raises his black eyebrows.
“Early fucking dinner! What do you want to hear, asshole?” I whisper-shout, and Dillon laughs.
He finishes, wiping his mouth, and turns to lean back against the sink. “You want to be seen with me in public?”
“Bruh. I’ve been seen with you in public this whole year.”
“This whole five months,” he corrects me. “But okay. Text me when you get up.”
“You do—” I can’t believe I’m about to ask this, “you like me, right? Like me too. Back. Whatever.”
The smile Dillon gives me is like stepping into fucking sunshine, man. “Yup. I like you, too. Back. Whatever.”
His blue eyes are kind of sleepy and—ugh, god, who am I anymore—I pull him forward by his hoodie and kiss him. If he says it, it'll be now. I can almost hear him declaring it's too much; he can't do this actually; I'm straight and he's just going to get hurt.
"You taste like dick," Dillon informs me. He looks so fucking pleased, though, that I know he's just trying not to, like, squeal. Just because I kissed him? I like this.
"See you tomorrow," I say, and head down the stairs. I get a text before I've even hit the ground floor.
Perfect 10.
No comments:
Post a Comment