by TomNJus
"I'll take your word for it."
"You were great, though," I said, watching the traffic and sliding my hand up his inner thigh until my pinky brushed his package. He sucked in a sudden breath through his teeth. "And in case you were wondering, I think you look like a 1920s hood." I turned in my seat, leaning over and bracing myself on the headrest behind him, my right hand picking up where my left had just left off.
"Can I be your G-man?" I growled into his ear, while scratching my nails over the warp of his trouser material, sending little, erotic vibrations through his balls. A pained groan escaped his clenched teeth.
"You're going to make me crash the getaway car, and Gabe'll be pissed at us both—and he doesn't love me, so he won't feel any remorse when he kicks my butt—"
I was just beginning to nibble at his lobe when I saw we were turning into the entrance to the underground parking of our building and drew back. The guard in his little shack lifted the gate and Devlin almost flew past the ranks of parked cars to get to his space.
"We need to go to my place tonight so I can dig out my camera," I informed him as he shut off the motor and opened his door.
"What for?"
"So I can get some mug shots of the infamously sexy outlaw I somehow managed to catch." Giving him a crooked grin and a wink, I put my hat on and climbed out.
Before the elevator doors were even shut, I had him cornered, his hands held over his head in one of mine, the other teasing the crack of his ass through his trousers, and my tongue slow dancing with his. I rubbed against his already engorged cock lightly, giving myself a hard-on in the process. I could feel his heat and his hunger, and every time he tried to apply more pressure to my rolling hips than I wanted him to, I broke contact. I chuckled into his mouth at his wordless complaints, and rubbed against him a little more.
I couldn't believe how hot my aggression always got him; he really got off on it when I took complete control of the situation. No matter how frustrated I made him he didn't even try to get his hands free, even though I barely held his wrists. I found myself liking our building's slow elevators for the first time since I'd moved in.
I burrowed my fingers between his legs from behind and massaged his perineum, while devouring his neck and as much of his shoulder as I could reach. His pelvis danced back and forward in little jerks, as if his body couldn't decide which it wanted more: to grind against my hard-on, or against my fingers. He panted raggedly into my ear, nearly whining as he grazed his teeth against the crook of my neck.
I think he was on the verge of coming when the elevator dinged merrily, announcing our arrival at the nineteenth floor. The doors retracted with a thump and the piercing yap of a small dog startled us. I disentangled myself from Devlin and took my time adjusting his collar so his shirt lay right. I noticed with satisfaction a silver dollar sized wet patch on the front of his tan trousers and grinned.
The dog belonged to a sour, old bitch that lived across the hall from me. She was always gossiping about the other tenants and I couldn't stand her or her over-bred, Cousin It-looking pooch.
"Do you mind?" she snapped in a voice made froggy by too many years of heavy smoking.
Taking Dev's hand and weaving our fingers together, I stepped out into the hall. "Not in the least," I replied with a Cheshire grin and glanced down at the yapping little, shit factory. "Oh, look, honey," I said to Dev. "We should get one of those."
The old biddy made a sound of contempt as she got into the elevator, and I spoke louder, "We could shove a handle up its ass and use it for dusting." She made a sound of outrage as the doors closed on her and the mutt.
Dev snorted, trying to keep his rubbery legs under him as we hurried down the hall. We tumbled in as I unlocked the door and he moved past me. I barely got it shut behind us before he was pressing my chest against the door and himself into my back. He pulled out my shirttails out and ran his hands over my bared skin, his steely cock poking against my ass. I ground my butt into him for a second, reveling in the sensation, before escaping his groping hands. With a peck on his lips, I slipped away to find my camera.
When I came back, the camera's strap looped over my wrist and a bottle of lube in hand, he was already undressed. He'd thrown his shirt over the back of the couch and kicked his sandals off; his trousers were in a puddle on the floor. He flung his shorts into the air with his foot and caught them.
"Put your pants back on," I said, setting the lube aside and pushing him against the front door.
Kneeling, I snagged one of the suspender straps and helped him back into them. I leaned him into the pose I wanted, and crab walked back until I encountered the couch. I took the picture from a low angle, then several different shots, a few with my hat on his head. With it pushed back, he looked guileless as a newsboy; with it cocked at an angle, he looked like a roguish bounder; with it tipped forward, someone who'd sooner shoot you than give you the time of day.
He really got into it, coming up with his own poses and needing little direction from me. I think the photo session excited him almost as much as the scenario in the elevator; his erection never flagged, and the wet spot on his trousers grew. I was aching pretty badly myself, but I wanted one more shot before I put the camera away.
I knelt in front of him again, my open mouth molding the material over the ridge of his hard-on, and forced a powerful blast of air through them. He groaned, gripping fistfuls of my hair and pressing my face harder into him. I undid the button of his trousers and slid my hands up to brush my fingers over his nipples. I nuzzled my lips around until I got the tongue of the zipper up so I could grab it with my teeth and draw it down. His cock leapt out, brushing the side of my forehead, eager for some long-awaited attention.
His fingers relaxed, his hands resting on my head instead of gripping it as I burrowed my face into his pants, giving each of his low hanging balls an open-mouthed kiss. He murmured his approval when I nipped at the base of his shaft before tracing the winding path of one thick, blue vein up the underside with the tips of my nose and tongue.
Gazing up the length of his body, I could see him watching me. I smiled up at him. In my lower periphery, I saw a large, heavy drop of pre-cum trembling on the verge of falling. I caught it on the center of my tongue, delved into his slit with the tip then pulled back, trailing a silvery string between him and me without taking my eyes off his for a second. Dev's eyes dilated and his cock pulled up toward his stomach, snapping the string. His musk spread through my mouth, making me crave more of him.
"Take it," he said hoarsely, his tone neither demanding nor pleading, but somewhere between.
I looked at his cock for several seconds, an angry purple for a third of its length, mesmerized by the metronomic quality of its bobbing with his heartbeat. Grabbing one of his firm cheeks in each hand, I kneaded them, while taking his crown into my mouth. I sucked and licked off the coating of pre-cum, feeling his legs shake against my arms. Sucking harder, I leaned forward, taking all of him in as his fingers clenched in my hair again. I moved from the hips, using my entire torso to drag my head back and I felt my cheeks cave in from the suction.
I could see his head thrown back, he was biting his lip, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. I took a breath and dove down on him again, my stomach and groin muscles contracting at the sounds I was eliciting from him. I swallowed around his head several of times extracting a grunt from him for each as payment. Swabbing my tongue back and forth over the throbbing vein, I drew back to gasp several breaths through my nose and slithered my slick tongue under the ridge of his helmet.
I'd only been intending to give Dev a little attention before taking my last picture, but I knew it was too late to stop when he swelled against my tongue, and I saw his abs tense. I readied myself to take the blast barely in time as his cock jerked and pulsed with the first burning gush. He cried out gutturally, his knees buckling. My balls tightened and pulled up, sending powerful waves of tingles through my abdomen as what felt like a river of pre-cum soa
ked my already wet boxer briefs. I gave him the support his legs couldn't, keeping him from collapsing to the floor, while he gripped my skull in his strong hands. Surge after surge of his tangy liquor flowed over my tongue and down my throat as I desperately tried to keep up with it.
His hands dropped to his sides, limp and trembling. I climbed to my feet and moved back quickly, to get that last picture before he went soft. He stayed upright, the door at his back propping him up. His heaving chest glistened in the slanting, late afternoon light streaking across him from the blind covered windows. Runnels of sweat rolled down his six-pack; the left suspender had slid off his shoulder, letting his slacks sag low on his slim hips. One last, pearlescent drop of come clung to the tip of his cock.
The words, God, he's beautiful, rippled on the surface of my mind like leaves on wind-ruffled water. Someone like Rodin or Michelangelo ought to carve a sculpture of Dev just like this, call it Mars Post-coitus, I thought, and grinned.
Dev heard the snick of the camera and opened his eyes, his expression dazed. I set the camera on the end table next to the couch and drew him into my arms, kissing him deeply, caressing his hair and back; expressing with my body what I couldn't with words. There was the too real fear that if I even hinted I felt more than friendship and lust for him he'd disappear; one moment I'd have him in my arms and the next they'd be empty. I couldn't bear the thought, so I wouldn't chance it.
Once I was certain he could to stand on his own, I went over to my small liquor cabinet. I was hurting with the need for release, but wanted to give him a chance to recover first. Taking out the open bottle of scotch, I looked over at him with a grin.
"You want a drink?" I asked as I poured a generous three fingers of the golden brown liquid into a heavy whisky glass.
*Devlin*
A drink? I wanted more than a drink. I wanted—my throat went tight and I wished my body would stop shaking.
I'd been coasting along in this relationship, my early doubts about it long gone, until this afternoon. That's when the O'Shaughnessys danced rings around me like mocking elves and shaken my confidence to the core. Joel had repeatedly said that they liked me, but I wasn't so sure. They'd made me feel like I was on trial, and guilty until proven innocent.
Gabe told me why, as had just about everyone else. Joel hadn't noticed, but after our melting kisses, as he'd dragged me back into the pub, I'd heard a few people whispering, "Looks like he found another Eric," which had pretty well explained the relentless slew of familial hazing. Every member of the O'Shaughnessy clan wanted to conduct his or her own test and see just how deep that resemblance went.
By the time the Three Musketeers came at me, I was so off balance I couldn't even find my sword, let alone parry their fencing. I must have looked like a total idiot standing there, all scandalized. Back in high school, I'd been the one selling the condoms, albeit just one or two, not a whole sex-shop's worth. Still, when had I turned into such a prude that kids could shock me like that?
Then there was Molly's observation that I resembled some kind of wholesome teen heartthrob.
At least I'd managed to pull myself together for the picture and tossed back a little of what had been thrown at me. By the end, however, my ego had been pretty well broken down into pieces and sold on Ebay. There was little doubt that I'd fallen short of what Joel's friends and family wanted for him. I could see that as we were making our good-byes. They'd all exchanged these dubious looks, ones he didn't see, but I did. Ones that said to Joel, "I hope you've made the right decision in this guy."
Hell, I almost wanted to say it to him myself. "Joel, buddy, as your friend, I gotta tell ya...you really could do better."
That was the unarmed state I was in when Joel attacked. In the car, he'd played me like a fiddle, and if I hadn't realized it before, I did the moment he scratched his nails over my crotch. My Goddamn dick was his. I don't know when, I don't know how, but my traitorous cock had switched allegiances. It would do anything Joel wanted it to do.
If his hand came near it, it jumped to attention, straining against the fabric of my trousers, begging like a dog for his love. By the time we were in the elevator, the rest of my body had followed suit. Complete capitulation to his touch, his kisses. He had my hands above my head and I didn't even want to break free. I writhed in his grasp, letting him do what he liked, my cock salivating for him, panting to get out. Feeling—
What was I feeling?
The elevator finally came to a stop and as we passed the weird, old biddy and her shaggy rat, I had a moment to catch my breath and recognize just how aroused and desperate I was for Joel. I couldn't keep my hands off him. We stepped inside and he barely got the door shut before I was pulling up his shirt and trying to run my hands over him. He broke away with a kiss that promised me more, and I fumbled off my clothes
He returned, insisting I put my pants back on and helping me to get them up, suspenders in place. Then he put his hat on my head and started snapping pictures. The camera flashed and whirled and made its digital sounds. Joel directed me at first, but I wanted to regain some control, see if I could shake him up a little. I turned and put my hands up against the wall, letting him see the way the "Y" shape of the suspenders ran down my spine, the outline of my ass against the trousers. Then I pulled down the waistband, stretching the elastic of the suspenders until some of my crack showed.
I heard an intake of breath from Joel and smirked. I could almost feel his eyes raking over me. Turning, I did the same at the front, displaying every chiseled line of muscle on down to the first hint of pubic hair. Joel growled in his throat, and my cock, still thick and waiting for him, got harder. That was always what I loved best, knowing he couldn't look away for want of me.
Next thing I knew, he was on his knees, his fingers toying with my nipples, his mouth covering my cock, still there in the trousers. I don't know what he did but it felt as if a flutter of tickling fingers had gone down my straining length. I grabbed his hair. He drew down the zipper with his mouth, letting the folds of my trousers fall back, exposing my throbbing erection. I was so hard it was painful.
He kissed my sensitive balls and twirled his soft, wet tongue up my straining shaft, letting me feel his nose, his lips, his shaven cheek, even the brush of an eyelash as he savored me. Now I was the one watching, enthralled by the sight of him devouring me like a special treat. I caught my breath as he tongued my slit for drops of pre-cum, and my voice went rough as I finally urged him to, "Take it."
He made me wait, made me wait with every part of my body quivering for him; my poor, starved cock screaming. Then, grabbing my ass, he took me into that warm, wonderful mouth of his. I moaned and gyrated with each pulsing suck, my stomach muscles clenching and rippling. I chewed on my lips until they nearly bled, the arousing sight of Joel's bobbing head, of him taking me down, making my balls fill up, my legs tremble.
Perspiration started trickling down my neck, over my chest and belly. I couldn't stop rocking my hips or gasping for air. I felt Joel's hair under my hands, yet I wasn't fucking his mouth, wasn't forcing his head onto my cock. He was in command. He could go all the way down and torment the root of my captive dick—or come up and tease the crown—and no matter how I thrust, I couldn't get him to change the tempo.
At last, his clever tongue gave me that fatal stroke, the one that tipped the balance. My buttocks clenched. I couldn't yell; the feeling roiled up from too deep inside—it came out as some sort of animal grunt and my whole body spasmed. Again and again, my cream shot into his mouth. I swear, I almost blacked out.
The world spun around me. I felt Joel greedily swallowing down my come. Then, with a loving lick, he released me. My cock bobbed in the air, naked and ravished. One of my suspenders had slipped, leaving me nearly naked, but I hadn't the strength to pull it up.
The electronic clicking of the digital camera brought me back. Joel, a smug expression on his face, brought the viewfinder down from those mischievous green eyes.
He's cap
tured my soul, I thought inanely.
Setting the camera aside, he took me in his arms and kissed me, stroking my hair as if commending me for being a good boy. I trembled there in his arms. Then he stepped away and poured himself a scotch.
"You want a drink?"
That's when it hit me, the last blow of the day, right between the eyes. I don't know why it came then. Maybe it was because there was no way for me to deny Joel's complete control over me, over us, but I finally knew what I was feeling.
Scared. It wasn't ecstasy alone that had me trembling. It was the terrifying knowledge that I was going to give myself to Joel.
I'd been coyly flirting with the idea since he'd slipped his cock between my thighs this morning, but I hadn't been convinced. Not until Gabe had brought up Eric. If Eric were ever to return, he'd said, unaware that Eric was back, that he was leaving text messages on Joel's phone. If Eric were ever to return...Joel would take him back in a red-hot second. And my one, outraged response to that had been a challenging, internal why? Why would Joel take back an asshole like that?