by Daryl Banner
Now I can’t get enough.
His hands—cool and soft—are on my firm, warm chest. While he might have placed them there initially to brace himself or push me away, he’s certainly making no effort to break free from the muscular, bodily prison in which I’ve entrapped him.
My hand slips under the hem of his shirt and slowly—very slowly—starts to draw up his slender body. I let my fingers tickle his smooth, soft skin as I bring the shirt up, revealing inch by inch his sexy abdomen.
Goosebumps decorate his arms. He shivers, eyes closed.
I love every little bit of what I’m doing to him. It gives me such pleasure to have this much power over a horny young man like Trevor. I already know that every bit of his relief and joy is at my utter mercy. I can deny him cruelly and never touch his cock if I wanted, stroking and teasing and exploring every other part of him all night. I can be meaner yet and shove him to his knees, giving him a closer look at the bulge he’s been eyeing all night, or my ass if I turn around and make him worship it.
The more I kiss this pretty boy’s full, delicate lips, the more my desire to own him deepens.
He starts to lift his shoulders as I bring the shirt up his chest, revealing the tightest, smoothest, sexiest set of pecs I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t have a lot of muscle, but he’s surprisingly toned, slender and lean, with just an adorable light patch of hair in the middle of his chest and a dusty happy trail cutting down his belly button, disappearing into his seriously swollen pants.
His nipples are small and perfect, and I let my thumbs graze lightly over them as I draw the shirt up his body. It doesn’t go unnoticed, as he squirms under my touch.
I own this boy.
The thin fabric of his shirt crawls up to reveal his lightly-trimmed pits, and then I pull from our kiss to get his shirt up over his head. The next instant, the shirt is pitched to the side.
And for a second, our eyes lock on one another. He’s out of breath, panting as he searches my gaze for something. It strikes me, the way he’s looking at me. What’re you looking for, boy?
Then I’m back on his mouth, and our shirtless bodies collide, this time with his hands going around my back and pulling me in.
I let my hand slide down to cup his tight butt cheek.
It fills my palm perfectly.
I give it a firm squeeze and pull his hips into mine, crushing our bulging crotches against one another. I want this boy so badly that it aches below my waist. When I squeeze his ass again, tighter, he starts clawing at my backside and groaning, which has no effect on the firm, hard muscle his fingers fruitlessly dig at.
He pulls from the kiss. “B-Ben …”
I don’t let him speak. Chasing an impulse to have my way with him, I grip under his thighs and lift him up. He gasps, then hooks his legs around my waist reflexively and clings to my neck. With his ass and the backside of his thighs cupped in my hands, I lead him out of the kitchen and across the den to the long white couch of the living room.
When I drop him like a sack of meat onto the soft cushions, he stares up at me, open-mouthed. He looks lost, like he just woke up from a trance that our kissing put him in.
He better be ready for another.
Slowly, so he can watch my every move, I unbuckle my belt. Trevor watches unblinkingly with the absolute, unbroken focus of a cat to a laser pointer. The belt clinks as I slip it from my pants. With a smirk, I fold the belt and pull outward fast, giving it a firm pop like a crack of thunder that ripples over the room.
Trevor jumps.
My smirk deepens.
I toss the belt aside and move my fingers to the button of my pants. Trevor stares again. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing as he watches my every move. He almost looks terrified.
Maybe he should be.
“Like what you see?” I ask him.
Trevor looks up at me, then looks back down at my pants, like he can’t process another thought beyond why I’m taking so long to undress and what I’m packing. He doesn’t answer.
The button lets go. I grip the zipper and slowly slide it down, then I let go of my pants, letting them hang half-open for him to admire.
I note with a victorious smirk the yearning in Trevor’s eyes.
Got him.
My pants sag, loosened as they are, revealing the waistband of my tight, baby blue boxer briefs, but my thick thighs keep them from falling. I let the fly of my pants stay wide open, giving him the smallest, cruelest hint of the top of my monster cock bulge.
Yeah, I can be evil. I know how to take my time and build the tension so thick, he’s popping in his pants. I want to drive him so crazy that he’s begging for it.
Trevor’s eyes change. He lifts his chin and brings his gaze up to meet mine.
A stroke of defiance enters his eyes.
I quirk an eyebrow.
He sits up slowly, then brings a hand to his chest. The simple movement seems awkward at first, but when his fingers reach his nipple, he seems to relax. Trevor shuts his eyes and gives himself a gentle pinch. “Mmm,” he moans.
I lick my lips, watching, my cock throbbing its need.
What’s he doing?
He lifts up onto his knees, the white cushions compressing beneath his weight, and he brings his other hand up to his other nipple—because he wouldn’t dare leave it out of the fun.
Now I’m the one in a trance, staring fiercely, breathless.
After massaging his nipples briefly, he slowly draws his hands down his body—slowly, methodically, hungrily—until they arrive at his pants. My eyes track his movements like a hunter.
“L-Like what you see?” he asks, his voice almost timid. “Ben?”
My gaze flicks up to his. The look on his face is a cautious and reluctant one, like he’s waiting for me to growl my approval.
I don’t growl. I just give him one short nod, my eyes hard as diamond, before saying, “Take off your pants.”
He freezes. “Take … off …?”
“Take off your pants.”
All that smoothness he was exhibiting is suddenly gone. He’s a terrified boy all over again. He’s only undone the buttons, but now his hands hover distractedly, unsure what to do. Maybe he’s even forgotten how to take them off. Maybe I should show him.
Slowly, I saunter right up to him until my shadow towers over his frozen face. He doesn’t move a muscle.
“Get up.”
He turns his face toward me, but doesn’t look up, his gaze hovering at my stomach. He licks his lips, then says, “Ben …”
“Trevor.” The way I say his name, I’m mocking him constantly saying mine over and over. “Trevor. Trevor.” I smirk over him, feeling powerful. “Get up. On your feet.”
He finally complies, slipping a leg off the couch and rising. He comes up to my nose, which I oddly haven’t noticed until just now. Even when we were kissing, I leveled my mouth to his and knew nothing else of the world. My whole place could’ve been on fire, and I wouldn’t have known.
He opens his mouth. “I—”
“What is it?” I ask him, interrupting. “You turned on?”
“Y-Yes, but—”
“You hard?”
“As a rock. B-But I—”
“So what is it?” I tilt my head, burning him with my hungry stare. He’s so fucking delicious standing right in front of me, it’s getting more and more impossible to keep my hands off of him by the second. I have to taste him again.
He looks up suddenly. “W-Where’s your dog?”
I blink. Really?
“He’s … uh …” I’m seriously thrown by his random question. He could’ve asked how big my cock is. He could’ve asked to touch me. He could’ve asked to grab hold of my ass he thinks I don’t know he’s been staring at all night.
Instead: dog.
“It’s just that you w-went through all the trouble of warning me about him,” explains Trevor in a rapid firing of nervous words, “a-and he’s … he’s not here.”
I
slouch, staring at him stupidly. I bite my lip and muster up a big bucket of patience, despite my cock throbbing so hard that I might fuck a hole through my pants if I don’t get my release soon. “When he hears that I’m not alone—as he clearly heard before I even opened the door—he hides. It’s what he does.”
“He hides?” Trevor’s eyes soften. “Oh, that’s so sweet. I can relate to that, actually.”
I purse my lips. Great. Trevor can relate to my dog. A second ago, I had all of his attention and commanded his every sexual thought and feeling. Now, I might as well be wearing a hotdog costume slathered in mango salsa for all he’d notice.
“Oh? Can you?” I ask lamely.
“Yeah,” says Trevor, sexy, shirtless, and totally talking about my dog when we both have erections as hard as granite. “I’m kind of weird around people I don’t know, and so I go and just … hide in my work. I’ve always been like that. I just started a job this week, in fact, and … and I’m not making friends.”
I study him carefully. His breathing is still tightened, and he certainly doesn’t look at ease. Is he really this damned nervous about sex? Is he stalling? I knew he was totally out of his element at that club but had no idea how much.
I take a breath. “You … can’t force people to like you.”
Still not looking at me, his brow furrows. “But I’m a nice guy.”
“And you can’t expect everyone to like you, either,” I go on. “Some, you can’t win over. It’s a job. Be civil with your coworkers. You only have to get along, be part of the team—” I can’t believe this is happening right now. I am so fucking hard, it aches. “—and do your job. Keep it low, keep it cool, and let them come to you.”
And let me come inside you.
“That makes sense,” he mumbles. “I guess I’ve just been—”
“You wanna keep talking about dogs and jobs and feelings?” I cut him off. “Or do you want to grab hold of my ass you’ve been staring at all night while I slide my dick inside you so hard, every nerve in your body sings?”
He freezes. He’s no longer blinking. His mouth can’t close.
I fight a victorious smirk, then slip my hands around his back, bringing his hips against mine where they belong. “You feel that throbbing in my pants, boy?”
“I’m not a boy.”
I look down at him, boring my eyes into his face. “You feel that throbbing in my pants … Trevor?”
At the sound of his name, he shuts his eyes and bites his lip. Then, without a word, he just nods.
“That’s how bad I got it for you,” I tell him, “and it’s so bad, my pants can’t contain it anymore. Big Ben wants to come out and meet you, Trevor.”
“It’s funny,” Trevor blurts suddenly, all nervous and rambling again. “All through school, I never had time at all for a boyfriend, let alone some hook-up in a seedy downtown nightclub. Really, I’m sort of wondering who I am right now, and what he’s done with Trevor, the guy whose only goal in life was to get good grades, impress his mentors, and secure himself a successful future. You know, so as not to let down Mom and Dad. Always Mom and Dad. But what does Trevor want? I don’t know. I don’t drink wine. I don’t drink at all, actually.”
There’s a whimper at the foot of the stairs. Both of us turn. Lance stands there with wary eyes, not moving. He stares at the two of us, deadpan.
I guess he heard us talking about him.
“Lance,” murmurs Trevor thoughtfully, staring back.
I take the world’s biggest mental sigh, willing myself to be patient. Is it physically possible for a dick to explode from lack of stimulation or release? I might need to Google this in the next five seconds before I break my own balls. Four seconds … Three …
“Don’t have a lot of boyfriends?” I get out, my throat tightened and my words clipped.
In the next instant, Trevor separates from me and lifts his hands in surrender, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
I grab my junk, forced to adjust myself from all the tightness down there. “What? Why?”
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” I’m staring at him, completely at a loss.
Trevor backs into the coffee table, flips over it, and in his effort to regain balance, the back of his hand smacks into a candy dish, sending it flying off. The dish shatters with a loud crack that sends my dog running away. The raucous noise is replaced by the soft sounds of little candy pieces rolling and tapping along the tile.
“Oh my God!” Trevor’s hands go to his mouth. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!” He gets up. “I-I’m sorry! It was a total accident!”
“Accidents happen.” I stare at the mess on the floor.
“I’ll replace it. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for—” He stops, bites his lip, then adds, “It was five billion dollars, wasn’t it? That bowl? I’ll owe you my whole week’s pay. Oh my God.”
“Wal-Mart.”
He lifts his eyebrows at me. When he sees that I’m teasing him, a flicker of relief hits his eyes.
It’s short-lived. He takes a step, discovers his pants came loose somehow, and they drop to his ankles at once, thwarting the step he’s trying to take. Trevor goes nose-diving into the floor.
I’m at his side in seconds. “Trevor. You alright?”
His eyes flash as he curls onto his side. “I fell on my dick.”
“Huh?”
“I broke your cute glass bowl, and I fell on my dick.” He cups his crotch. “I think it’s okay. I’m not. This was such a mistake. I shouldn’t have followed Elijah’s stupid, stupid advice.”
My face wrinkles. “Who the hell’s Elijah?”
Trevor reaches to pull his pants up with one hand while keeping his junk gripped firmly by the other—not that I would have seen anything with his briefs still on.
His tight, sexy black briefs.
Yes, even in this situation, I’m still fighting the urge to tackle Trevor right back to the floor, rip off those briefs of his, and take him. I can’t ignore the beast when it’s been let out to play.
But apparently Trevor can. He’s already halfway to the door, and I still don’t know what the hell I did. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not the guy you were looking for tonight,” he throws over his shoulder, half-looking at me as he walks. “Sorry for being a big waste of time. Really. If I led you on, I’m sorry. I’m just not … I just can’t—”
He crashes into the door.
I sigh. “You planning to go home on a stretcher?”
He turns and scowls at me, rubbing his rosy cheek. I guess the crash sounded worse than it actually was. Then, as if he literally wasn’t aware of the fact that he’s still half dressed, a hand flies up to his chest, a look of alarm on his face. “My shirt,” he exclaims.
I fetch it from the floor, then hold it in front of me, waiting. No, I don’t bring it to him; I make him come to me.
And he does. He stands before me now in all his pretty boy glory, his expression turning sheepish when he takes the shirt.
But I don’t let go. “Why are you fleeing, Trevor? Tell me.”
He scowls again, trying to pull the shirt from my powerful grip. “Let go. Please.”
“Why are you running off like a scared cat? Did I scare you?”
“I hate cats.”
“You honestly telling me you don’t want any of this?” I give a demonstrative gesture down my body with my free hand. His tug-of-war efforts with his shirt do nothing to budge me in the least.
He stops struggling and stares me down, angry at once.
I lift an eyebrow. “Looks like I struck a nerve.”
“A nerve?” He takes a step closer, coming nearly nose to nose with me. “You must think awful highly of yourself, Ben. You throw around all your money in my face, like that’s supposed to impress me or something.”
“Huh?”
“Six-hundred-dollar this. Two-thousand-dollar that. You think that’s all some guy like me cares
about? Money? Ass? Wine?”
“No. I’m pretty sure you care about at least one other thing.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Like what I’m packing in my pants.”
He huffs so hard, I have to fight a smile. I can’t get enough of this dude. The battle’s not lost yet. I’ll get him to stay.
Using the shirt as a tether of sorts, I yank him closer, then slowly lean into his ear. “It’s big,” I promise him in a whisper.
He pulls away and scalds me with his glare. “You looked at me across the club, and all you saw was an easy lay. You didn’t see—or care to see—anything deeper. Maybe all the other guys you’ve fished out of that dirty hole of a nightclub were quick to bite and quicker to … to fuck.” Now it’s his turn to lean into my ear. “But I’m not one of those pretty boys. And I’ll never be.”
I shut him up by pulling his face against mine and forcing a kiss on his lips. He resists for only a split second before, with a tiny sigh of delight—we’ll say it’s delight—he succumbs to my kiss.
When it ends, our hips remain pressed against one another. We’re still gripping the shirt tightly, a thread or two popping from the tension. I watch him lick his lips, as if tasting me on them.
Then I flex my cock. His flexes in response, which causes him to look up at me with a glint of surprise in his eyes.
I smirk superiorly. “I knew you still wanted me.”
Trevor rolls his eyes, lets go of the shirt at once, and heads for the door.
“Hey,” I call out at him. “Your shirt.”
He stops with the door half open and turns to me. “I know exactly what kind of guy you are,” he decides. “You, Ben, are just another rich, cocky prick who thinks he can purchase a guy like me and make him fall to his knees in front of your big, manly cock.”
“Oh, so you’ve noticed?” I counter, my shirt still off, my pants still open, and my bulge in plain view of this sexy young man—this sexy young man who still hasn’t left, who lingers at the door, who I still have a chance with.
His face reddens. “That’s not what I—” He shakes his head, flustered, then shuts his eyes. “I-I was saying—”