“Are you ok? Did he hurt you? Why didn’t you wait for me? I was so worried—” I’m not entirely sure what comes over me. Later, I’ll plead temporary insanity. Brandon’s jaw snaps shut as I lower myself to my knees in front of him. Shaky hands reach out to tug his athletic shorts and boxer briefs down. His body coils as I lean forward to breathe in his scent, nuzzling his growing cock until it stands proud from the trimmed thatch of sandy blonde hair.
It's more beautiful than the first time I saw it all those weeks ago in the shower. Perhaps because I know for certain that he’s hard because of me. Or it could just be that Brandon possesses the most exquisite piece of fleshy machinery I’ve ever seen. Above average length, a slight curve to the right, the circumcised head ruddy and broad, the girth mouthwatering. My hole clenches at the thought of feeling it. I swallow hard knowing I never will. That’s not what this is about. I know we can’t happen, but maybe, just this once…
I stick out my tongue and lap across his slit. Brandon’s body jolts and he stumbles back a few steps until he’s leaningagainst the wall. I can’t look at his face, don’t want to see disappointment, disgust, or anger. His body is responding without his permission, but he’s not stopping me as I crawl the few feet to kneel at his feet once more. He’ll probably be upset or pissed after he cums, but I don’t care. His fierce protectiveness, the frantic way he checked if I was unharmed, the desperation in his voice…so fucking sexy. Tasting him is a compulsion, a persistent itch beneath my skin.
Just this once…
I run my fingers up and down his length, teasing him, marveling at how fast his body responds, his cock twitching, growing and thickening and begging for relief. His heavy balls hang low. I wrap my fist around him and point his cock up, then lean in and trace his sac with my tongue. He shudders, sighs, and seems to melt a little at my touch. When I suck one of his balls into my mouth, he emits this shocked, almost scandalized sound that settles in my groin, urging me on. I stroke him lazily, and suck the other ball, rubbing the frenulum under the head back and forth with my thumb.
Brandon Beiler whimpers. And it breaks me. I drop his sac and glide my tongue up the underside of his shaft, circle the head, open my mouth and descend. I don’t suck, just let the head and shaft drag across my tongue as I relax my throat and keep going until he’s lodged in my throat and his trimmed pubes tickle my nose.
“Fuck,” his curse is a whisper. I smile around his cock, then slowly pull my head back until I lick around the head once again. His hands dive into my hair, tugging and urging me back down. I happily oblige, this time adding suction as he fills my throat. I bob up and down for several moments before his grip in my hair tightens and nature takes over, his hips thrusting, seeking something warm, wet, and deep. He fucks my mouth,and I love every fucking second of it. I treasure every moan and uttered expletive. My hands drop to his thighs, and I whine at the restrained strength in the furred skin and muscle. His scent fills my lungs, and I know I will never forget it for the rest of my life. The memory of his taste and sound and touch is embedded, this moment has forever changed me, and Brandon Beiler will always be a part of who I am.
I am his, even if he doesn’t want me the way I want him. The way I crave him as if without him I will starve. I wonder if love is enough if you are the only one who feels it?
“Oscar…I’m gonna cum—” he groans in pleasure when I suck harder, wanting his release, needing to drink his pleasure more than I need to breathe, knowing it’s the only part of him I can ever truly have. His body slumps forward, bending over me as he fills my mouth. I let it sit on my tongue for just a few seconds, before reluctantly swallowing it. He slips from my mouth and breathes heavily, his back against the wall. I wipe my mouth and chin, attempt to stand up and fail. I’m too aroused, too nervous. Brandon’s hand appears in front of my eyes, and I force myself to accept his help. My legs shake, threatening to collapse, but Brandon steadies me with his hands on my hips. I close my eyes and wait for him to explode, maybe hit me, or at least leave. Post-nut clarity is a bitch, especially for someone who isn’t attracted to men. To some, a blow job is a blow job and unfortunately, I’ve mistakenly trusted that who I was with in the bathroom of a club knew what he was doing.
Instead, Brandon exhales, and drags me into his arms, his cheek resting against the top of my head. Overwhelmed and still horny, with adrenaline leeching from my body at an alarming rate, I start to cry. How sad that him holding me, hugging me, an act of kindness most take for granted, is what sends me over the edge. I fight to keep it silent, not wanting to embarrass myself further.
“Why did you do that?” he whispers hoarsely. I don’t pretend to not know what he’s referring to and I find that I don’t want to lie or deny. With my face buried in his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around me, I allow myself to be vulnerable.
“Because…because I had to.” I feel him stiffen, holding his breath.
“Because I stopped Heacock? Youowedme?”
“God, no!” I can’t believe…I guess I can see why he would interpret my words in such a way, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. “No. Yes. Not exactly.” I take a deep calming breath and try again. “You were so protective of me, and so sexy, all menacing and fierce. God, your voice in the locker room…I just wanted…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just attacked your cock. I just…I’m sorry.”
I attempt to pull away, put distance between us, and then run out of my own apartment, but Brandon hugs me tighter, preventing me from moving. “You just what?” He prompts, his tone encouraging even as it cuts me open forcing me to spill my secrets. Damn, he’s good.
“I’ve been half in love with you for a year and all the time we’ve been spending together…I know you aren’t interested, you aren’t gay or bi or whatever, but I just had to touch you, taste you, feel you move inside me, even if only in my mouth.”
“Jesus,” Brandon spits out, threads his fingers through my hair at the back of my head and tugs sharply, bringing my face up to meet his. I barely register the heat in his eyes, before he attacks my mouth. He doesn’t seem to care about his cum still lingering in my mouth. He just takes and takes, driving his tongue past my lips and fucking devours. Then I’m moving, but my eyes are closed, afraid if I open them, he’ll disappear, and I’ll be in an institution attacking a poor orderly.
My back hits the opposite wall, his broad muscular frame pressing into me. He surrounds me and I give into it, to the lust, the want, the need. I give in to him. The hand not using my hair to direct the angle and depth of his kiss, slides between us and grazes my throbbing erection over my sleep pants. I hiss into his mouth, moaning when he squeezes my shaft. His movements are sure and steady, but I can feel his heartbeat race, can feel his breathing grow choppy. He slips into my pajama pants, his hand now tracing my bare dick, moaning and grunting as he learns its shape and size and texture.
I push my pants down, letting them fall to my feet and giving him more access. Brandon continues to maul my mouth as he gives me an uncoordinated but confident hand job, and absolutely the best one I’ve ever received. I’m close, my hips start rocking into his fist. When he starts laughing my body stills, unsure what’s so funny.
Sensing my reaction, he pulls back to look me in the eye, the corners crinkled from his breathtaking smile. “It’s really difficult to jerk off someone else. The angle’s all wrong.” I drop my head back against the wall and laugh with him. It is difficult and takes some practice to figure it out. I’m happy to stand here and let him learn, though. Instead, he releases my dick, spins me around until my chest is against the wall, and reaches around me to grab my dick.
“Oh, fuck.” I mutter, realizing exactly how difficult it was for him because this is. So. Much. Better.
“There we go.” He bites my ear, nips at my neck, his hand strokes me faster and faster. When his other hand trails up my torso, finds my nipple through my shirt and pinches it, my back arches and I groan loud as cum erupts from my dick, coating the wall and his hand.
He slumps against my back, and I happily bear his weight even as I’m pressed against the wall. He kisses the back of my neck as he winds his arms around me and hugs me to him. I close my eyes with a sappy smile.
I don’t know what this means and frankly, I’m too tired to discuss it tonight. Right now, I’m gonna bask in the glow of an epic orgasm with the man who’s captured my heart.
Brandon 7.
I come awake slowly, fighting to stay in that serene state just on the edge of wakefulness for a little longer. I hum, snuggling closer to the warm body tucked against my chest. Smooth skin, long lines of subtle musculature, and coarse leg hair rubbing against my own.
Wait, what?
I blink rapidly, my eyes darting over short chestnut hair, bare rounded shoulders, the faint shading of facial hair on a strong jaw, and sparse chest hair near the prominent clavicle.
Not a woman.
No. It’s someone much, much better. It’s Oscar. I relax back into the bed, burying my face in his nape, and smile. Waking up in bed with someone isn’t unusual. It doesn’t happen often for me, but it’s happened. Waking up with a man, my body wrapped around his like I’m afraid he’ll disappear is new. But not unwelcome. He’s warm, soft, pliant, and snoring.
