“Stop. It was perfect. Amazing. Feeling your mouth on me, even for a minute…” He made this gruff noise, almost like a growl. “So hot. So hot and so fucking tight. Fuck, I’m hard just thinking about it.”
Butterflies took flight in Bowie’s stomach. “Show me?”
Javier panned the camera away from himself, showing the tip of his dick peeking out from beneath the band of his black briefs. Bowie bit his lip, riveted as he slid them down, his erection springing free. He was definitely hard, the skin almost purple and wet at the tip. Bowie wanted to taste it, taste him. He wished he could remember the details of their brief bedroom encounter.
“Your turn, angel.”
Bowie suddenly had stage fright. It wasn’t that he thought he was lacking in some way. He’d worked hard to make sure he was in peak form physically. He’d taken about a million up close and personal pictures of every part of his body in the past.
But this was different. Heavier. He’d seen Javier naked, had felt his skin beneath his fingertips, had tasted him, even if only briefly. Javier hadn’t had the same opportunity. Bowie’s body was all new to him and knowing that gave this moment weight.
“You don’t have to. You know that right?” Javier asked, so understanding Bowie wanted to cry.
Bowie took a deep breath and let it out, pushing his underwear down and off before turning the camera for Javier to see how hard he was.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Bowie didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t have to because Javier wasn’t done. “I can’t stop thinking about you, haven’t been able to since the first day I walked you home. I came so hard thinking about you that night.”
Bowie’s breath hitched, his hand running along his thigh and belly before closing around his cock, squeezing it hard with a moan. “What else did you think about?”
“Kissing you, kissing that mouth, working my way to your jaw, your throat, your ear, just so I could tell you how much you fucking turn me on.”
Bowie’s cock oozed pre-cum. He rubbed his thumb across it, smearing it over the head. “Yeah?” he managed.
“Oh, yeah. I want to touch you everywhere. I want my tongue everywhere. I want to know how every part of you tastes, smells, feels. I want to hear you moan my name while I suck you off. I wanna feel the weight of your cock in my hand while you ride me. I wanna watch you get yourself off on my cock, using me.”
“Oh, fuck,” Bowie whispered, his hand stroking his cock, the dry catch of his palm against his dick just this side of painful.
Maybe Bowie should have jerked off in the shower. In all his years on the planet, it occurred to him that he’d never had phone sex with a single other soul, and he’d most definitely never had video chat sex.
“You touching yourself, angel?”
Bowie whimpered. “Yeah.”
“Let me see.”
Bowie propped the camera up against Javier’s stack of books, giving him an unfettered view of Bowie’s whole body.
“That’s some view. That’s it. Touch yourself for me. Make yourself feel good. Pretend it’s my hand.”
Javier’s words were thick, his voice raw. When Bowie glanced at the screen, he could see Javier’s body, too, could see him playing with his nipples, could see the way he stroked himself hard and fast, seemingly bringing himself to the brink of orgasm and then stopping.
“Don’t stop,” Bowie heard himself say. “I wanna watch you come.”
“You first, angel. I wanna hear you come with my name on your lips.” Bowie couldn’t help the half-bitten off sound that escaped. “If you need some help, there’s lube next to the bed,” Javier said.
Bowie wasn’t sure he needed any help at all. He was so close a slight breeze might knock him off the edge, but he fumbled for it anyway, drizzled it in his hand, biting his lip at the smooth glide of his fist over his aching cock.
“That’s it, angel. Close your eyes, pretend it’s my hand touching you.”
Bowie did close his eyes, bending his knees, digging his heels into the mattress as he rolled his hips up, fucking his cock into his tightened fist, his other hand massaging his balls, teasing his fingers between his cheeks, not pushing inside but just touching, just enough to imagine it was Javier’s hand on his cock, his fingers playing over his hole, maybe even his tongue. Bowie’s orgasm was like a spring coiling tighter inside him, his whole body tensing as pulses of pleasure danced along his skin.
“Yeah, angel. There you go. You’re doing so good. You look so hot.”
“I’m gonna come,” Bowie moaned. “Javier. I’m gonna…” His words died on his tongue as his brain fell offline, ecstasy washing over him as his release spilled over his fist, his body shaking as he sucked in ragged breaths.
When he could think again, he grabbed the phone. “Your turn.”
Javier laughed. “You think I could watch you do that and hold out?” He turned his phone so he could see the cum drying on his belly, stark against the bright colors of his tattoo. “Not a chance. You are the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
