“Is your cock hard?” Remington’s voice shattered with every syllable.
“Yes.”
“Sebastian.” Remington’s fingers tightened, giving him the softest tug. “Take it out of your pants.”
Sebastian fumbled at his waistline, tearing open his belt and shoving down his fly. He slipped the waistband of his briefs below his balls and cradled his erection in his hand. Remington’s eyes fell closed and he stepped away, his hand leaving Sebastian’s hair. Sebastian looked up, recognizing a bulge in Remington’s pants that led him to believe Remington was just as hard as he was, if not harder.
“Remington, can I ask you something?”
“Always,” Remington answered with wide eyes. “Anything.”
“Have you touched another man’s cock before?”
Remington’s cheeks darkened. “No.”
“Do you want to?” Sebastian wasn’t trying to control the situation, but it made no difference to him that Remington was a man. He wanted hands on him, maybe a mouth. He wanted to be touched and felt and manipulated. Waves of feelings he’d never planned for washed over him and he closed his hand around his length, giving himself a slow tug.
“I want to watch you,” Remington answered. He kicked the coffee table away and sat on it, then pointed to the couch. “Sit down.”
Sebastian moved onto the couch, sad to be off his knees, but fully aware that he still held every ounce of Remington’s attention. He situated himself and spread his legs, circling his fingers around the base of his cock and pointing it toward the ceiling. He dropped his head back with a groan, hoping he didn’t come on the spot.
“Do you…” he cleared his throat. “Do you want to tell me how to do it?”
A spark of arousal shot through him, leaving his fingers tingling with anticipation. He tightened his grip.
“I want you to do it the way you like,” Remington answered. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”
Sebastian raised his hand to his mouth and spat into his palm, then made a tight fist around his cock. A moan tumbled out of his mouth and he slammed his eyes closed, letting the sensations overtake him.
This wasn’t the first time Sebastian had jacked off, not by a long shot, but it was the first time another man had watched him, the first time he’d done it after being on his knees. So many firsts tangled together in his gut and his balls churned, raising high and tight against his body.
“Have you ever been fucked, Sebastian?”
Sebastian’s lashes fluttered. Something about hearing that question come out of Remington’s mouth was borderline indecent. Remington, with his doctorate and his books and his vocabulary and those fingers…
“Yes,” he answered, his voice barely more than a harsh exhalation. “My ex. With a strap-on.”
“Fuck.”
Noise came from the coffee table and Sebastian opened his eyes, finding Remington with those long fingers shoved down his pants, his arm moving furiously in time with Sebastian’s own strokes.
“Sebastian,” Remington asked softly, words escaping through clenched teeth. “Show me what you look like when you come.”
As he said the words, Remington leaned forward, his eyes rolling back before a groan ripped out of his throat. The hand not in his pants flew forward, landing hard against Sebastian’s knee, and Remington looked up, licking his lips and letting his stare wander from Sebastian’s straining cock to his face.
Their eyes locked, and it was over. Cum streaked out of Sebastian’s dick, splattering against his shirt, his hands, his slacks. He continued to work himself until his balls had emptied and his entire body seized with a tremor from being overused, then he flopped back against the couch with a sigh.
He’d done it.
Sebastian had kneeled for another man and then jacked off for him. He’d made himself come listening to Remington’s words, his noises. It was better than he’d thought it could be, more fulfilling than anything had been before.
Remington slid off the table, landing on his knees between Sebastian’s parted legs. He held himself steady with a hand on either of Sebastian’s thighs, and Sebastian noticed the sticky pools of cum gathered on his right hand.
“Was that too much?” Remington asked.
“No. It was… it was good.”
“Good.” Remington dropped his chin toward his chest and let out a breath. “I want to clean you up. Is that okay?”
