“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“It’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one who fainted.”
Thomas clicked his tongue to the top of his mouth. “That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“Of course it does.”
“Why?”
Scott looked away. “It feels like I let you down.”
“You couldn’t be more fucking wrong if you tried,” Thomas murmured. He slid his arm around Scott’s back, grabbed his waist and yanked him closer. “Sit on my lap.”
“What? Why?”
“I want you sat on my lap while we watch it together.”
Scott resisted, pulling a frown. “I don’t know…”
“Do you think two thousand people are wrong?”
“I think it might be…uncomfortable to watch, like listening to your own voice or seeing yourself attempt to act.”
“Your wrecked and worn-out voice is crazy hot.” Thomas tugged, and Scott relented, slipping onto his lap. “And there’s no acting involved.”
“But…”
“A few minutes…then I’ll stop it if you don’t like it.”
“Fine.” Scott rolled his eyes and hit play.
Scott was pretty sure it was unacceptable to get that sexually frustrated while watching yourself. There must’ve been something deep-seated in the human psyche that said no, it was not allowed, it was self-deprecating, bad for the species, a disaster for all of humanity to be turned on by yourself. It was vanity, arrogance, perhaps it even had threads of incest, but it was happening.
Scott was getting aroused by himself.
For the first few minutes of the video, Scott had scrunched his face up at the sheer awkwardness, but then, after the first orgasm was out of the way, things started to happen.
Things happened to present Scott because of what was happening to the past one on screen. Thomas using the word ‘pussy’ was enough to give him chills, and watching his body contort as he chased his first prostate orgasm had him peeking through his fingers like the climax of a horror film.
He was sat on Thomas’s lap, hard, and mortified all at once, which was an odd combination.
“Put them down,” Thomas ordered, and Scott dropped his hands into his lap. He endured watching the video, grimacing at everything he could remember while his cock twitched and throbbed in his jeans, and Thomas remained deathly silent at his back.
Then things began to change. Scott changed. He didn’t recognise the out-of-control man on screen, cursing and growling through the overstimulation. His cheeks turned crimson, his hair was a mess as he tossed and turned, and he stretched out his neck, showing the veins and tendons all close to the surface as he fought to get to the other side.
When he did, he collapsed, going boneless, stretching out his legs as the pump kept on sucking him and the buzzing of the vibrator inside him got louder. Thomas praised him, stroking Scott’s chest, his hair, his face. The Scott on screen was blissed out, unaware of his surroundings, looking at Thomas like he was a god that had pulled him away from the brink.
“Can I touch you?” Thomas asked, startling Scott back to the present.
“Erm.” Scott fumbled for the top of his jeans, undoing his button and zip to relieve some of the pressure. “Yeah,” he breathed. “That would help a lot.”
He cursed himself for being presumptuous. Thomas didn’t touch Scott’s cock; he stroked his hands beneath his shirt, groping Scott’s chest before zeroing in on his nipples. Thomas pulled on them, then nudged the side of Scott’s face with his nose, getting him to keep watching as he was played with.
It was building again. Scott’s cock tingled with the memory of it, the relentless sensation, the sound, the sight when Thomas lifted his head for him to watch.
That viewing window. The head of his cock compressing with each pump.
His voice from the video came out panicked, warning Thomas over and over it was coming,itmeaning the next orgasm. He sounded fearful of it, looking to Thomas for guidance, who shushed him, stroking his hair, and told him he’d be okay.
