Sebastian smiles at him, pleased. “Then I want to give it to you… Ask me,” he says firmly and waits.
Oh. But Sebastian knows? Why does he have to say it?
“I guess you don’t want it,” he says, sounding disappointed.
“Sebastian, please. I need it.” His cock throbs just from saying it. The shame of having to ask and put his desire out there, hoping Sebastian takes pity on him and lets him have pleasure.
“You do. I can see how much you need it. Sit down on the barstool and I’ll blow you.”
“But I hurt inside,” Peter says stupidly.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Sebastian says. He gets up, flips the toast, and grabs a barstool. Hard and wooden. “If you sit here, put your ass on this seat, then I’ll blow you.”
“I can’t. It’s going to hurt,” he says.
Sebastian goes back to the ground. He kisses Peter’s shaft, licks up it, and sucks on the head.
“Oh fuck. That feels incredible,” Peter gasps. He tries to press deeper into Sebastian’s mouth, but Sebastian pulls away.
“Sit down and I’ll keep going.”Peter glances at the hard surface again. “I’ll let you come. I’ll swallow you down. Take you deep into my throat.”
Peter whimpers, practically collapsing onto the stool. He yelps. He perches carefully. Sebastian is watching him hungrily.He grips his own cock through his underwear as Peter tries to get settled.
Then Sebastian sucks him into his mouth, and Peter collapses, leaning back because he needs support, agony blazing inside him in response. Every sensation contrasts with the pleasure encasing his shaft. He cries out and grabs Sebastian’s shoulder. He hurts everywhere. It’s brilliant.
“I’m going to come.”
Sebastian pulls off. “Sorry, the toast,” he says apologetically. He gets up, pats Peter’s thigh, kisses him fondly on Peter’s open mouth, and goes to the stove. Peter has a moment to breathe. His ass aches so badly. His cock is now purple, straining at how close he was.
Then Sebastian is back, swallows him down again, and Peter clenches inside, tries to get deeper into Sebastian’s mouth, wanting to be in his throat. He’s leaning forward, putting weight on his hole.
He has a moment where he thinks he might come. Or pass out. It’s unclear. Sebastian takes Peter’s hands off his thighs, prying them off and putting them in his hair.
Peter stares down at him, at Sebastian’s red lips open around him. How hard his own cock is, how tight and fat his balls are. He tries to spread his thighs wider, and there’s more pain radiating up through him. He urges Sebastian deeper with a soft touch, fingers moving through the silky strands of hair.
“I have to come. Fuck, I’m so close.”
Sebastian pulls off. “Toast,” he says, and Peter can hardly let him go. Sebastian kisses him on the mouth, and Peter chases his lips, leaning forward, which hurts.
“Poor baby. You’re so hard,” he says and steps to the stove. Peter’s cock is covered in spit, pre-come welling out of him. His balls are pulled up tight, and he’s flush against his stomach. He shifts on the seat and his hand finds his cock, starts to pump upand down. He presses into the seat, rocking just a little. The pain is so good. So fucking good now.
Sebastian is back. Kisses Peter’s parted lips. “I thought it hurt, honey? You were complaining. Now you’re acting like a slut with a big fat dildo up your ass. Do you need a cock, sweet thing?”
“No,” Peter gasps, needing to deny the shameful words. He stares at Sebastian’s red lips.
“You getting close?” Sebastian licks his lips. It’s obscene.
“Yeah. Please. Please, I need your mouth.” He puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, urging him down.
“Stop. Look at me,” Sebastian orders.
Peter stops. He gazes up at Sebastian, who is towering over him, only a few inches away.
“Guess what?”
“What?” Peter asks dumbly. His hand eases up and down the shaft of his own cock, needing the restriction.
“Look how hard you made me,” Sebastian says.
