Peter looks. Sebastian’s cock, hard and flushed as he pulls his underwear down, the waistband resting under his fat balls, practically offering them up for Peter’s mouth.
“You come too,” he says, reaching for him.
“How do you think I should come? Just a hand job? Just a blow job?” His tone makes it damn clear that isn’t what Sebastian wants. “When my perfect slut is here with the sweetest hole? When you’re working that wood and empty inside?”
Peter knows he hasn’t misunderstood. “How?”
“You get to control it. I’d sit on the couch,” he says, the words gentle and soft. Coaxing as he touches Peter’s chest. “Whatever my good slut needs. You can take your time. But I want to come with my dick in you. If I’m going to come, then don’t you want it? You made me hard, baby.”
“Sebastian,” he pleads. “ButI’mgoing to come.” He sounds petulant to his own ears. It’s all he can think about. He doesn’t have enough brain cells to think clearly.
“No. Not yet,” he says and stops touching Peter. Peter’s cock is straining. They both watch as a dangerous moment passes.
Peter whines and nuzzles into Sebastian's collarbone. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna?—”
“Poor boy,” he says. It’s not sincere.
“You’re mean. Don’t stop,” he says, because he loves it. He knows it makes him an idiot, but he does.
“You can always say no. I’m just telling you what I want. I think you can take it. Don’t pretend you don’t want to come crying on my cock.”
Peter blushes. He can imagine it. Sebastian would be sweet to him, after. “Will you like it more that way?”
“What do you think?” He pinches Peter’s nipple hard, twists the bud. It’s painful and yet somehow fond.
It’s hard to stand up, but Peter does. Sebastian turns the stove off, grabs oil and a towel in one hand, and then he’s picking up the condom.
Peter can’t look away. As if he’s a dog and his owner has a treat or a ball in hand.
This is Peter’s chance to say no. To save himself.
“I want it,” he whispers.
“Course you do. Take my hand. Lead the way, sweetheart.”
Which is worse. He’s leading the way to his own destruction.
He must have obeyed because they’re suddenly in the living room. Sebastian puts the towel down and sits on it, legs spread. He grips his cock, so beautiful and dark with lust. Gets himself ready while he stares at Peter.
The condom. The oil. His strong hand stroking his own cock, waiting for Peter to take what he wants.
Which is where Peter’s courage fails him.
“I’m scared.”
“Yeah, I can see it on your face. But that’s not the only thing I see. You’re so beautiful it’s hard to look at, you know? But sad. And lonely. If you sit on my cock, you won’t be lonely. But you don’t have to. Say no, and I’ll blow you like I promised. You have a really nice cock. I’ll be sweet to you if it’s too much, baby. I’m just being a greedy asshole, seeing how you respond. I promise I’ll be just as happy doing something else.”
“No,” Peter says firmly. He doesn’t like being given an out. He likes the cajoling menace, the faux kindness Sebastian is an expert at. “It’s just a lot. I… I do want you inside.”
“I believe you. You’re incredible. How can I be this lucky? Come on, let’s get you seated. You’re mine now, aren’t you? Come on, I need you.”
“Oh,” Peter whispers and goes closer.
Peter gets his legs planted on either side of Sebastian’s hips, hovering over his groin. “What is this? Are you a Dom? A top? Are you now my Dom?”
“Yes.” As if the answer is simple. Sebastian slumps down on the couch. His touch is gentle but hurried. He’s eager for Peter, his cock hard and much too large.
“It’s your own pace. You take it however you need to. God, you’re incredible. Oh, good boy. Cry for me. Fuck, let me see it,” he says, gaze riveted on Peter’s face.
