‘It’s the sweat. This room’s a little warm.’ Or maybe it’s my face burning. Am I running a fever or is it the way he’s speaking to me? Those words, him saying them, it’s not like anything else I’ve experienced before.
‘No, it’s just you. The good person you are, how much you care about the sport, about your best friend, and about your little protégé.’ I wasn’t expecting this. My stomach flips at the praise. I am very used to hearing how good-looking I am– it’s par for the course with modelling side gigs and posting thirst traps on Instagram. But that’s not what he’s doing. He’s talking about what’s on my inside and it’s turning me to mush.
‘Caleb…’
He presses soft lips to my forehead, cutting me off, and then slides carefully off the bed. Grabbing the room-service menu, he peruses it, before picking up the room phone.
‘You don’t know what I want,’ I say from the bed as he clicks the number for the restaurant, but he just ignores me.
‘Hi, could I order some room service for room eight three seven, please? Sure, the card is on file. Can I do the steak frites, medium rare with the salsa verde. A cheeseburger with fries. Then a sharer avocado and beetroot salad. A ginger ale, a Diet Coke and a bucket full of ice please. Yep, that’s all, thank you.
‘Did I do okay?’ he asks as he hangs up, storing the menu back in its holder.
‘As long as that steak’s for me.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘How’d you know?’
‘You always ask for it when catering are taking suggestions, and do you know how many times you put a steak on your Insta stories when you’re out for dinner? Plus, you’ve eaten several on the dinner dates we’ve been on.’
‘You’ve been watching?’
‘Of course. Am I okay to hop in the shower? I’ve been in these clothes for too many hours and they feel a bit gross right now.’
‘Of course. You can borrow some sweats and a T-shirt if you want.’ The thought of him in my clothes is intensely arousing, even more so than the fact he just ordered my perfect dinner.
‘Give me ten.’ He shuffles into the bathroom, whilst I glug down half a bottle of water, my mouth a little dry. I could also really do with a piss, but I’m a bit scared of standing up right now with the pain being as bad as it was earlier.
I also really don’t want to have to ask the man I’m dating to help me to the bathroom. He’s seen my dick plenty, but I feel and look a bit weak right now.
He showers quickly and my jaw drops when he leaves the bathroom with just a towel hanging from his hips. His hair’s wet, water droplets dripping down his chest. What I wouldn’t give to be able to chase them with my tongue. I want him so much, but he’s right, I’m too injured to do much tonight.
‘T-shirts are in the top drawer,’ I say gesturing to the dresser. ‘There’s fresh sweatpants still in my suitcase.’
He grabs them both and then a pair of my boxers, which almost leaves me panting, and pulls them on. Everything’s a little big on him, but it’s a sight I want to remember forever. I unlock my phone to snap a picture and add it into the folder of us. ‘You look fucking incredible in my clothes. Come here.’
I pat the spot next to me on the bed and he slides right in. ‘How about I take care of that.’ He grazes a hand over where I’m erect under the duvet and I groan. ‘But you have to lie still, okay?’
‘I thought I had to be a good boy first and eat all my dinner?’
‘We could wait, but that looks mighty uncomfortable to me.’
I’m not about to protest, so I just nod. He peels back the duvet and I’m glad that I stripped down to just my boxers when they got me comfortable in bed, because now he has easy access.
He doesn’t even pull them down, just fishes my dick out and smears the pre-cum from my slit over my length. I have to force my hips to stay pinned to the bed because they are crying out to buck up right now and chase his hand. ‘Fuck, Caleb, that feels so good, I can’t even tell you. Love you touching me.’
His hand cups my balls and another filthy moan slips from between my lips as I watch him shuffle down the bed until he’s got his knees either side of mine and is eyeing my dick like it’s tonight’s meal.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says. His words are soft but in one swooping motion his mouth is taking my dick right to the back of his throat. This is something I never expected from polite, boy-next-door, Caleb Hughes. He sucks dick like a trooper and it’s mind-blowingly incredible. I’m going to come way too quickly if he doesn’t slow down.
He hums around my length, the vibrations causing my balls to twitch and draw up, and as he pulls away, he strokes his tongue along the underneath of my shaft. I’m fucked. I’m truly fucked. His hand disappears beneath my balls– and this time sweeps into my crack, massaging my hole. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m a goner.
His lips part again and the tip of my cock is poking down his throat and there’s spit drooling out of either side of his mouth. He’s not gagging, though, and I watch his throat as it relaxes, letting him take me even further down. It’s frankly pornographic. No one should look this good choking on a dick. He makes it look effortless– and when his wet finger circles my hole and enters me I can’t hold back anymore. I unload straight down his throat.
‘Jesus Christ.’ I’m pretty sure I entered another stratosphere for a moment. Everything goes fuzzy and there are stars flickering in my vision as my cock softens in his mouth. It’s never been this good in my whole life.
He pulls his mouth off me, cum dribbling down his chin. ‘It’s Caleb Hughes, actually.’
