"Miss that big, thick cock of yours," he told the camera, trying not to feel silly. Trying to stay in the mood no matter how odd it felt, talking to himself like this. "Wish you were here right now. Wanna choke myself on you, then ride you all night.Oh, Papi — I know you'd feel so good."
But despite his words, Dylan’s cock refused to get with the program. For a moment, he considered reaching for some lotion, make the job nice and slick. But no — Dylan liked it a little rough, Liked the friction of a warm hand, just… not his own tonight, apparently.
God, Ashton's hand job had been a piss-poor attempt, but it'd been thrilling that he'd tried at all. His hand had been broad and firm, his mouth so curious and needy…
Dylan moaned, drawing his knee up until his heel was just brushing under the swell of his ass. That was fine. Good even. Give the viewer a bit of cheesecake, a flash of what was to come.
"Keep imagining all the things I want to do with you, Papi. Have you do to me,” he told them. “Been jerking off to it every night."
And oh, what would Ashton's mouth feel like? Those strawberry lips wrapped shiny and spit-slick around Dylan's cock?
Eyes fluttering shut, he was breathing fast now, his rhythm swift and greedy; swallowing up the rock-hard cock in his hand.
"You've got such a great cock, Papi," Dylan panted. "Can't wait to bounce on it. To feel you slide inside me, pound my poor little hole until I'm ruined for any man but you."
Ashton was big enough to make Dylan feel it too, wasn't he? Nice and thick, just like he liked 'em.
Dylan bit his lip hard, no longer having to pretend, shifting and flexing on his bed as he chased his peak.
Ashton had been so hesitant, but eager too. His kisses so charmingly ferocious, his body so willing.
"Wanna shove you down on this bed and suck you hard," he told camera-Ashton. "Lick my way up your entire body, and then just sink right down on your cock."
He could feel it coming now, his orgasm glimmering like the first blush of sunrise on the dawning horizon.
"Can you feel me, Papi? My ass so slick and sweet as I take your massive cock? You're gonna give it to me so good, aren't you? Gonna fuck us both stupid, leave me feeling you fordays."
That strawberry mouth had made the cutest little 'O' as Ashton got close, his brow furrowing, his body clenching so hot and tight around Dylan's finger.
He felt alive with it, his own panting filling the room enough that he could pretend it was two. That it was Ashton's fist onhis cock again, that he was here, kissing Dylan with that stupid, strawberry-sweet mouth —
"Ash—"
No!
"A-Ahhhhh— "Dylan barely caught himself, lost in the surge leaping through his spine, his cock, his fist and flooding his hand with a shower of sparkling light and thick, wet cum.
Blinking dazedly, his thoughts were wonderfully blank for the span of a thundering heartbeat or two. Awareness tickled at the edge of his mind, just enough that he lifted his hand, looking right into the camera as he licked away his own cum. Some viewers liked it — really,reallyliked it, in the case of one supporter that’d sent the $200 he’d paid Ian with — and some wouldn't. Most were quiet either way. But it bought him time while his brain rebooted, coming back online with the full knowledge that he might be the most pathetic guy on the planet, saying that foolish strawberry's name as he came.
On camera, too. Great. Gonna have to edit that out before uploading.
Orgasm over, and without even the regular patterns of the day to distract him, now it all crashed back in; post-nut clarity happily rushing to fill the hole left by Dylan's recent release.
This. This right here is why you don't get mixed up with straight boys.
Idiota.
Dylan had flown too high, maybe. Taking Ashton to the roof, pushing and pushing; he'd soared too close to the sun, and only gotten burned for it.
Snarling, he grabbed up the remote, slamming theStopbutton and throwing it onto the bed hard enough to bouncetwice before skittering off the edge. He heaved himself up, grabbing his phone out of the dinky plastic camera mount and thumbing it open to the texting app; typing out a 'FUCK YOU!' into the little bar of his and Ashton's convo faster than self preservation could fly.
It swooped in just as his finger hovered over the Send button; held rigid by the torrent of mixed emotions swirling through his chest so hard itached.
Jabbing at the off switch, hollowness filled him at the sight of his reflection in the darkened screen. He was still wearing the luchador mask he recorded in, verdant green with gold trim; Rey Verde, the Green King. He sneered at his alter ego, yanking the mask off without caring that it yanked sharply at one of his piercings.
Dropping both it and his phone to the floor, he flopped onto his bed with a huff and a bounce, throwing his arm over his eyes.
Oh. My. God.
What the fuck was he evendoing?
