Only I was twenty-six now, very nearly twenty-seven.And beyond the ghosts in me that wanted to cringe away, there was the Oli that heard the rasp of lust in his friend’s voice, and saw the way his pupils had swollen into inky pools.Who’d felt Flynn’s own hardness in those few, fleeting moments as he carried me from the kitchen.
We weren’t kids any more.
I forced my shoulders to relax, my jaw to soften.Coy didn’t suit me, either.
“If it’s because of you,” I told him, “you have to take care of it.”
“There you go, threatening me with a good time.”He was still humming assent as he dropped to his knees in front of me.
Hands on my hips, perhaps to steady himself, perhaps because Flynn feared I might pull away at the last moment.Force denial upon him, as he’d once forced it upon himself.Dipping his face to nuzzle into the crease of my groin; press his nose against me, as though to worm his way between my thighs.A reverence to it, albeit one shot through with growing hunger.
I gasped when his lips found me.Brushing, smooth and warm, and then his tongue extending to lavish a long, slow stroke along me.Mouth opening at that final moment.
And then the heat of him, the wet, squeezing, sucking embrace.A pleasure which threatened to shake my legs from under me, my hands in Flynn’s hair as I clung and squirmed.Bracing my bare shoulders on the wall.
His groan of pleasure sent vibrations shuddering through me.Amplified as he gulped me down further; until I could feel his lips brush my skin, and some haze of triumph in his narrowed eyes as he stared up.
There was no way to hold back my whimper as he began working on me in earnest.Hungry and relentless: an inversion of any dominance I might’ve felt, having him on his knees at my feet.
I was panting when he finally pulled off.Trying desperately to catch my breath again.
“Bedroom,” he demanded, and seemed content with my shaky nod of compliance.
Flynn stripped as he went; shirt, and jeans, and finally shoving down his briefs just before he sat down on the edge of the mattress.Pulling me to him by my waist, forcing me to kneel across his thighs as he guided me back between his lips.
Only now, my legs splayed across his own, his hands had far more liberty.Fingers skating around the curve of my ass; squeezing my cheeks, gently at first, but then harder, more eagerly.Flynn simultaneously groping me as he urged my hips into faster strokes, and then the gasp - escaping me without hope of stopping it - as he brushed my ass and I knew - a bright, burning kernel of awareness - that my childhood friend was going to fuck me.
Each pump of my hips saw me grinding back harder against his hands, his fingertips bolder and more aggressive.Sweat and spit enough, as I hugged Flynn’s head to me while my eyes rolled back.My body softening to him, to his focussed intent: not rough but unapologetic, as though my compliance was a foregone conclusion.Trusting that I’d protest if I disagreed, even if his tongue was stealing my ability to speak with its devious lapping.
He fought the cinch of my arms to pull back.One hand stroking me, while he stared up with a messy grin.
“I like the noises you make.”
“Shut up,” I told him, blushing.Cuffed him across the side of the head, though Flynn’s smile remained undimmed.
He leaned in, to lick me like a popsicle.Smirking at my grunt in response.
“Can I eat your ass?”
I stuck out my tongue.“I dunno, can you?”
Flynn chuckled.“Wise-guy.”
I probably should’ve expected him to unbalance me, to topple me over on the bed.After all, we’d roughhoused enough as kids that I had plenty of experience with Flynn’s dirty tactics.
He rolled onto me, straddling my legs while I was still grunting with the surprise of it.“Fuck, you look delicious.”
I was mustering my outraged protest when he bent and licked across me.All words gone, then; fled from my brain, as the sparks of pleasure reverberated up my spine.
He wasn’t my first, but he was definitely my best.Tongue digging, fingers pulling and stroking.Teasing my shivering flesh one moment, then fiercely overwhelming me the next.
“Come on,” I grunted, voice muffled as I clawed at the sheets and drooled fit to soak them.Infuriated by his chuckle in response, only to instantly lose the thread of my frustration when the vibrations of that laugh strummed me in new, fascinating directions.
I wanted to look back, to see what exactly I was about to get willingly skewered with, only the muscles in my body weren’t responding.Little I could do, in fact, beyond writhe from his focused attentions.
The mattress shifted; I heard the scrape of the nightstand drawer.The rasp of foil tearing.Managed to turn my whimper of frustration into a grunt at the last minute, as his fingers were replaced with the cold trickle of lube.
“Come on...”
