Page 10 of Topping Off the Alien

My cock jerks, and a bead of precum wells up at the tip and slides down. Solverian chases it with the flat of his tongue, then licks his bottom lip as if sealing the taste in.

“Fuck.” My hand finds his hair, and when I slide my fingers through it, he leans into the touch. That small surrender makes my cock twitch again.

He goes lower, his mouth trailing down, and then his tongue is on my balls. I grunt, my head dropping back against the bed.

The women I’ve been with rarely did this, going straight to the prize. But Solverian is down there like he’s got nowhere else to be, mouthing at me thoroughly, and my thighs are shaking.

I lift my head to watch and notice his hips rocking against the mattress in slow, grinding rolls, fucking the bed without seeming to realize he’s doing it. The sight punches the air out of me.

He comes back to my cock, kisses up the shaft, and takes the head into his mouth, sucking softly. I pet his hair and breathe through it and think okay, okay, I can survive this.

Then he moves, rising up and swinging a leg over me in one smooth motion. He turns, and suddenly he’s facing away, straddling my chest, his weight braced on his knees on either side of my ribs. Before I can fully process the new geometry, he bends back down and takes me into his mouth again, deeper this time, and sucks hard.

Holy shit.

The head of my cock nudges the back of his throat, and I curse at the ceiling, my hips bucking up off the bed. Instead of pulling back, he adjusts his angle and keeps sucking. I push up into the wet heat of his mouth again, gentler, and he hums approval around me.

“Fuck, Sol,” I groan. “That’s it. Don’t stop. Keep going, just like that.”

His whole body goes still for half a second, and I realize I've shortened his name. He doesn’t correct me, though. He makes a low sound in his chest and goes back to work, his head bobbing, his lips sealed tight around me, sucking as if my taste is the only thing keeping him alive. Which, if I understand his situation, is sort of true.

Then he shifts his hips back, and his crotch comes level with my face. I stop being able to think about anything else.

He’s huge. I knew that. I saw it in the bathroom earlier. But having it six inches from my nose is a totally different experience. His gray underwear is stretched over him, the fabric pulled drum-tight, and there’s a dark wet patch right where the crown presses against it. His cock runs down along his thigh under the cloth, thick and heavy and straining, and I can’t tear my gaze away from it.

I have never in my life wanted to touch another man’s dick. It’s never even occurred to me as something I’d want. But right now, I can’t help myself, so I reach up and stroke him through the fabric.

“Fucking hell, Sol,” I breathe. “Look at you. You’re so big.”

Instead of answering, he sucks me so hard my vision goes white at the edges, my toes curling into the covers. I have to concentrate to keep from finishing right away.

I keep stroking him, the fabric letting me feel every ridge underneath. His cock twitches under my palm every time I pass over the crown. His hips start moving, small hitching thrusts, chasing my hand while his mouth stays busy on me.

“You like it, huh?” I hear myself say.

He hums, the vibration traveling straight through my cock and up my spine.

“You’re so fucking huge, but you’re a little slut for me, aren’t you? Down there loving my cock. Begging for me to touch you like this.”

His hips speed up, rutting against my hand, and the constellation on his chest is glowing so brightly that I can see the light of it even from this angle.

I turn my head, press my face into the inside of his thigh, and just breathe. He smells incredible: clean skin and warm musk that go straight to the animal part of my brain and flip every switch. I open my mouth against his thigh and taste him. Sol shudders, his rhythm stuttering. I feel smug about that for approximately one second before he recovers and sucks me into oblivion.

Pressure is winding up at the base of my spine, and I know if I keep stroking him like this he’s going to come too, right into his underwear. And that feels unfair.

I get both hands on the waistband and pull his briefs down over his hips. His cock springs free and lands heavy against my wrist.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I grunt.

Up close, he’s long and thick and flushed deep, darker than the rest of him, the crown broad and wet, his balls heavy. I wrap my hand around him and my fingers barely meet. There’s no universe in which I could get half of it in my mouth, but I stroke him root to tip, and he growls around my cock.

I grit my teeth and hold my orgasm back by sheer stubbornness, because I’m not done. I want to watch him fall apart.

So I get to work, jerking him in earnest, twisting a little over the head the way I like it done to me, gambling that some things are universal. Judging by the way his thighs tense on either side of me, some things are.

“That’s it,” I pant. “Take it.” His breath stutters around my cock, so I keep pushing. “Fuck, who knew you’d be such a little whore for it? Bet you could come hands-free, just from sucking my... ah, fuck—“

I come so hard my whole body locks, my hips driving up and my hand clamping down on his cock. I shoot down his throat in long pulses that go on and on. He takes all of it, swallowing around me, drinking me like I’m water in a desert, and through the roaring in my ears I feel the current between us spike.