It's Like This (13 page)

He slowly guides his cock into my mouth and I love the warm, sliding feeling of it over my tongue. I close my lips gently around the stalk and he sighs softly. “That’s my boy,” he says. His cock head bumps up against the back of my throat and my reflexes start, slightly. I repress a gag. He strokes the back of my head, leaning over me. “That’s it, baby. Keep breathing. Let me in.” There’s another nudge against my tonsils. I tilt my head back, straightening my throat, and swallow. Rylan follows the motion with his cock, and I coax him deeper with my tongue. There’s a moment’s resistance, but Ry persists, pushes until his cock is seated deep in my throat. His hand shifts to the back of my head and he holds me there, firmly but not tightly.

“That’s it, gorgeous, hold me there. Make me feel good. Keep me nice and hard so I can give you what you need. Suck at it, Nigh.”

I struggle to obey, breathing minimally through my nose, feeling my throat muscles pulse and flutter around the large intruder. I tighten my lips around his cock and try to generate some form of suction, but it’s difficult. I moan in frustration, wanting to please and hating to fail.

“That’s good, baby, you feel so good, you are so good. I’m gonna pull out now, OK? You stay still.”

He slowly withdraws his cock from my throat, saliva and pre-cum spilling over my bottom lip. Rylan swipes a finger over a droplet. “Oops, baby, you don’t want to waste this,” he teases as I lick away the liquid, “although I do like seeing you literally drooling for my dick. You need it bad, don’t you, baby?”

I nod again, feeling desperate, and opening my mouth, showing him how good I am, how useful.

He chuckles and happily slides his cock into my mouth again. “Good, Nigh, swallow it down. I want your throat so full of cock that your voice goes hoarse. That way every time you say a word I will picture you just like this.” He fucks my mouth a little faster, before pulling out suddenly and slapping my cheek with his cock. “That’s enough, slut, I don’t want to come just yet and your pretty little face is making me want to do just that. Would you like that? My cum coating your face so all you could do was taste it, smell it, feel it?”

My own cock throbs and aches with want and I wonder if it’s possible to get off from words alone.

“Well?” he prods, and I realize he wants an answer.

I don’t think I know one until I realize I’ve already opened my mouth and the words are spilling out. “I want anything you want to give me.”

“God, you’re perfect,” Rylan breathes and then swats me unexpectedly on the back of the head. “Living room. Crawl. Now.”

It’s weird, because even though I have a roommate and Rylan lives alone, we almost never spend time here. The old carpet is rough under my hands and knees and Rylan slaps my ass—hard—as I scuttle awkwardly forward.

“Good,” he says, when I reach the open space between the couch and television. He grabs me none-too-gently by the hair and pulls me onto my knees, yanking my head back. He shoves two salty fingers in my mouth, then four. It’s a brutal assault and my lips spread uncomfortably over his skin. His fingertips jab at my soft palate. “You were good, baby, but you can still be better for me, can’t you? I don’t wanna have to go gentle on you. I wanna fuck your mouth whenever I want, however I want and as hard as I want. That understood?” he tells me, his voice calm and his fingers reckless.

I try to nod with a mouthful of knuckles. I feel useless and stupid and I want to do better. I suck hard at his fingers—frantic to show him how good I can be. It’s pathetic and absurd and addictive and it fires arousal through me. I reach desperately for my neglected and fraught erection.

Rylan snaps his hand out of my mouth and smacks my arm away. He uses his vicious hold on my hair to jerk me forward. I collapse onto my hands and knees. He kicks my thighs apart, exposing me, and dips two saliva-wet fingers into my anus, thrusting them back and forth idly for a minute.

“Don’t move,” he orders, withdrawing his hand and giving my ass cheek another couple of solid, opened-handed blows. I hear him leave and shuffle around for something in his room. I can’t see anything with my head pressed against the rough carpet and my ass squirms pathetically, seeking out something that isn’t there.

Rylan returns, and with him comes a saccharine mandarin-orange smell. For a moment I can’t identify it, but when I feel his decisively lubed fingers spread my ass and enter me, I remember.

“You’re fucking kidding me, Ry,” I manage to get out, the smell dragging me out of oblivion.

“Shut up,” he laughs, working a couple of fingers into my asshole. “You never come over, so this is the only stuff I’ve got here.” It’s cheap, scented/flavoured lube that I bought by accident when we were first starting out. It wasn’t as though I’d thought it would be a particularly good idea. It was more that I was so embarrassed to be in a sex store, and so terrified that they would ask to see my ID, which stated very obviously that I was sixteen, that I had grabbed the first lube I’d found, turned bright red, paid, and ran. We’d only used it once or twice, before Rylan subtly replaced it with something that didn’t smell like sugary chemicals.

“Are you sure it isn’t expired or something?” I ask, finding myself not all that deterred and greedily pushing back into him.

“Not until next month, I checked,” he replies. “Now shut up, would you?”

I happily oblige, revelling in the feel of his fingers as they crook and tease inside me. He slides his knuckles up the muscles to either side of my spine and then digs his fingers into the top of my shoulders, disallowing me from moving forward and away—as if I would want to.

He adds another finger and I feel the delicious burn as I widen to accommodate him.

“Good,” he murmurs appreciatively, and his thumb rubs my neck where it holds me in place. He seeks out my prostate and runs his fingertips over it. I buck needfully as pleasure zings through me. God, I want him.

“Oh, you want to be fucked, Nigh Uncanny?” he enquires, mock surprise colouring his voice.

I whine petulantly in response and shimmy my ass against his knuckles, trying to get them impossibly deeper.

“Tell you what,” Rylan continues, sliding his hand up over my neck and onto the back of my head. He applies pressure. “You put your face down and your ass up like a little bitch in heat, and I’ll see what we can do for you.”

I obey almost mindlessly, pressing my face to the scratchy carpet and shoving my hips up further. I brace myself, pressing my palms into the ground beside my shoulders. I feel his warm cockhead slide along my ass crack, pausing over my hole, and then sliding lower. I bite back another protesting murmur. His cock slides back up, and just as I think he’s going to enter, he pulls back.

“You know what?” he contemplates, his tone smooth and cruel. “I think if you want my cock so bad, you should help me out, open yourself up.”

For a second I don’t comprehend his meaning; and then I do, and my hands fly backwards, scrabbling for purchase and spreading my ass cheeks wide, as if I would do anything to get him to fuck me. My skin burns in shame at how quickly I respond to his request and he runs a solitary finger around the inner, corrugated edge of my anus. I feel it twitch wantonly at him and that only makes me blush hotter and my dick harder.

“Here?” he teases.

“Uh huh,” I murmur.

“Speak up, Niles. I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He smacks my ass. “I said louder.” The words are taut and certain.

“Please,” I answer, my voice shaky but loud. “Please fuck me, please fuck my ass. Please, Ry. I want it. I want it so fucking badly, please just—”

Anything else I have to say is cut off as his cock enters me with one ruthless thrust. I grunt in response. The momentum causes my face to skid forward along the carpet. My hands fly off my ass as I struggle to maintain my position. Rylan grabs at me, his fingertips biting into my lower ribs as he wrenches me back towards him, seating his cock even deeper within me.

“This what you wanted, baby?” he demands, accentuating his meaning with driving thrusts. I emit a little groan and he answers back with a satisfied, guttural noise of his own, sketching his nails over my ribs and under me, where they painfully bite at the skin on my thighs.

His movements lessen in depth but not in intensity as he violently slams into me. I brace myself staunchly and twist so that my forehead is now pressed against the floor as if in prayer. I keen into the carpet, my jaw opening to allow animalistic sounds to escape. I’m so turned on that my breath comes out in short, hollow pants between sobs. I inventory the multiple pain points in my body: dull, positional pain in my wrists; a throbbing ache in my knees from where they jam against the hostile carpet-covered cement; sharp, stinging pain in my thighs; and the terse stretch of my asshole as Rylan fucks into me. He bites my shoulder and I add that sudden stab to my list.

Even in the moment I can’t quite comprehend why this so, so does it for me. Rylan is still ignoring my dick, and he pounds into me so quickly that I can barely concentrate on the flashes of pleasure that mix in along with agonizing discomfort. But it does do it for me. Knowing the rug below me is old and filthy; that I spread myself for him; that I sucked and slobbered for this: that I am getting what I both deserve and begged for—

Rylan changes the angle of his thrusts suddenly, and it jolts me. He grabs a fistful of my hair, rubbing my face into the carpet like a naughty dog. If I were to twist and look back, I could catch sight of my straining, leaking cock.

“Touch it,” Rylan orders, and, even though I barely have the strength to support us both on one arm, I scramble to encircle my cock with my hand, stroking it furiously. “And while you come, you’ll thank me,” Rylan instructs. “Just because you’re orgasming doesn’t mean you can forget your manners.”

I don’t know if it’s my grip or his condescending, shaming tone but almost instantly I’m coming, spattering jism all over the spiteful carpet and my own chest. “Thank you,” I’m panting. “Thank you for fucking me.” I want to sink to the floor with relief but Rylan isn’t done. He wraps one arm roughly around my waist and fucks me hard and fast until he’s unloading into me. I can feel him, hot and wet inside of my squandered body.

His arm remains clamped around me for probably a full minute, maybe longer, before he slowly pulls out and away. I allow myself to tip sideways and off of my tortured knees. I can feel his cum seeping out of my abused asshole and I don’t care. Rylan comes to rest nearby; he drops his head onto my thigh.

“You should probably buy me some kneepads if you’re in the mood to do that ever again,” I say, finally. “Also I officially hate this carpet.”

“Oh, you loved every filthy second of it,” Rylan quips.

I sigh. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Shower?” he suggests.

“Please.”

He drags me upwards by the forearms and pulls me along by the hand, the nasty orange smell trailing after our sweaty bodies.

“So, Captain,” Rylan is saying after we’ve finally dragged ourselves away from the shower, and tidied up the carpet. “As nice as that was, I do actually want to know what’s up.”

He pushes me gently onto the couch and straddles my lap, hands linked casually behind my neck.

“I don’t know,” I offer, quasi-hopefully.

He raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Just something Shona said,” I acknowledge, uncomfortably.

He cocks his head to one side, intimating for me to continue.

“Do you…” I don’t quite know how to phrase what I’m asking. I don’t even know if I know what I want to ask. “Do you think this is normal?”

“Do I think what is normal?”

“Us?” I practically swallow the word but he still seems to hear me.

“Niles.” He sounds amused. “Darling. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What?!” I blush and dip my head, trying to escape his knowing eye contact.

“Of course this isn’t normal!” He laughs, and crooks a knuckle under my chin. “First off, we’re both dudes. So we’re basically saying, ‘Fuck heteronormativity.’ Which is kind of status quo. So by that alone we’re—quote-unquote—abnormal. On top of that, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got just a titch of a sub-Dom thing going on…and while that’s not all that wild and unheard of, so far as kinks go, it’s probably not what people would classify as vanilla. So, no, babe, I’d say we’re decisively not normal.”

“Stupid question, hey?” I allow a smile.

He kisses me. “A bit, but I won’t tell anyone.” He studies my face, “Nigh? Just because we’re not…normal doesn’t mean what we have isn’t…good…you know? I mean…you like it, right?”

I nod, easily, because it’s the truth.

“And I like it,” Rylan continues, “and you, like, trust that I would never ever do anything where I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing?”

I start to speak. It would be so easy just to agree, to sink back into the safety of him, but I know I can’t.

“I—I wish I did. I want to.”

Worry clouds his face. “What do you mean?”

I swallow, hard. “The choking thing,” I reply.

He rubs his thumb over my cheek. “I was counting the whole time in my head. If you hadn’t come by the time I got to one hundred and twenty, I would’ve stopped.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You weren’t supposed to know that,” he answers, smiling. “You were just supposed to get off.”

“And I did,” I assure him hurriedly. “It’s just that, Ry, you were wasted. Or maybe not wasted. but definitely drunk. and I just…I just think it was kind of shitty of you to spring that on me when I didn’t know where you were at, like, drunk-wise.”

Rylan looks like he’s going to argue—his eyebrows furrow and he rolls off of me and crosses his arms over his body. I know he feels rejected and I did that and I can’t stand it.

“I’m sorry,” I say, suddenly. “I shouldn’t’ve brought it up. It’s old news and—”

Rylan turns back towards me, and covers my mouth with a couple of fingers. “Stop, Niles, are you fucking kidding me?” There’s no malice in his words, only wonder. “I do something that literally makes you afraid of me and you’re
apologizing
? Jesus, baby. I’m the one who is sorry. You’re right. Of course you’re right. I didn’t think of it like that because I felt so good, so in control and I saw how it was affecting you—or at least I thought I did.”