knew it was lame, but I didn’t want to have to travel on the same train as him. I didn’t want to have to fend off the sympathy in his eyes, or explain exactly why my dad was a heartless bastard who didn’t deserve a deathbed visit.
I had the PlayStation on when Steve let himself in, and was shooting the crap out of some zombies in Resident Evil 5 . Steve slumped on the sofa beside me and plonked two bottles of beer on the table next to my feet. I didn’t look up, but I had a good excuse, what with being in mortal peril.
“Watch out for the one behind the door,” Steve warned, just as I fell victim to a brain munching monster. He chuckled at my dire score and I felt his hand in my dreads, massaging my scalp. “You want to talk about anything?”
“No point.”
Steve sighed as I downed my beer. “Well, what do you want to do then?”
I looked him over, sitting there with one brightly stockinged foot up on his knee, his shirt crumpled after a day at work, his tie hanging loose around his neck. His dark curls were starting to escape the Brylcreem and his jaw bore the shadow of the scratchy hair I knew would burn my skin deliciously. He looked one hundred percent debauched and thoroughly fuckable.
Yeah, I could cope with that kind of distraction, but for once I didn’t want Steve calling the shots.
I’m no good at asking for what I want, so I tackled him down until he was lying on the sofa beneath me, using my body weight to pin him down. Steve gave me one of his maddening grins and I did my best to kiss it off him, trying to reduce him to the same wordless state of lust he always managed to transport me to.
“Mmm, someone’s feeling horny. I’ll have to remember that fighting zombies gets you like this.” Steve was still talking, even as I unbuckled his belt and began to work his trousers down his legs. I took a moment to stare at his briefs, trying to remember if I’d seen this particular shiny purple pair before -- I swear, the man has more pairs of underpants than I have items of clothing in my entire wardrobe -- but then decided it didn’t matter as they were coming off straight away. The socks could stay on, though. I’d developed a kink for Steve’s socks.
As I took Steve into my mouth, the word “cocksucker” echoed around inside my head derisively, still as painful as I remembered it, a decade later. Fuck that. I wasn’t about to let ancient memories ruin my fun now. Besides, it wasn’t just fun, was it? It wasn’t me doing this for kicks, to some random stranger. This was Steve and I loved him and I wanted him to feel amazing. As I sucked and worked my tongue, enjoying the tang of pre-come filling my mouth, I thrust a finger into my mouth alongside Steve’s dick. He moaned at that.
“Babe, I hope you’re going to do something interesting with that finger, now you’ve got it all wet.”
I wondered if sticking it inside Steve would stem the flow of words. It never had before, but maybe I just hadn’t been doing it right. This time I went for it, driving in hard and fast as I sucked on the head of his cock. He grunted and his voice sounded thick, but he still wouldn’t shut up.
“Shit! That’s it. Just there. Yeah.” He sighed out the last word, then tensed and grunted again as I shoved a second dry finger alongside the first. “Christ, Jez! You want to top or something? You only have to ask. You only have to...” His words morphed into moans as I massaged that tight bundle of nerves inside him, all the while tonguing at his slit and lapping up the flow of pre-come.
Eventually Steve tugged my dreads so hard I had to stop.
“Enough! If you want to fuck me, you’d better get some lube quick. Don’t think I can hold on if you keep going like that.”
I raced back from the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way, to find Steve sprawled in the same position as when I left him. He looked exhausted and I wondered if I was being selfish, forcing sex on him when he was
I had the PlayStation on when Steve let himself in, and was shooting the crap out of some zombies in Resident Evil 5 . Steve slumped on the sofa beside me and plonked two bottles of beer on the table next to my feet. I didn’t look up, but I had a good excuse, what with being in mortal peril.
“Watch out for the one behind the door,” Steve warned, just as I fell victim to a brain munching monster. He chuckled at my dire score and I felt his hand in my dreads, massaging my scalp. “You want to talk about anything?”
“No point.”
Steve sighed as I downed my beer. “Well, what do you want to do then?”
I looked him over, sitting there with one brightly stockinged foot up on his knee, his shirt crumpled after a day at work, his tie hanging loose around his neck. His dark curls were starting to escape the Brylcreem and his jaw bore the shadow of the scratchy hair I knew would burn my skin deliciously. He looked one hundred percent debauched and thoroughly fuckable.
Yeah, I could cope with that kind of distraction, but for once I didn’t want Steve calling the shots.
I’m no good at asking for what I want, so I tackled him down until he was lying on the sofa beneath me, using my body weight to pin him down. Steve gave me one of his maddening grins and I did my best to kiss it off him, trying to reduce him to the same wordless state of lust he always managed to transport me to.
“Mmm, someone’s feeling horny. I’ll have to remember that fighting zombies gets you like this.” Steve was still talking, even as I unbuckled his belt and began to work his trousers down his legs. I took a moment to stare at his briefs, trying to remember if I’d seen this particular shiny purple pair before -- I swear, the man has more pairs of underpants than I have items of clothing in my entire wardrobe -- but then decided it didn’t matter as they were coming off straight away. The socks could stay on, though. I’d developed a kink for Steve’s socks.
As I took Steve into my mouth, the word “cocksucker” echoed around inside my head derisively, still as painful as I remembered it, a decade later. Fuck that. I wasn’t about to let ancient memories ruin my fun now. Besides, it wasn’t just fun, was it? It wasn’t me doing this for kicks, to some random stranger. This was Steve and I loved him and I wanted him to feel amazing. As I sucked and worked my tongue, enjoying the tang of pre-come filling my mouth, I thrust a finger into my mouth alongside Steve’s dick. He moaned at that.
“Babe, I hope you’re going to do something interesting with that finger, now you’ve got it all wet.”
I wondered if sticking it inside Steve would stem the flow of words. It never had before, but maybe I just hadn’t been doing it right. This time I went for it, driving in hard and fast as I sucked on the head of his cock. He grunted and his voice sounded thick, but he still wouldn’t shut up.
“Shit! That’s it. Just there. Yeah.” He sighed out the last word, then tensed and grunted again as I shoved a second dry finger alongside the first. “Christ, Jez! You want to top or something? You only have to ask. You only have to...” His words morphed into moans as I massaged that tight bundle of nerves inside him, all the while tonguing at his slit and lapping up the flow of pre-come.
Eventually Steve tugged my dreads so hard I had to stop.
“Enough! If you want to fuck me, you’d better get some lube quick. Don’t think I can hold on if you keep going like that.”
I raced back from the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way, to find Steve sprawled in the same position as when I left him. He looked exhausted and I wondered if I was being selfish, forcing sex on him when he was
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