It’s so visceral and raw that I know it’s really happening, but I still can’t quite believe it. I’ve wanted him for months, practically since the first day he walked through my door, and now, here I am with his cock down my throat. It feels too good to be true.
“Fuck, Elliot, I’m gonna cum,” he groans, and I can fucking feel it.
I can feel the tension, I can feel the stiffening in his body as the climax starts to overtake him, and I taste the hot, salty spurts of his cum jetting across my tongue. Eagerly, I swallow every last drop and lick him clean, before he yanks me up to him for another kiss.
He reaches down and grabs my dick through my pants, and even that hesitant touch makes my erection throb. He unfastens the button, then tugs down the zipper. He pulls my cock out through the fly of my boxers and gives it a few awkward strokes.
Up until this moment, I’d been positive he was straight, and the way he touches me makes me strongly suspect that he’s never handled a dick other than his own. It comes through in the hesitance of his hands, but even so, it feels amazing.
When his lips move down my neck, it takes me a second to collect myself enough to speak. But even then, all I can manage is a half-breathless: “You don’t have to.”
I don’t want him feeling obligated to reciprocate, but he shakes his head as he moves down my chest and pauses to flick his tongue over my nipple. “I know I don’t. Just…be patient with me, this is new.”
“Take all the time you need,” I tell him, more than happy to bask in the sensations crashing over me.
The longer I can make this last, the better.
It’s not long before he’s made his way down to my navel and I feel him hesitate, his hand stilling on my shaft. I’m about to tell him he can stop if he wants when suddenly, his mouth is around the head of my cock.
A sharp gasp escapes me, and my eyes roll back in my fucking head. I can’t believe this is seriously happening, but it feels amazing. He seems to get a little braver and swirls his tongue around the tip before venturing lower.
“Fuck, Shaun,” I groan, and I reach down to cup the back of his head.
My hips twitch and I have to fight not to buck into his mouth, not wanting to give him more than he’s ready for, but it’s not long before he’s got me down balls-deep, taking me deeper than I expected he’d be able to.
“Oh, fuck, Shaun, that feels incredible, just like that,” I groan.
Maybe it’s the liquor, maybe it’s just because it’s him, but I swear, it’s better than any head I've ever had before. And before long, I can feel the tension rising, pressure building against the floodgates until I know I can’t hold out anymore.
“Shaun, I’m gonna cum,” I warn, releasing his head in case he’s not ready for a mouthful, but he shows no sign of stopping.
And when the dam bursts and I pour my load into his mouth, he swallows it down gamely, coughing a little, but taking it all in. He lifts his head and glances up at me, and meeting his eyes overwhelms me with a feeling I can’t explain, all I know is I have to kiss him right this fucking second.
I pull him up to me and press my mouth to his, tasting myself on his lips, and as my heart slows down and my breathing returns to normal, I think that honestly, the liquor’s worn off, and now I’m just drunk on him.
“Elliot?”
Shaun’s voice is like a bucket of cold water over my head, snapping me out of the memory. “Sorry, what?”
“I was asking if you were going someplace tonight,” he says, “You look like you’re heading out.”
I nod. “Um, yeah,” I reply, “I’ve got a date.”
The words feel strange, especially given where my mind had just been, but it’s all too easy to remember what had happened the morning after. I’d woken up alone in Shaun’s bed, and when I went out and found him in the kitchen, he’d apologized, said he’d been drunk, and it had been a mistake.
And while it had hurt like hell, I’d tried to take it in stride and go back to shoving my feelings for him deep, deep down. Which meant that when a beautiful, amazing young woman crossed my path, I took my shot and now I was trying to really move on.
But that didn’t mean I’d forgotten, and neither had he. Things have been tense between us ever since, though we’ve tried to pretend everything is normal.
I can’t quite read the expression on his face, but I can tell that the smile on his face is forced. “Cool.”
I sense that he wants to say more, but for a moment, he’s silent, seeming to be at war with himself before finally saying: “Have fun.”
“Thanks. You doing anything tonight?”
He shakes his head. “Just hanging out here.”
It’s one of the longest conversations we’ve had in weeks, and there’s an ache in my chest. While yeah, I’m disappointed that our night together was just the one night, I’m more upset over the fact that it seems to have wrecked our friendship.