Part 4, whoever would've thought we'd get this far. I've had some really nice messages, and it's no exaggeration to say that they do make writing and sharing these stories worthwhile. Take a moment to email a writer - even if it's not me - to tell them if you enjoyed their work.
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-Alex P (alexp336)
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EIGHTEEN by Alex Pendragon - Part 4
I wish I could say that I took the moral high road. Laughed at their teasing, maybe made a playful comment of my own. We could've turned it into one big joke, a theme that ran through the evening and, in the process, removed any of the sexual awkwardness that seemed otherwise inevitable between Jacob's teenage friends and I.
Of course, I didn't.
I also wish I could say that my actual response wasn't thought through. That I opened my mouth and something - anything - spilled out, with no consideration of the implications. That my sin was naivety, not plain old lust.
It was lust, of course.
"Don't you want to see Ash in his underwear?" Jacob had asked, his expression all but daring me to decline. I knew I should've said something to diffuse the sudden tension. Instead, I only cranked it up higher.
"Sure," I told them.
Jacob's face broke out in a wide, knowing grin. Eyes flaring, delightedly. Ash, meanwhile, drained his glass and, with what seemed like an unconscious motion, pushed one strand of hair behind his ear. Only to have it fall forward again as he fixed me with a direct stare.
"You could've just asked," he pointed out, simply, as if that was something anybody could simply say to some hot teenager they came across. I shrugged, not trusting my voice - too late, of course, far too late for that - and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Come on, then."
He reached out a slim hand and I automatically took it, my body working on a dazed sort of cruise control. That slight twist at the edge of his lips tilting into the beginnings of a smile in response. And then he turned, and started to lead me through the crowd; when I looked back at Jacob, he raised his beer to me in a teasing toast, sporting a look I could only describe as self-satisfied.
Then the crowd closed behind us, and I only had Ash's cool fingers to focus on.
Clearly this wasn't his first time in the club, because he guided us straight across the patchily lit space to a black-painted door I doubt I'd ever have noticed otherwise. There was a couple busily kissing, leaning up against the dented chipboard; they moved without breaking apart when Ash pulled the door open behind them.
A corridor, and the dim fizz and hum of cheap fluorescent lights. The door swung shut behind me, making the muffled wails of whatever band was currently performing even more unintelligible. Still lightly gripping my fingers, Ash drew me between stacks of beer crates and precariously balanced mops and buckets. When he glanced back, his skin looked even paler in the cool lighting. Bright green eyes punched through paper-white pallor.
Abruptly he turned, leading me into a small space that seemed as much a storeroom as it was a cramped office. Finally released my hand and, leaning back against the edge of the cluttered desk, conspicuously looked me over again.
I resisted the urge to look away, or down at my feet. Realized I was still holding the beer bottle, and tried to set it onto one of the nearby shelves in as casual a way as possible. When I looked back, Ash wore that same faint smile again.
When he realized I wasn't going to move of my own accord, he stood up again and closed the distance between us. His chest just inches from my own. Even in the unflattering lighting, his face had a delicate, sculpted elegance. Cheekbones sharp behind the soft tangles of his hair.
Carefully, as though afraid I might spook and flee, he lifted himself on his toes and pressed his lips against mine. Chastely, somehow; a touch so light I could almost question whether it had even happened at all. When he pulled back, his expression was questioning.
"I thought you liked me" he asked, tone leaving it somewhere between a question and a statement. I bit my lip.
"I do. I mean, I think you're very attractive."
He nodded, seriously. "I think you are too. So why aren't you doing anything?"
I started to shrug; stopped myself. Resisted the urge to rub my hand across my face. We were still close enough that I could swear I felt his breath on me.
"I wasn't sure you were being serious," I explained, awkwardly. "I mean, before... when you said..."
Ash gave me the same eye roll I'd begun to associate with Jacob. "Are you always terribly serious?" he asked. I wasn't sure what my answer to that should be. "Were you serious when you picked up Jacob?"
I had to chuckle at that. Ash's eyebrow rose.
"I'm pretty sure Jacob picked me up, not the other way around." He nodded, knowingly. "Anyway," I continued, "I'm not always serious. I just didn't want to misconstrue things. With you, I mean."
"I see," he told me, after a moment's thought. "Well, just to put your thoughtful, serious mind to rest, I'm here because you're cute."
A reply seemed unnecessary, and so I leaned into him instead and returned his kiss from before. A beat, and then Ash was pushing back at me, the clinch of our lips unmistakable now, and almost enough to distract me from the way his arms reached up to encircle my neck. Hot flick of his tongue against mine, as the urge to hold him rose in my chest. His body narrow and lithe when I grabbed him and pulled him to me.
He was a good kisser; an excellent kisser, in fact. The soft brush of his hair as it caught between us a counterpoint to the fierceness of his appetite. Teeth pulling at my lips in those moments when his mouth wasn't mashed against mine. My hands traced the slender curve of his spine, down to the tautness of his ass clad in clinging black denim. Cheeks full and firm in my palms.
"So are you gonna show me?" I asked, teasing, in a moment's respite between his hungry kisses. He giggled; pushed back from me and then giggled again when I groaned as his ass was dragged from my reach. Looking down, I saw his slender fingers tugging at his fly. Heard the soft purr of the zip.
Ash paused, the crisp white of his briefs stark, and I took it as an invitation. Reached out to tug his jeans down his slender thighs, the skinnies getting caught up nonetheless. But it was enough.
Low-cut, stretched across the slim expanse of his hips. The V-shape of his torso funneling smoothly into the elastic waistband with its 2xist logo picked out in silver. My mouth started to water as I looked him over, only half-realizing he had pulled his shirt up, holding it against his chest with one flat palm to give me the uninterrupted view.
"Fuck," I muttered, voice husky with lust.
Ash snorted. "Should I take that as a compliment?"
I flicked my gaze up to make eye-contact with him, but the lure of his bulging crotch was too much, too strong, and it was only a matter of seconds before my eyes returned to it. The urge to reach out and touch him was almost uncontrollable.
"You look incredible," I told him.
"Give me your hand," Ash instructed. Mindlessly, I held out my arm; he took me by the wrist. It was only when my palm brushed against his groin that I really realized what was happening. "Jesus, Shaun, do I have to do everything here?"
I took the chiding to heart, closing my fingers around his hardness and groping at him through the pure white cotton. The fabric a soft, thin sheath around the rigidness that was his erection. My other hand sliding up the contours of his stomach, fingertips nudging under the hem of his raised shirt and roaming to the side until they found the stiff nub of a nipple. Ash gasped when I pinched, hard, his body flinching.
"Bastard," he muttered, but I could hear the arousal in his voice now, just as clear to me as the thick shaft filling out his briefs. Carefully, one hand still cupping the slight curve of his pectoral, I eased the head of his dick up from behind the clinging elastic, trapping it in place against his pelvis.
A hand on the back of my head told me what he wanted, and I wanted it just as badly. Let him pull me in all the same, guiding my mouth to dock with the tender flare of flesh where the tip of his cock joined his prick. The taste flooding my senses, my tongue swarming around what little of him was exposed. Not caring that the overload of sensations to that most sensitive part was leaving him bucking and twisting above me.
"More," he grunted, voice hoarse as I worked on him, and wordlessly I obliged. Tugging further on the scant covering he was left with, until his cock jerked free of its confines and I could vacuum the whole thing into my mouth. My lips pressed tight against the smoothly shorn skin at the root, feeling him pulse in the space between the roof of my mouth and my tongue.
HIs hips were twitching now, small but sharp jerks that moved him a bare half-inch, all he could manage sandwiched between my face and the edge of the desk. My hands on his flanks, I dug my fingers in tight and used my grip on him to amplify the motion. Heard him gasp again.
I knew, though, what I wanted. Had known, deep down, when I'd watched his ass as he led me through the crowds. When I'd felt its firm tightness through his jeans, the way my fingertips could hardly dimple the denseness of his flesh.
Pulling back, I grudgingly released his cock. Ash let out a grunt of displeasure, but I was already turning him, my hands slipping across his body so that my thumbs could part his cheeks. I felt rather than saw him lean forward over the desk, following some unspoken command he'd intuited from the dark depths of my arousal.
More smooth skin graced my gaze. I hesitated for a moment, just long enough to memorize the perfection of the feast in front of me, before pushing my face into him. Mouth, tongue, fingers all busy and eager, prying and pulling at him as his body yielded to an unending chorus of his moans.
His tightness was a challenge, resisting me until I pushed my tongue deeper. The entire groove of his ass a mess of my spit as my jaw worked on him. Reaching around his narrow hip, I felt his cock fill my palm and lazily stroked it, Ash bucking at my ministrations from both his sides.
The chant of obscenities told me it was working, along with the way his hole was fluttering on my tongue. When I eased my forefinger inside him he hissed with pleasure, pushing back against me as I gave in to my urges and kissed, lapped, bit on his cheeks.
"Oh god, so close..." The warning hissed through clenched teeth, just enough time to turn him again, my finger sliding free of him in the process and then, as I jabbed it roughly back into the hotness of his grip, providing that last blitz of sensations that drove the orgasm from him.
Ash's cock erupted, thick splashes of cum lacing my face as I jerked him in my spit-slicked fist. Looked up to see the muscles in his chest clenching; head thrown back and his hands managing a death-grip on the table edge. By the time he'd finished, and I leaned in to rub the last hanging pearl of cream across my swollen lips, he was trying to pull his sensitive flesh away from my unrelenting touch.
"Fuck," he muttered, looking down at me. I guess I looked a sight, though he was more than partly to blame for that. Gingerly he knelt down, bringing us face to face. There was a slash of red across each sharp cheekbone, his skin looking flushed. Pupils vast, the barest orbit of green around them.
When he leaned in I thought he meant to kiss me at first, but his mouth swerved at the final moment. Lips brushing my cheek instead, and with a shudder of surprise I realized he was licking his cum off me. Tongue rasping along my jawline, his mouth occasionally overlapping mine but our kisses always brief and quickly interrupted. Only when, patiently, diligently, he'd finished his clean-up did he return to me, the taste of him sharp as our tongues dueled.
"That was fun," Ash murmured, and I felt the flex of his smile as he nuzzled his face against mine. Standing up, he pulled on his underwear and then his jeans, buttoning them as I stood in turn and watched him straighten his clothes. Suddenly, watching his skin disappear beneath layers of black, I realized how ridiculously, near-painfully hard I was.
Maybe it was another example of his mind-reading, but Ash chose that moment to look up at me, complete with a knowing look. "I'm sorry," he purred, reaching out and gently sliding his hand along the prominent bulge in my jeans. I groaned at the not-quite-sufficient touch. "Jacob told me I wasn't allowed to let you cum."
I gnawed my lip in frustration. "Jacob told you..." My voice petered out as Ash's fingers traced the blunt head of my cock. Even through a layer of denim and my underwear, it felt incredible.
He nodded, an almost apologetic expression somehow sharing room on his face with the wry, teasing look I'd fast become familiar with. "He was very clear, I'm afraid."
Another kiss. I swallowed the urge to whimper, figuring it would not only be embarrassing but, more importantly, ineffective.
"It's a shame, too," Ash told me, voice little more than a throaty whisper. "I bet you'd taste good." I shuddered again.
By the time Ash led me back to the club, my erection had mostly subsided. I'd had to force myself not to watch his ass as I followed him, mind. And, for that matter, not to rub myself through my jeans like some horny kid.
Jacob was talking with a couple of guys when we found him, but I only had eyes for his wry, knowing smirk when he turned to watch Ash and I approach. Leaning in at the last moment, I was surprised when he kissed me.
"You look... sticky," he observed, chuckling. Shot a side-eyed glance at Ash, who grinned toothily. Jacob sniffed, a little too exaggerated to be real. "And is this some new cologne..."
I pulled back, my body acting on autopilot; felt myself blushing. The message was clear: he knew - or could guess - pretty much exactly what Ash and I had been up to. Even with the knowledge of the things Jacob and I had done, it still sent a shiver of self-consciousness through me.
I looked across at the two new guys he'd been talking with. Both a similar age to Jacob; both giving me the sort of skeptical stare that somehow you inevitably come to dread from young people when you reach your thirties. Equal parts blank, as though you've hardly dimpled their youthful reality, and yet somehow still judgmental. It was too much for me to handle at the best of times, never mind with a near-stranger's cum drying on my cheeks.
"Friends of mine," Jacob said, as if that was all I needed to know. One of them nodded a wordless greeting, while the other simply continued to stare at me while swigging deeply from his beer bottle. I forced myself to grimace a response, feigning an assuredness I absolutely did not feel.
Perhaps he took pity on me; maybe he just was bored. Either way, Jacob winked at his friends and, with a quick glance at me, made the announcement that we were leaving. "Time to bounce," he told them, leaning in to Ash to kiss the youth on the lips. Not even a flinch from the wordless duo of newcomers; I guessed they were at least used to seeing it, even if they weren't necessarily into guys themselves.
Ash slipped a hand behind my waist and, taking advantage of my surprise, pulled us chest to chest. "Thank you," he purred, lips near my ear, "for being so nice about my singing."
I swallowed. That forced praise seemed like it had been days ago, not less than an hour.
His goodbye kiss was definitely more intense than Jacob's, too. Hand snaking up to grip the back of my neck as his tongue slipped between my lips. By the time he released me and I stepped back, almost stumbling on my feet, the erection I'd worked so hard to shed was showing definite signs of a return. I half-waved, awkwardly, at the group.
"Um... 'bye, then."
And was promptly guided out by Jacob.
--
Stood outside, waiting for another Lyft, I found myself making nervous little half-glances over to Jacob next to me.
"Spit it out, then," he said, eventually. I guess I'd been less surreptitious than I'd thought.
"Well..." I started, then paused to think about what, exactly, it was that I was trying to say. "I just... what Ash and I did... I mean..."
Not exactly my most eloquent commentary, but enough to raise a chuckle from Jacob.
"Are you feeling embarrassed about blowing him?" I winced at his bluntness; just about stopped myself from glancing around us to see who might have overheard. "Because you shouldn't be."
Somehow his reassurance wasn't entirely, well, reassuring.
"I guess I just thought... you and I. Y'know..."
He turned to stare at me. "Shaun, you do remember that I basically sent you guys off together, right?"
I blinked. Nodded.
"Okay, so I really don't think you need to explain yourself to me. Unless you didn't enjoy yourself?"
Another blink. A head-shake, this time.
Jacob smirked. "Well there, then. And with regards to "you and I," I don't think either of us are looking for something mutually exclusive right now, are we."
It wasn't necessarily meant as a question, but I couldn't help think of it as one. My dating history was effectively a wash of mediocre choices and awkward dates; most relationships I'd been in were best left forgotten, and had ended with the faintest of whimpers. In short, it was entirely fair to say that I was not especially designed for being half of a couple.
So why did I feel bad, as though I'd just cheated on Jacob with Ash?
When I looked up, I realized he was still staring at me. "Spit it out, then," he repeated. I smiled, sheepishly, at the shared recognition of how foolish I was being.
"It isn't normally something I do, being with one guy and then someone completely different a few hours later, that's all," I tried to explain. "So I just felt a little... unnerved, maybe. And I wondered how you were feeling about it."
Jacob stared at me a half-minute longer, then leaned back against the wall again.
"Is this really about me, or is this just more of you telling yourself you can't do something because it's "not what Shaun would do" again?"
I opened my mouth, perhaps to protest, then shut it again.
"Look, maybe things are different for you. I don't claim to know you; really, we're still pretty much strangers, aren't we. We had dinner, and we fucked a few times, and I like you but I'd never suggest I know you. So maybe I'm missing some key part of what's going on, but as far as I can tell we've been having fun, and tonight you had fun with another guy who happens to be a friend of mine. And now, well, now I think you're overthinking it."
"Are you and Ash..." I started, but Jacob's chuckle stopped me.
"Ash and I are friends. He's cute, and we've messed around before, but it's nothing more than that. And I didn't bring you here with the secret intention to set you up with another guy: I just saw you were interested in him, and I know what type of person he goes for. Happy, sticky coincidence, right?"
Suddenly I felt very self-conscious about what might or might not be still visible on my face. Hopefully Ash had been diligent in his clean-up.
Distracted, then, by the feel of Jacob slipping his hand into mine, and squeezing.
"So I think this is probably just another of your over-thinking moments, which is fine. But I do wonder whether, if you spent half that time on more enjoyable things, you'd not have a lot less to worry about overall."
I had to laugh at that one. It certainly wasn't like I could argue with him.
"Oh!" he said, suddenly, as if something had just dawned on him. "Did you like Ash's underwear in the end?"
I think I probably blushed.
"Very nice," I replied, managing to just about avoid the catch in my throat. "Definitely worth the trip."
"Yeah, Ash said it looked like you enjoyed the view," Jacob told me, winking slyly. "Maybe if you play your cards right I'll actually let you cum."
I smirked at him. "Your place or mine, then?"
Surprisingly, the answer had turned out to be his place. Or, more accurately, his family's place. Something which sent a jerk of horror through me when he mentioned it.
"Don't panic. They're all away."
It wasn't, I told myself, so much that I was panicking at having company, per-se. Just that it was a rather obvious reminder - as if I needed it - of the age difference again.
"Wouldn't you, y'know, rather stay over at mine?" I'd suggested, hoping he'd recognize the potential weirdness of the situation and tell the Lyft driver to head in the opposite direction.
"I can't do that without a change of clothes," he pointed out, not unreasonably. I swallowed the urge to make a desperate offer to buy him a whole new outfit, if only we could just sleep in my bed tonight instead.
Stood in a hallway lined with photos of a beaming family, Jacob spanning various ages, I felt my palms beginning to itch. The house was quiet, but what should've felt reassuring - the silence suggesting we were, indeed, alone, and I wasn't going to have to explain my presence to a skeptical (at best) parent - felt oppressive instead. The weight of his history, all eighteen years of it, suddenly heavy around me, like a dense and unexpected snowfall.
"Come upstairs," he told me, looking down at where I was frozen among the coats and the discarded shoes and stacks of unopened junk mail. Swallowing, I followed him up.
I'd feared his room would be a museum, the detritus of childhood clinging on in the corners by the simple fact that we overlook what's most familiar to us. School spelling awards and once-cherished soft toys; the dangle of participation trophies and boy scout badges from the shelves. Instead, it was a cool, sparse space: unexpectedly tidy for what I remembered of my own room at eighteen.
Twin bed, a desk with a closed laptop, a mirror-fronted wardrobe, and a dark window half-shaded with slatted metal blinds. If anything, it reminded me of a college dorm room - just teetering on the edge of blandly formal. I leaned against the desk and watched as Jacob dug through the clothes rails.
"You look terrified," he observed, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. I could see his expression in the reflection of the mirror, in-between the shuffling of clothes. Shrugged, then realized he might not be watching me as attentively as I was watching him.
"I feel a little bit like a child-snatcher," I admitted. Jacob giggled, then turned to me. His hands full of hangers.
"It must be exhausting in that brain of yours."
I nodded, conceding the point. "It's why I'm always tired," I deadpanned.
Jacob's turn to nod. "Then maybe you should lie down."
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop myself from matching his grin. "Is that really the best line you had?"
He shrugged, turning back to the wardrobe but eyeing my reflection. "If it works it's good enough, I guess."
Gingerly, I sat on the edge of his comforter. Toed off my shoes, then turned, pulling my legs up so that I could circle them loosely with my folded arms.
"See," he pointed out, "turns out it was enough."
I scowled, but he'd already looked away, hanging a button-down shirt and a pair of jeans on the edge of the wardrobe door. Began, then, to peel off his shirt.
"Are you getting changed already?" I asked him. He shook his head.
"No, I'm getting undressed."
My mouth opened, as if a reply might be forthcoming, but the words caught in my throat as he pushed down his jeans. The sight of him in nothing but scant underwear, taut fabric pulled across his slender hips, was still mesmeric to me. More than enough, certainly, to prompt a swelling in my jeans that forced me to reach down and rearrange myself.
"Take them off," Jacob instructed, catching my movement. I bit down what protest I might have made, instead lifted my hips on the bed and began to strip. The process completed under his attentive gaze.
"Better," he said, when I was down to my boxer-briefs.
Slowly, carefully, he joined me on the bed. Closing the gap between us on his knees, his arms hanging loosely by his sides as I looked up at the smooth expanse of his torso. The dim light behind made him a halo.
"Tell me what you did with Ash," he murmured, reaching out a hand to brush his thumb across my cheekbone.
"You know what we did," I pointed out.
"Maybe," he said, a smile creasing the corner of his lips, "but I want to hear you tell me anyway."
My throat felt thick, my memory torn between the pale, waif-like youth I'd been with earlier, and the more muscled, toned teen just an arm's reach away from me now. "Why do you want to hear it?"
Jacob pawed, casually but pointedly, at the bulge in his briefs. "Because it's hot, Shaun."
I swallowed again. "I helped him get undressed. I mean, he started. But then I helped. And he looked amazing, like you said he would."
Jacob's hand was still squeezing gently at his crotch. "Describe him."
"Sort of..." I thought for a moment, "fragile, maybe. He's super-pale. But not, y'know, bony fragile. Just slim."
"Did you touch him then?"
I replayed the details in my head as I tried to put them into words. "I pulled the head of his cock out of his briefs so I could suck him, and I played with his chest while I was doing it. He was leaning against the edge of a table." Maybe it was a subconscious reaction to what I was describing, but I saw Jacob's hand drift up his stomach until his fingers reached his nipple. "Eventually I couldn't hold off any longer, and I pulled his briefs down so I could blow him properly."
"How did he taste?" Jacob's voice was thick. Carefully, as though afraid of startling him, I reached out and traced my fingertips up his thigh. Soft skin and firm muscles.
"Sweet. A little musky. But I could feel his ass, it was so firm I had to see it. So I turned him round."
My fingers had reached the join between his legs now, the skin just brushing the swell of his balls. Jacob was openly kneading his bulge now, the thick length of his shaft pushing eagerly against the fabric.
"I used my thumbs to pull him open, so I could eat his ass," I told him, the words sounding like they were coming from somewhere else in the room, from someone else. "And I reached around and jerked him off while I did it. He kept making this little grunting, gasping noises when I jabbed my tongue into his hole."
Now my hand was on his swollen cock too, rubbing it through the stretched material of his underwear. Our fingers bumping together as we each stoked him.
"I knew he was going to cum soon, I could feel it," I explained. "So I started fingering him, and when I turned him around he just went over the edge." I was pulling now, tugging at the front of Jacob's briefs where they were caught on his trapped erection.
"Where did he cum?"
I licked my lips, subconsciously. Remembered the hot, heavy splatter as Ash had showered my face. "All over me. I was covered in it. And then he knelt down and started licking it off me."
"Fuck," Jacob groaned, the word petering out into a gasp as I finally pulled him free and wrapped my fist around his hardness. "Did you kiss him?"
Nodding, I used my grip on his junk to pull him in closer to me, a couple of shuffling half-steps until he was knelt astride my thighs. "When I came back out and saw you, I probably still had Ash's cum on my face."
"That's hot," he whispered, eyes half-slitted as I plied his length. "And that feels hot, too." Reaching down, beneath his body, he tugged my boxer-briefs down; I kicked them off the rest of the way. When Jacob sat in my lap, only the thin cotton of his briefs was between my aching prick and his ass.
"I thought I was going to fuck you," he grunted, his hips automatically settling into a gently bucking rhythm atop me.
I shrugged. "You can," I pointed out. Rasped the ball of my thumb across the precum-slick tip of his cock, and felt him jerk and twitch at the overload of sensations.
"Don't," he warned, but made no move to escape my grip, and the friction of his rocking only increased. "I want to, fuck you I mean, but... this feels so good."
He hissed when I reached behind him and tugged his briefs down, when the heat of my erection slipped between the firm muscle of his cheeks. Naked flesh against naked flesh.
"Oh fuck it," he groaned, "I can fuck you next time." I chuckled. "Top drawer," he instructed.
Lube, of course, and probably more, but I was too focused on the task at hand to explore. Dipping my slicked fingers beneath him, I traced the tight grip of his hole. Felt him pulse and throb with need as I did it.
"Come on," Jacob grunted, impatient. "You're killing me here." Holding his dick firmly, momentarily still, I eased a finger into him. His gasp a happy one, heavy with pleasure as I gently worked him.
"More."
Carefully I added a second finger, feeling his body gradually ease around me as Jacob's hips made tiny circling motions atop my hand. When he reached for the lube, drizzling it into his fist and leaning back to capture my cock and run slippery fingers along its length, I had to stop myself from wheezing with the sensations.
"I need it," he told me, body bowstring taut. Slipping my fingers free, I lay perfectly still as he lifted the head of my dick and pressed it against his ass. "Tell me, would you have fucked Ash?"
My surprise at the question almost distracted me from the hot, fierce grip of him as Jacob sunk his body onto my shaft. The blunt tip bruising its way into him and then, as his muscles yielded, the slow descent until his cheeks hit my thighs.
"Would you?" he repeated, through clenched teeth.
It didn't need much thought. "Yes," I told him, "bent over that table if he'd let me."
"Yeah," Jacob panted, thighs tensing as he raised himself again. "His loss, then."
I laughed, unexpectedly, and his eyes flew open. Expression dreamy; his cheeks flushed. When I looked down, I could see my erection where it bridged our bodies. First revealed, then disappearing as Jacob ground his hips down onto me again, and then revealed once more. All to a slow, teasing rhythm that seemed both far too languid and yet dangerously relentless at the same time.
Jacob's hands came down flat on my chest as he levered his body against me, our faces scant inches apart. I let the cheeks of his ass fill my hands, content to allow him to set the pace. My fingertips snaking to where I filled him, tracing around the slick, stretched muscle there. Gently, teasingly pulling at him, and watching as Jacob's eyes rolled back at the rush of sensations.
It was like I'd thrown some switch in him, goaded him from the cautious, measured strokes to a more eager, almost frantic cadence atop me. The soft smack of his buttocks against my thighs as he slammed himself into my lap. I'd wanted to last, to hold out as long as I possibly could, but Jacob's animal eagerness was pushing buttons in me I couldn't resist.
"You need to slow down or I'll..." I started, then groaned as his fingers dug grooves in my chest and he fucked himself on me with an urgency that was almost painful. "Oh fuck, Jacob, I'm..."
"Do it," he hissed. Hidden muscles clamping down, squeezing me from root to tip, but it was as much the knowledge that he wanted it, wanted me, wanted my cock to flood him that drove me past the point of no return. An orgasm that had me seeing sparks as my body heaved beneath him.
"Shit, fuck," Jacob cursed, and then his fist was a blur, desperately jerking until - with what seemed like every muscle in his body outlined - his cum splashed down on me. Long, thick ribbons that caught me across the face and then, as his climax slowly subsided, left wet stripes down my chest and stomach.
And then, the breaths rasping in his chest as though he'd just run a marathon, Jacob collapsed forward onto me.
We lay like that for a minute or so. Maybe two. The warmth of Jacob's chest sandwiched against mine, his thighs still straddling my hips. The heat from his cheek radiating, a tangible force upon me. Only the gradually dripping evidence of his climax a reminder of the time that passed. When he spoke, eventually, his voice was a deep reverberation through my collarbone.
"That was..." He paused.
"Messy?" I suggested. A chuckle from him.
"Not the word I was thinking of," he conceded, "but accurate."
"That's twice in one day for me," I pointed out. The slow trickle down my cheeks was starting to tickle.
Jacob shifted slightly atop me. "And from two different guys. You slut."
"It's not easy to have the moral high-ground when you're glued to a guy's chest with your own cum," I needled back.
He made a tentative effort to push up, and off me. Messy had been the right adjective.
"You weren't complaining with Ash."
I ran an exploratory hand across my face; it came away... wet.
"Who says I'm complaining now?"
Reaching over, Jacob pulled a towel from the nightstand. "Don't say I never give you anything," he commented, tossing it onto my face. It wasn't quite a shower, but it was enough to at least stop me from dripping onto the pillow.
Spooning into my side, Jacob's fingers traced idle circles across my chest. "Can we play more later?" he asked, yawning. I dumped the towel off the side of the bed; gently stroked up his arm until I could lace his fingers in mine.
"Whatever you like." His sleepiness was contagious. I didn't complain when he reached over and clicked off the light.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep when the pressure in my bladder woke me. My phone was still in the pocket of my jeans, wherever those were on the floor; in the dark, in an unfamiliar room, I wasn't especially confident of finding my way to them again. Even in a best case scenario it seemed like a recipe for stubbed toes.
Whatever the time was, my need to use the bathroom transcended such minor details. Gingerly I extricated myself from under Jacob's still-sleeping body, feeling rather than seeing him settle again after I eased myself free.
Taking great care to pull the bedroom door quietly shut behind me, I padded down the hallway to where I vaguely remembered having seen a bathroom. Some clumsy pawing at the wall where I expected a light switch would be gave me the necessary illumination to avoid making a huge mess, even if it also forced me to screw up my eyes against the unwelcome glare.
I'd just finished washing my hands and was reaching for the light switch again when the shout came.
"Who the fuck are you?"
My heart just about froze in my chest, my hand still poised over the switch and my eyes probably bugged-out like a cartoon character. Standing - seemingly horrified, at least from my first frantic glance - in the hallway was a stranger, topless and wearing nothing but a baggy pair of boxer shorts. He looked, I noticed amid my rising dismay, a little like Jacob.
And then I realized I was absolutely, entirely naked, and hurriedly tried to cover my crotch with my hands.
"I..." The words failed to make it up through my throat, leaving me blinking and gawping. I could only imagine that my expression of shock was the mirror of what I saw on his face.
"So, like, who the fuck are you?" he repeated, with a frown now. Some of his initial alarm had faded, replaced with what seemed to me like a growing frustration that, I feared, might eventually border on outright anger.
"I'm a... friend of Jacob's," I stuttered, eventually. Watched as his eyes glanced down over my nudity and then back up to look at my face with no small degree of scorn.
"Friend," he repeated, the emphasis as heavy as the subtext. Still, I nodded. Some judgmental teen was probably better than being accused of naked burglary.
"I didn't think..." I paused. "We thought nobody was home."
He glared at me again. "Guess you both thought wrong."
There wasn't much I could say to that. The more I looked at him, though, the clearer the resemblance between he and Jacob was to me.
"Are you Jacob's brother?" I ventured. He scowled.
"Are you fucking him?" he fired back, answering my question with one of his own.
Wincing, I took a half-step forward, hoping my intent to slip past him and back into Jacob's bedroom would be clear. "Maybe... maybe it would be better if he explained all this in the morning. Now we know there's someone else home, I mean."
He rolled his eyes. It looked remarkably like Jacob's expression.
"Sure, whatever," he said, shaking his head. I took advantage of what seemed like the most agreement I was going to get, and carefully eased my way past him. I'd made it almost all the way to the bedroom, my hand literally on the door knob, when he spoke again.
"Nice ass, friend." Sarcasm positively dripped from every syllable. I cringed as I opened the door and slipped inside.
The initial plan had been to slide back into my original position, but the unexpected surprises of my nocturnal outing left me lying, mortified, on the bed instead. After a moment, though, Jacob rolled over sleepily, his arm snaking companionable across my chest.
"Your brother is home," I whispered, not sure if he'd hear me or not. He shifted against me.
"Okay g'night," Jacob murmured, clearly still close to dreaming. It took me a lot longer before I finally drifted off again.
When I woke next, it was to sunlight streaming in between the slats of the blinds. At some point during the night we'd both turned, and Jacob's long, lean body was gently curved against my back. I could feel the thickness of his morning erection pushing against me.
Maybe I moved slightly; perhaps he'd already been awake. Either way, Jacob ran his hand down my arm, from shoulder to wrist.
"Morning," he said, voice quiet by my ear.
I turned a little, tilting back so I could half see his face while still keeping his erection pressed against my ass.
"Your brother's home," I told him. Could see enough of his expression to recognize his frown. "Or, at least, I'm assuming he's your brother."
"How do you know?" Jacob asked me.
I winced. "I may have run into him on a midnight bathroom visit," I explained.
Jacob sighed. "I see."
No harm in spilling every last detail. "And he may have inadvertently seen me naked."
A pause. "Right. 'May have'?"
My turn to sigh. "He saw me naked."
A longer pause. "Right. Okay."
When he swung his legs off the side of the bed, I felt a pang of disappointment that we wouldn't get to mess around again. Still, the knowledge that we weren't alone in the house wasn't doing much for my horniness levels, and I couldn't help but notice that Jacob had lost his erection, too. Standing, he pulled up a pair of briefs, then leaned down to grab a t-shirt.
"Breakfast?" he asked me. I nodded. "Probably best if you put some clothes on this time, though."
If looks could kill, he would be on borrowed time. With my death ray eyes not exactly delivering, however, I concentrated instead on pulling on my own underwear, along with jeans and my shirt. My chest felt fairly crusty, for want of a better way to describe it. I didn't even want to consider how my face might look.
Following Jacob down the stairs felt like trudging to a death sentence. Or, if that's a little too melodramatic, to an exam hall maybe. Whatever the metaphor, the thought of walking into the kitchen and finding an array of his family members all looking up judgmentally from their coffee and toast was not filling me with warm, happy thoughts.
In the end, the fact that it was only Jacob's brother there felt like a dodged bullet, even if the expression on his face was hardly a welcoming one. After a brief examination of my face, he looked back down at his phone, perched by the counter with a near-overflowing bowl of cereal.
"Tea, coffee, juice?" Jacob asked me.
"Coffee, please," I replied, then winced at how loud my voice sounded. The urge to scurry away and hide in a darkened corner - preferably a darkened corner of my own apartment - was strong. Jacob, for his part, seemed oblivious to how conspicuously awkward things were.
"You left the milk out," he scolded his brother. The younger youth rolled his eyes.
"You brought some random back home," he fired back. I winced again.
"Shaun, this is my annoying brother Kyle. Kyle, this is my friend Shaun."
I opened my mouth to say hi, but then closed it again. It really didn't seem quite the time.
"Do mom and dad know you're bringing weird guys around to fuck?" Kyle spat with no small degree of venom.
Jacob seemed unfazed. "Do mom and dad know you smoke weed pretty much every day before they get home from work?"
Had I been in better spirits, the speed at which the color drained from Kyle's face would've been fascinating to me. Instead, I just gratefully accepted the mug of coffee Jacob passed to me, declined cream or sugar, and tried to disappear into the bottom of the cup.
"Why would you tell them that!" Kyle clearly was unimpressed with his brother's line of thought.
Jacob sighed, leaning back against the refrigerator door. The way he crossed his legs at the ankles while he did it left his thighs looking incredible; it also did a not-insignificant job of pushing out the bulge of his crotch. Still, it didn't seem the right time to mention that.
"Why would you be such a dick about my bringing someone back?" Jacob fired back. Kyle scowled in that particular way that only teenagers can ace.
"I was just messing around," Kyle wheedled, apparently trying a different tack. His brother raised an eyebrow.
"Sure you were. Would it kill you to be vaguely polite for once?"
With dawning horror, I realized Jacob was looking at me when he said it, and then, seconds later, Kyle was staring in my direction too. I swallowed.
"Hey... Shaun," Kyle said, dredging up my name from his short-term memory, and clearly less than impressed at having to talk to me.
I nodded, minutely. "Nice to meet you, um, Kyle."
We stared at each other for a moment more, and then he turned to glare at Jacob.
"Happy now?"
Jacob gave an over-exaggerated grin. "Oh, just fucking ecstatic, sure."
Kyle rolled his eyes again, and then stood. With more than a little relief I realized he was going to leave. I found I was holding my breath as he walked past me.
"Next time," he muttered, "you might want to put some pants on before your midnight piss break, Shaun." The heavy - and heavily sarcastic - loading of my name left me in no uncertain terms that we were not now the best of friends.
I closed my eyes for a minute, trying to find some possible positivity in this whole, terrible morning. When I opened them again, and glanced at Jacob, I could see he'd obviously found the humor in the situation.
"I can't believe you showed my brother your dick," he teased. My jaw dropped.
"I didn't exactly "show" it to him!" I fired back. "He was just... there. And you told me we'd have the house to ourselves. If I'd known he was going to be up then, I'd..."
"Have wiggled it around more?" Jacob prompted, chuckling.
I crossed my arms, accepting the idea that I was obviously going to be the butt of all jokes at this particular moment. Jacob wrapped a conciliatory arm around me, and pulled me into his shoulder.
"Hey," he told me, "you can wiggle it for me if you like."
Unfortunately closing my eyes, mortified, didn't stop me from hearing him laughing.
==============
Now that was awkward. Is Shaun going to take it in his stride, or are we due for some more over-thinking? Only part 5 will tell. If you're loving the story so far, tell me about it - alexp336@gmail.com or via https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/