Authors: Sylvie
Rock Rod 3 (7 page)
And that response feels right, because Alex hasn't earned more than that and he knows it. But he thinks maybe some day he'd like to earn more than that. And the thought makes his balls tighten. He drops to his knees in front of Peter and reaches one hand back between Peter's legs to feel for his hole.
Looking up at Peter, he uses his tongue to guide the broad head of Peter's cock between his lips, just suckling a tease there as he feels how slick Peter is. He pictures Peter doing it himself, leg hitched up, fingers desperately shoving as much of the slippery stuff inside as he can manage.
He moans, and Peter stifles a soft cry.
For a while, Alex just plays, getting used to the strange rhythm of slowly sucking Peter's dick and fingering him at the same time. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a minute or two. If he waits too long he'll probably faint from the majority of the blood in his body being in his cock.
He thinks he hears something and looks up at Peter's face. Peter's lips are parted and wet and flushed.
"Please," Peter exhales. "I need more."
Alex lets Peter's cock slide out of his mouth and stretches his jaw, relieving the sweet ache. He doesn't stop fingering—not right away. He digs his finger one more time to press it against Peter's prostate. "Get up on the bed. Hands and knees."
Peter moves shakily, reminding Alex a lot of a newborn baby deer. It would be adorable if Alex wasn't wondering if he has humping prowess worthy of Peter's previous experiences.
He slips Peter's glasses off and places them on the desk beside the bed, before leaning over and kissing Peter's mouth at the awkward angle. It's mostly licking. Peter licks back, and it's filthy and wet and perfect.
Even though Alex wants to slide up behind Peter and start nailing him without another word, he takes his time. He kneels behind him and admires the bright colors of the tattoos across his back. He thumbs Peter’s ass cheeks apart, spreading hard until his hole gapes just a little. It's pink and soft-looking and slick. Alex bends and kisses it, tonguing the rim and tickling him where he gapes every time Alex kneads his thumbs again.
Peter makes low, needy sounds every time he breathes out. It's a strange sort of moaning, like he's hurt. But Alex knows exactly what it means. He remembers this part, the edge of feeling pleasure and not feeling enough pleasure. It aches.
Alex wipes his mouth against the back of his hand and kisses Peter's lower back. He eases off the bed, and this time it's his turn to feel like a baby deer. His knees feel numb as he grabs the condom off the desk by the bed and fumbles twice before he can get the package open.
"Fuck," he says, laughing. "Peter, help me out."
Peter turns back to look at him, his face sweaty and pink at the cheeks. He smiles and shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed. "Come here."
"Angles," Miranda murmurs.
Alex sidesteps so the camera has a view of Peter rolling the condom on for him. He hisses at the pressure and the feel of Peter's grip. He'd been trying to ignore his own raging hard-on but now that it's getting attention he may have a crisis on his hand. He should have jerked off twice as much before this.
"Can we still do it like that?" Peter looks up at him, his gaze open and trusting. "From behind?"
Alex bends and kisses him, and Peter makes a sound of hot relief against his mouth. When they move together, it's more of a scramble than anything else, like they've both abruptly decided that this is it—there's no more screwing around. It's business time.
It isn't until Peter is on his hands and knees and Alex is lining up his cock at Peter's slick hole that it really hits him. He's going to do this. He takes a trembling breath and hesitates.
"Fuck me," Peter says softly. "Babe. Please."
Alex strokes his thumb at Peter's rim one more time and presses his hips forward. The first moment almost hurts. Peter's hole grips the head of his cock like it's choking him, searing hot even with the condom on. Then the tightness eases and the heat envelops him and it's so wild watching his rock hard dick disappear into Peter's body.
"Oh God."
Peter groans and shoves back at him. Their skin slaps together, and Alex's balls swing. He pulls back slowly, just to see what it looks like. And then he grabs tight onto Peter's hips and thrusts forward. It punches a soft groan out of Peter—a sound that Alex wants to hear again. While they're pressed tight together, he gives his hips a grinding sway, feeling the way the sensations shift and Peter's hot body tugs and pulls at him.
"Faster. Alex. Hard." Peter makes thin, desperate sounds between each word, between each breath. "Please. Jesus, Alex. Please."
It's going to be too fast, but that doesn't matter anymore. They'll do this again. They'll do it again and again. "Peter," Alex says, the sound ending with a low groan. He has to stop talking or he'll start spouting poetry. Love must be something like this, dizzy with heat and high on the sound of his own name spoken like a prayer.
It takes a few thrusts to get the rhythm just right. Not too shallow, not too slow. He knows it's perfect when every time he bottoms out it feels like he's going to lose consciousness. It's like the whole world goes strobe lit with flashes of pleasure. He cries out and groans, his balls drawing up and his dick going tight. He wants to slow down and try to prolong it but every time he slows, Peter makes a growling, feral sound and shoves back against his hips.
"God." So close. "God." Too close. And then he's over the edge already, bent over Peter's back and hugging around him and snapping his hips forward with shallow little shakes as he fills the condom.
They go boneless together, and Alex turns Peter on to his back with fumbling, sweaty pushes. He flattens himself on the bed between Peter's legs, his own ending up against the desk at an awkward angle. It doesn't matter. Peter seems to understand.
When Alex takes Peter's dick into his mouth, Peter places his hands on the back of Alex's head and thrusts up at him. It's probably the shortest blow job in the history of dicks and mouths. Peter comes hard, pulling Alex's hair and crying out and filling his mouth with salty cum. More than Alex can swallow. So much that when he pulls back it dribbles from his lips.
"Shit," Peter says. He drops his head back and pants like they've been running miles. Feeling gross and wonderful, Alex crawls up his body, trying to keep his softening dick and used condom out of the shot.
Beyond the moment when Miranda asked him to move over, he'd completely forgotten about Miranda filming them at all until now. He noses at Peter's ear and casts an arm and a leg over him and tries to catch his breath.
"Did good?" he whispered.
Peter turns his head and offers him a private, nipping kiss. "So good."
Miranda ends the scene without a word, giving them a thumbs up. She heads out of the room with her phone in her hand, texting, and Cory tosses a couple of towels onto the bed and walks out, closing the door behind her. Then they're alone in a strange echo of Alex's actual dorm room.
"I quit earlier, before this," Alex says. “Quit Rock Rod, I mean."
Peter frowns. "Why?"
"Because school's going to be really busy next semester with my internship. And I want to focus on being your boyfriend."
"That sounds like a tough job too."
"Somebody's got to fuck your sweet hole regularly," Alex says.
Peter laughs, his chest and belly jumping with it. "You're still kind of the worst at dirty talk, love."
The word hangs in the air between them, electric. Alex hides a smile against Peter’s damp hair, heat dancing all over his skin.
"It's not because all of this bothers you?" Peter's voice is small.
“None of this bothers me."
"Okay." Peter takes a quick breath like he's psyching himself up to jump off a diving board. "Because I'm not going to stop."
Alex rolls over so he can look down at Peter. He kisses him again, quick and firm. "Good. Because it makes you happy and I like it when you're happy. And it makes me horny and I like it when I'm horny. Maybe I can watch sometimes."
"Watch like... online or here?"
Alex shrugs. "Whatever you want. Whatever works for you."
Relief shines in Peter's eyes when he smiles and pushes up to kiss Alex tenderly.
Cory was right. They just have to let go.
Because this is going to be awesome.
The End.
About the Author
Emory Vargas loves knitting scarves, but only has about three weeks a year to wear them thanks to living in an obnoxiously tropical climate. Emory enjoys writing about tentative first time sexual encounters and amorous cephalopods, though not always at the same time.
More from this Author:
Contemporary
Western
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