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.
"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.
Similar Books
