it was alright

dead dove: understand that the writing on this account may contain dark, extreme, disturbing, and morally questionable tropes at times. topics will be tagged. do not engage if you are sensitive to said topics as there will be no sanitization and no moralizing commentary; i expect adults to interact with me and, from adults, i expect maturity and the ability to discern fiction from reality and storytelling from endorsement. approach with mutual respect and i will do the same.

* note: that being said, i maintain the right to turn down anything i simply do not feel comfortable writing or anything that does not click with my writing muse.

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luke comes off as cool and confident. nothing ever gets to him. he’s always too calm, too chill, and too unbothered. it works for him. especially because he’s got this look in his eyes that reads ‘dead inside’ at all times. he’s rarely not wearing a straight face. sometimes he’ll smirk at you and it sends a shiver up your spine, but that smile never extends past his cheeks to his eyes. still, you love that crooked grin. it makes you blush every time you see it. you just wanna do bad things to him, but he never lets you get that close. that changed tonight.

you’re both at a local party and somehow luke is sitting down in a chair with you seated sideways across his lap. you’re laughing around the neck of a beer bottle as you lightly graze the mouth of it with your teeth. luke has been watching you work at it this whole time and you can feel something hard against your ass. he lets out a breath when you shift in his lap and you can feel it even better from this angle, so you make him an offer.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask. you don’t even let him answer before you’re dragging him off to another room so the two of you can be alone. “go ahead and sit down.”

“actually, i think i need to use the bathroom—” luke says. it’s an attempt to go jerk off by himself. you step out in front of him to block his path, then take a drink of beer and hold your finger out to signal that he needs to wait.

“sit,” you say once you’ve finished off your beer. he sits and you place the empty bottle off to the side, on the nightstand next to the bed. “what’s got you so worked up?” you hum and slip a hand between the two of you, then graze your palm over his clothed arousal just to be a tease.

“j— jesus,” luke stammers. his mouth goes dry and his breath hitches in his throat. he grabs at your hips, as if having something to hold onto will clear his head. you lean in, grinning, and breathe out a sigh of content. you’ve got him right where you want him.

“don’t think i didn’t notice,” you tell him, then grope him through his jeans. he stifles a moan and grips the blankets beneath him between his fingers. you can tell he’s trying his best to hold it together.

“what gave it away?” luke asks and you cock your head to the side like he just asked you a stupid question.

“i mean, i was sitting in your lap. did you think i wouldn’t feel it?” you laugh, then push him onto his back. your hand feels beneath his shirt; over his abs, then up to his chest and over his pecs. you give his cock a squeeze, then palm at him through his jeans.

luke comes apart fast. his cheeks are flushed and he looks frustrated. he’s holding back moans just to keep from seeming desperate or easy, but you know he needs this. your hand rubs at him a bit faster than before and you focus on the head of his cock when you get to it. you can see where precum is leaking from the slit with how it stains the denim and you can’t help but feel satisfied with yourself for getting him so worked up. “please,” luke begs and it goes straight between your thighs. you’re getting wet from getting him off.

“say that again,” you demand, then rub your thumb over the tip. you massage it, giving it plenty of attention. he squirms beneath you and you can tell he’s getting hot from the way sweat forms at the sides of his face.

you grind your palm into his cock a few times and watch as luke’s hips buck up. he pants out lightly, then begs some more.

“please— fuck, c’mon— actually touch me,” luke pleads with you, but you never give him what he wants. you keep him on the edge and in need by slowing your movements, then speeding them back up.

“open your mouth,” you say, and he listens. he opens his mouth and you spit into it, then place your fingers beneath his jaw to shut it. “now swallow.”

luke swallows just like he’s told. his tongue even peaks out to lick over his lips, like he wants to savor you. he can taste the alcohol in your spit as it mixes with his.

your free hand moves from his chest, up to his throat, then gets wrapped around it. you squeeze tight, until he has to hold his breath. by now, his hips are steadily rutting forward. he’s practically fucking into your fist and you’re in awe as you watch it happen. you’ve never had this much control over a guy before. it’s so hot that you can’t stop yourself from grinding down on his thigh to relieve a little bit of the pressure between your legs.

“pleas, please, please—” luke continues to beg, cock pulsing against the palm of your hand. you can tell he’s close, so you actually set a rhythm now. you stroke back and forth, from the base to the tip, then pick up the pace. he’s shaking his head, hands trembling as they reach for your wrist to try and stop you. you smack his hand away, then continue. he’s throbbing, twitching hard, and you can feel all of it.

“cum for me, baby boy,” you tell him, and luke does just that. he cums in his jeans, making a mess of him. his orgasm hits him hard and he gets choked up on the last moan that leaves him before he meets his release. he’s left panting out moans against your lips because you’re leaned in close now, ready to steal a kiss.

you kiss him hard. it’s hot and heavy and your mouths move against each other, tongue shoved halfway down each other’s throats and spit connecting the two of you by time you break away to breathe. you swipe your fingers through the cum that’s leaked out of his jeans and bring them to his mouth, then push them past his lips.

“suck,” you tell him and he obliges. he sucks at your fingers and licks over them, swallowing around them to clean them of any leftover cum. he looks so pretty like this; come apart at the seams, shirt pushed up and chest on display, cock still pulsing against your hand. he’s breathless, panting into your mouth while hands grip your upper arms. he slowly lessens his grip, after he’s successfully pressed bruises into your skin with it.

you climb out of his lap, then grab some tissues off the nightstand to help him clean up.

“fuck, sorry,” luke apologizes.

“don’t be. i’ve always wanted to make a guy finish in his pants,” you say and luke ducks his head down, completely embarrassed. he feels humiliated for letting that happen. you give him a peck on the lips, then pat his cheek and walk towards the door.

“what about you?” luke asks, then gets up from the bed.

“i’ll be fine,” you promise, but— if you’re being honest— you don’t want this to be over so soon. “you can always come by my place later and return the favor.”

“deal,” luke agrees, then heads into the bathroom to find a blowdryer for the wet spot on his jeans.