Hoochie for Calum and Jack

Bob’s nervous. Bob’s constantly nervous, but he’s extra nervous today as he watches you flit around the room, adjusting lights and cameras, smoothing out the sheets on your bed.

“You don’t have to do this if you can’t,” you remind him with a gentle hand on his cheek. “I can do something solo and you can film, like always,” you say.

“I’ve got it,” he says in reply. “I can do this.”

You tilt your head, hands on your hips as you study him. When your eyes lock on the way he fiddles with his fingers, he puts his hands behind his back and takes a few deep breaths. He keeps his eyes downcast, afraid that if he looks at you, he’ll get hard before he’s supposed to. It doesn’t help that you’d already done a dry run and he could still practically feel you in his arms. You guys are getting straight to it: him on the edge of the bed with just his underwear on, and you in a sheer lacy set, ready to make him feel good.

Bob thinks that’s a good thing, because with the way his heart is hammering he’s not even sure he would’ve safely made it through undressing you.

“You’re so tense,” you sigh, when he tenses after you press a hand into his thigh. “You need to relax, baby,” you coo, pressing your body up against his. You hear him let out a shaky exhale, as you drag your nails gently down his torso and pressing a kiss to his neck.

You see his eyes flutter shut, watch the harsh bob of his adam’s apple as he tries to calm himself. You can feel his pulse racing under your tongue but he’s doing his best to relax beneath your touch.

“This is easy isn’t it,” you purr into his ear, your teeth tugging gently at the lobe. The blinking red light on the camera seems to blur as he stirs in his brief, his cock responding to the gentle press of your palm. “You just gotta be real good for me, the way you normally are. Can you be good for me, honey?”

He lets out a garbled moan, nodding his head frantically as you kiss along his neck. The scrape of your teeth along the column of his throat has him seeing stars, and the muscles of his stomach are already taut. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to survive much longer with your mouth on him, everywhere but where he wants you. You’re speaking to him, a fact he only knows because he can feel the soft vibration of your voice against his skin, echoing through him while he does everything he can to keep his composure.

It’s embarrassing, how easily he responds to your movements, the way the sight of your hand over his hardening cock — even clothed — has him aching for more already. He wants to rush you, take your hand in his so he can slip it under the waistband and feel your soft palms over the heat of him. His hands twitch where they rest next to him on the bed, and the muscles in his forearms twitch with the effort of remaining still.

“You can touch me, you know,” you say matter of factly, but there’s an air of impatience beneath of it all. It’s not a request, it’s a command, and Bob’s nothing if he’s not obedient, shifting so he can run his hands along along your torso, thumbs grazing over your covered nipples.

“That’s it,” you whisper, as you ghost your lips over his. “You’re supposed to have fun too, remember?”

Bob barely manages a whispered agreement as he presses his lips into yours, feverish hands pushing the cups of your bra down so he can squeeze at you. He’s rewarded by the high-pitched whine that escapes you and he smiles against your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

He’s about ready to combust when you finally slip your fingers under the waistband of his briefs, your fingertips grazing over his tip already sticky with want.

“Leaky today, aren’t you?” you laugh, bringing your fingers to his lips and watching as he takes them gently into his mouth and cleans them off. You tug them out, pulling him closer, stomach aching at the faint remnants of him on his tongue. Your hand slides back into his briefs, grabbing a tighter hold of him, warmth spreading through your chest when you feel the way he throbs in your hand.

You swallow up his moans, greedily slotting your mouth back over his, nose bumping uncomfortably against his as you pump him slowly, ignoring the impatient way he paws at you.

“Slowly, baby,” you laugh into him as you feel him grow slick. “Still want you in me,” you whisper, and his hips jerk violently into your fist. He fumbles the strap of your bra down your shoulders, detaching from your lips so he can close his mouth around your nipple, sucking harshly as he groans into the flesh. Your pace falters and he smiles, grazing his teeth along the hardening bud. He switches to the other, mouth hot and wet as he grunts into your chest, sliding slick through your hand as he gets lost in the feeling.

He whines you let go of him, press your sticky hand gently to his chest as you stand in front of him, pushing him backwards into the pillows as you motion to the handheld camera on the bedside table. He gets the hint, hands shaky as he switches it on and waits for it to focus on you.

He follows you as you kiss down his torso, tongue darting out to swipe just below his navel as he groans and twitches.

“That feel good, honey?” you ask. You work your way back up, focusing your mouth around his pecks, looking up into the camera as you bite gently. The sensation alone is enough to rock Bob, but your eyes as you stare up at him awaken something dangerous in him.

“Baby, I need words,” you say, pressing a kiss to his sternum. “Wanna hear your voice,” you plead. It takes both his hands to steady the camera as he grants you your pleas, voice coming out in a shaky sigh as you graze your teeth over his nipples, paying them equal attention before you slide back down, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his underwear and tugging them down gently.

“You’re being so patient today,” you muse. Bob watches as you press a kiss to his leaky tip and he whines when you pull away and a tiny string of glistening keeps your lips connected to him for a split second longer before breaking. He can’t stop his other hand from coming down to between your bodies so he, can use the tip to smear more over your lips.

You don’t break eye contact as you take him into your mouth, getting comfortable as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible.

“Fuck, wait,” he pleads, camera trembling in his hands. “That doesn’t feel slow,” he says, groaning as you bob your head. “Feels anything but slow,” he continues.

“Slow as I can go, baby,” you mumble from around him. “You can hold on for me, can’t you,” you ask when you feel him twitch inside your mouth.

He just nods frantically, trying not to focus too hard on the way the lipstick you’re wearing smears all over him.

You finally break eye contact so you can press your nose all the way to his pubic bone, your throat constricting as you struggle not to gag around him. He fights through the tightening muscle in his abs, grinding his teeth together as his other hand keeps your head pushed down. You’re messy, spit gathering at his base as you work, the sounds obscene as they echo through the room.

Bob thinks he’s died and gone to heaven, but he’s pulled back into the moment when you pull off of him. He lets out a dissapointed whine, silenced in his throat as you slide your panties off, the camera following your fingers as they tug it down your thighs.

You don’t bother with the bra Bob couldn’t bother to take off you, straddling him so you can slide yourself along his length. You let out a high-pitched mewl when his tip catches your clit, hands on his hips to steady yourself. You fumble around between your bodies until you can get a hold of him, steadying him so you can sink down onto him.

He focuses the camera on where his tip presses into you, watching as you slide down with ease, hot and ready for him.

“You’re so wet already,” he moans, “all this from sucking me off?”

You nod, eyes closed as you let him stretch you out, slowly grinding against him as he pans the camera up. He lets it linger on your chest, his free hand coming up to squeeze at your nipples as your hips move slowly against him. He can’t stop his hips from bucking up into your heat, impatient to have all of you already. He lets the camera land on your face as your eyes flutter shut, your jaw slack with pleasure. He snakes his hand up to rest rest on your throat, the light pressure urging you on, breathless as you sing his praises.

It’s music to his ears and he’s drunk off the sound of your voice, his head spinning as his hips rise to meet yours. He drags the camera back down to where the two of you connect in a steady rhythm and wet slapping sounds. He feels delirious, as he presses up into you, completely lost in how well you take him. He wants nothing more than to flip you over so he can rut into you properly, but you’re working now and he needs to co-operate.

His heart skips a beat when your hands slide up to his chest, bracing against it as you pick up the pace, eyes watering with desparation as you stare down the lens of the camera, straight at Bob. He can’t help the way his hand tightens on your hip, or the pathetic strangled sound he lets out as he loses himself in you, hips bucking erratically while he tries to keep the camera steady. He almost gives up when you keep going, then press your fingers into his mouth, tightening around him so tight it almost hurts but through what can only be described as a miracle he holds it, keeps it on your face as you come down, your chest heaving as you take deep, shaky breaths.

He sighs in relief as you climb off of him, then groans as you lie on your back fingers coming down to spread your lips.

“Bob, baby. Camera,” you motion to the camera in his hand. “Can’t hold it much longer,” you laugh weakly. He feels like he’s moving through jelly as he aims the camera at the mess between your legs, watching as he drips out of you.

“C’mere for a bit,” you mumble through a giggle pulling him to you so you can press sloppy kisses all over his face. “Did so well for me,” you sigh, pulling away so you can see his eyes.

“Really?”

He presses a kiss into your neck, his hand snaking down between your bodies so he can push what’s dripped out of you back inside.

He watches you shudder at the fullness as you nod, pulling him into your chest so you can drag your fingers along his scalp.

“So good. Best ever,” you mumble sleepily, stroking his face. “My favourite.”