blood and bile

Connor winced at the pain in his knees against the bathroom tile. His position wasn’t particularly comfortable, but in his mind it was all a part of his latest, greatest self inflicted task. His mind swims in every ounce of whisky he’d downed to escape his feelings. About four in he knew it was no use.

It’d been the theme of the evening, jokes about sex and muttering about trying something neither of them had before. Rocco had thought it was all in good fun, but it became apparent to him that Connor seemed more serious than usual. It was somber, and oddly aggressive.

“Yer’re a man, ya know whatcha like. Havin’ another man try at ya ain’t gonna hurtcha. There’s a mutual understandin’ there yer not gettin’.”

“I dunno,” Rocco shrugged with a smile while fighting off a second hand embarrassment that made him push his beer away from him, “Never occurred to me. I’m not usually askin’ if dudes will blow me. ”

“…What if he finds out he’s good at it?”

The entire interaction was reeking of desperation.

When Connor wants something, nothing can stand in his way—that was just the type of man Rocco always understood he was. When that something was him, and there was a hand placed on his thigh just out of sight of the other bar goers, he took it upon himself to ask why he would deny something from someone so headstrong about everything he did. Plus, Rocco was in a dry spell, and he’d never call Connor a man he didn’t find attractive.

For Connor, however, this was one of his morbid curiosities. His feelings were Rocco were long unexplored, and kept quiet for a plethora of justifications—or at least, that’s how he often explained it to himself. Something in him wavered that night. Maybe it was in the way Roc had carried himself that night. His laugh, the way that he smelled. He couldn’t run from it, and he could tell Rocco wasn’t either.

Two fifteen minute spaced out bathroom trips later, and there Connor was, drooling with his cheek to Rocco’s favorite pair of black slacks. At least he was somewhat dressed for the occasion.

Rocco’s hand extends and makes contact with his other cheek. It’s sweet, it’s loving, but the thumb that comes to swipe his bottom lip is expectant. Connor’s lips part in welcome while his heart pounds against his ribcage.

“…You, uh…sure you wanna do this?” Rocco cranes down towards him, fearful his voice would bounce off the tile.

Connor’s eyelids were heavy lead anvils, and his head a useless boulder. He works against his own weight to look up and into Rocco’s eyes. There’s something so bright about him—he’s never seen him gleam like this. He sputters in his confessional, he just wants to tell him he’s having second thoughts—but to lie to his paragon is to bring shame to his beliefs.

Doped by his own lackluster confidence, the question evokes Connor to move. He nods sloppily—he dared not answer with words, lest he admit something he wasn’t quite ready to yet—and brings his hand to travel up and his pants, the fabric rustling until he meets the clasps. He tugs at the fabric until what he searches for is exposed. Standing straight and blushed red, glistening at the tip. His eyes travel down the length in front of him and into the dark curled pubic hair at the base. He’d never seen one this hard and this close, and he swallowed every homophobic remark that he’s ever thrown—now he’d seen one up close…and it wasn’t half bad.

Rocco stares down at the scene. If he didn’t know any better, he thought Connor was mere seconds from biting it off. It didn’t deter him though, in fact, he twitched excitedly at the thought. Connor reacts with it, his eyes widening and his hand going to catch it as if it were going to fall off of his body. The new skin to skin contact makes Rocco jump again.

Connor’s head tilts as he lets the base rest on his lips, warm and damp, he can’t help but take his first taste of the skin. It’s both salty and slightly sweet. He presses kisses up the base to see if it all tastes that way. He takes a long languid lick along the curves, over the veins, and to the tip. Rocco shudders, so he does it again—this time he makes sure they lock eyes.

Rocco curses under his long breath out. Connor’s hot spit slides from his cock, connecting him back to his mouth. He reaches down and grabs his base this time, and his other hand takes a fist full of spiked brown hair.

He slides his pointed tip along his lips, he can feel hot breath in waiting. When his precum he glossed him over, he pushed his way in, and Connor, in all his obedience, gave him no trouble.

Connor takes his time to enjoy the new sensation. The limb is hot, it slides along his tongue until he can feel it in his throat. For a moment he can feel himself fighting the urge to gag, and quickly getting a taste of his whiskey from earlier, but he wins the fight to get it back down. His nose pressed in Rocco’s bush, the smell somehow more intoxicating, and he feels him hard on scrape against his jeans. Rocco moans softly, making Connor’s eyes lock back onto him.

“You kinda look like a cheap whore like this.” he cracks a smile and wheezes out a laugh. Connor doesn’t find it as amusing, no, his face reddens—how could something be humiliating and yet so arousing?

There was no time to dwell on that thought, his own impatience had begun to take over. He starts bob his head forward, fucking Rocco’s cock as deep into his throat as he could take it. His tongue swirls along the base. He can feel Rocco’s every reaction. He coats him in spit again, so much so it’s started to slide down his chin. He can taste his alcohol again, and he can hear the gurgling of his throat as he tries to get used to the pounding against it.

Rocco’s moans slowly grow in volume, he can’t help but watch the smaller man choke on him. He grows greedy with his desire though, and grips tighter on his hair. He pulls him off suddenly, spit trailing with him as he coughed him back up. Connor gripped his thighs, gasping to catch his breath, and he rested his cheek against him again.

“Could I…get deeper? You wanna try that?”

Connor nods again, and returns to attention.

He grabs him at the hair tightly this time, and slides into his mouth again. He puts himself as deep as he can go, deeper than Connor himself would try. He sputters and coughs and gasps with his eyes water, but he doesn’t beg for it to stop. His thick cock bulges in his throat, tight and warm, Connor’s stomach churns as he watches Rocco bite his lip and pick up speed.

The sounds become repugnant as Rocco fucks into his throat. Connor whines and tears flow from his red face, but he’s already started leaking in his jeans.

“Fuck, you were made for this. ‘Sure this isn’t your first time? Shit—I should have you speed dial—”

Connor’s eyes rolled back in his head as he tried to concentrate on not letting anything unwanted come back up. The motion sickness of it all was hard to fight, but his position—being purely used, he could barely contain his excitement. Had he not been already drowning in booze, he’d have been able to get even drunker off the taste of him alone. He makes a pained sound just as Rocco pulls out of him again, holding his head back with his hand on himself.

He jerks himself hard and fast as he chases his release. He concentrates on Connor’s soaked and pink face still tilted upwards. Connor’s chest was beating even harder than before, his vision blurred as he watched the tip pointed at his face and waited with indigent anticipation. He opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue, wide ropes of spit parting as he waits.

He comes hard and fast, shooting onto Connor’s face amidst a slew of names. Connor’s attempt to catch anything is futile—it coats most of his face, making him close one eye just in the nick of time.

Rocco finally slows, breathing heavily as his soft, now sensitive cock deflates. He holds himself up along the bathroom stall, and then takes in the mess he’s made, hand still gripped on the others hair.

Connor remained on his knees, hands settled on his thighs, tent still pitched in his pants, trying to reel himself back into reality.

“…You alright?” He finally asks. There’s a silent pause, but he watches the fire reignite in Connor’s eyes.