#*pro motor

“Y-Yes, that long-- What’s so funny about that? Ya jealous I can keep a boner for that long?” He snaps, though his petulance is very short lived as his pulsing erection becomes the star of a disappearing act, performed by the famed magician Marty DeMayo. Teeth dig into his bottom lip to stifle a moan, tiny fangs pricking the skin and urging magenta blood forth. He hates the way his voice sounds so he’ll do anything to silence his obnoxious cries.  “F-Fuck...”, is about all he’s able to manage the moment he allows himself to speak, letting the word fall back into his throat and rattle around as he fidgets in place, muscles tensing as the pads of his fingers roughly grip at the other’s scalp. His arms comply with the other’s movements, they can’t seem to do much of anything else at the moment.

Every tiny little motion of Lars’ hand as it beings to pump him is electric to the hypeman. The way the bandaids and bands make soft scrapes over his skin just adds texture and sensation that he now needs so bad. Marty’s lost the energy at this point to squirm in the uncontrollable way he normally would as he gets lost in pleasure, but he does have the energy to continue to make long drawn out groans as his dick twitches under Lars’ fingers.

The second Lars’ hot wet mouth has taken in the tip of Marty’s cock he’s shouting mixes of Lars’ name and some unintelligible babble. He tangles one hand in the boy’s hair and with his other hand he’s grabbing at his shirt. Lars’ mouth is so hot and so perfectly wet; his tongue feels incredible to the hype man as it laps at him, cleaning him up.

Marty is shaking. Lars’ mouth focused on his most sensitive spot and his talented hand stroking him slow has the older man going crazy. He feels a warmth inside his stomach that is about to burst, it matches the incredible heat around his dick head. “L-Lars…Lars! Ughn…oh, God, yes, Lars, Lars I’m, it’s too good, I can’t last–” He manages to get a sentence shouted out before his shaking peeks, his cock pulses rapidly, cum shooting out of him fast in thick, huge globs. He’s whimpering as his hips try to settle and his balls ache from being utterly drained completely.

He’s conscious of Marty’s moans, the steady increase in their frequency and volume. He’s aware of them, but barely registering what any of it means. He’s dedicated to his task as well as still stunned by his own euphoria, which lingers throughout his body, leaving him with a foggy mind and a tingling midsection. The sensation is heightened by the pro-motor’s taste, by the feeling of his warm cock heavy in his head, by the weight of the head of his dick pressed against his tongue. There’s nothing to think about. His senses are absorbing only the most visceral of things. 

He doesn’t think, either, when he hears Marty’s telltale cries as he approaches his climax. The way his voice fragments and he ejects Lars’ name from his mouth in something akin to a scream. His body simply knows, and he isn’t surprised when his mouth begins to fill with hot, creamy liquid. He continues to suck diligently and swallow each wave of the viscous fluid as it enters his mouth in spurts, feeling each ribbon of cum drape over his tongue and splash against the back of his throat. 

His hand slides all the way down to the hype man’s balls, massaging the swollen mounds as they’re depleted of their savory broth. His palm weighs against them, as if he can force more of it out, before the appendage attaches itself to his aching length, gripping it tightly as he inches up the shaft slowly, his actions again hinting at his wicked intentions. 

Once he’s sure he’s obtained every last drop he allows Marty’s cock to slip from his mouth, a dribble of cum clinging to his lips and forming a bridge between them and the slit of the older man’s phallus. It’s broken as Lars straightens his back, fixing his catlike eyes to the pro-motor’s gaze.

That last thrust has Marty moaning disgustingly loud as the pressure against his teeth digs in deep and just as quickly as the sensation happens, the hype man’s choking as he’s pressed flush against the younger boy and held. He wants to moan but it just comes out as strangled gasps as he hastily swallows the immediate excess flowing freely down the back of his throat. His nose snorts desperately for a breath of air and he continues to lap down any of that sweet pink cum as Lars just continues to empty into him.

As the wave of orgasm seems to slow inside Marty’s overflowing mouth he’s able to slack his jaw, slightly. He’s using his tongue now to guzzle down what he can, but he’s also so utterly exhausted that any semen dripping down his chin is just left to fall with his drool, some of it onto his hard, exposed cock. The older man is looking up at Lars, trying to smile faintly in all his fatigue. His eyes are hazy but wet and he sighs contentedly; really he must be a mess of a sight.

His grip has loosened, lanky fingers trembling as they press into Marty’s hair, holding him only with the firmness necessary to steady his head so he can pry his still pulsing cock from his throat. He jerks his hips back and his massive length is pulled over Marty’s teeth one last time, exiting his mouth with a wet pop, still dribbling cum as it bobs between his legs at half-mast.