#martinwrites

You fantasize a lot.

Like, about things you probably shouldn't.

The biggest example of this is the fact that you can't seem to stop thinking about Michael. Getting him to piss himself, or to piss on you, or even to let you piss on him...

Really, all you can think about lately involves Michael and piss.

It's kind of fucked up, considering he's a close friend and coworker.

But it's not like it's ever going to happen. It is what it is, and it's really just a fantasy. No big deal.

There are occasions where Michael almost seems like he's flirting with you, but... really, there's no way. You try your best to ignore it, steer the subject away from the idea that he wants you. He probably wouldn't, if he knew what you were into.

There are a couple of times you get close to letting it slip, but it's like Michael's either oblivious or he's just not into it.

The biggest mistake you make is probably jacking off in the bathroom at work while Michael screams at you that he has to go. It's not like you wanted him to piss himself at work. He just had inconvenient timing.

"Hey, Ray," Michael stops you before you head out for home. "Nice job there. In the bathroom earlier. Asshole. You almost made me piss myself and you left your jizz on the floor."

You feel your face get hot and look away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Uh, y'know," you say dumbly, shrugging it off. "Didn't hear you. Sorry, man."

"Bullshit you didn't, Ray." He grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him. "I mean, say something if you want me to fuck off, but the way I see it, you were in the bathroom jerking off and I was yelling and begging..."

He's onto you.

"Are you saying you'd be into..." You trail off. You're not sure what you planned to ask in the first place. Into casual sex? Into you? There are a lot of questions you want to ask, and you know exactly how to put them into words. You're just not sure how to get those words out of your mouth.

"I mean, if you're talking about going home with you right now, I'd be kinda into that." He smirks. "But I'm kind of into you, too. Y'know?"

You nod, only a little hesitant at this point. If Michael wants to have sex with you, you're going to go for it. Piss or no piss, you're into Michael and he's offering.

You lead him back to the apartment complex, making fun of him when he refuses to jump over the fence. Loser wants to walk around it. This is why you always get home before him. Then you lead him up to your apartment.

Once you're inside, you avoid eye contact as much as you possibly can. He's trying to make eye contact, but you're too embarrassed.

"C'mon," he says finally, sounding impatient. "I was serious. I wanna screw around, Ray." He bites his lip and grabs your arm gently, so you look at him. "Unless you don't want to. Seriously."

Finally, you end up spitting out exactly what you're thinking. "I wanna piss on you, and I know it's weird, but it's--"

"It's cool," he says, cutting you off, and you think that means he's going to walk away. Then he adds, "I'll try it."

Oh, God.

Michael said yes. Oh, no. Shit. He wants you to pee on him. You're going to pee on Michael.

"The-- the bathroom, then?" You sound a lot shakier than you mean to.

"Sure," he breathes, "your choice. You nervous?" He laughs at you, following you into your bathroom and starting to pull his shirt off.

This is really happening.

You're going to get stage fright. Or die. Either way.

"So, you... really want me to...?" You're incredibly hesitant, even after he starts pulling his pants and boxers off.

"Oh, yeah," he says. "You want me, like... in the tub, or what?"

You nod, looking almost horrified. It's not like you didn't want this. It's just that now that you have it, it's a lot more nerve wracking than you thought it would be.

You haven't even processed what's happening, but he's laying naked in your tub, his legs hanging open. You haven't even really looked at him yet, but he's staring at you. Waiting for you to make some kind of move.

So you undress. Then you step into the tub, one foot on either side of him, and ask him one more time, "are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Michael's starting to get fed up with you, you think. "Do it already! I said yes!"

You take in a deep breath, let it out, take another one, try hard to calm yourself.

Then you let go, keeping your eyes on his face.

You're pissing on him. The stream is hitting his chest, splashing onto his face, running down his front. Michael looks like he's actually liking it, too. You don't remember if he was that hard before you started pissing. You don't think he was.

Fuck.

Michael likes the fact that you're taking a piss on his chest.

You make a little noise in the back of your throat, gasping when he starts touching himself.

"Oh my God," you whisper, shaking the last few drops of piss off your hardening cock. "Oh, fuck, Michael, can I..." You bite your lip. "Can I fuck your ass?"

"Shit," Michael whispers, rolling over and pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. "I honestly thought you'd never ask."

"You-- right here?"

Michael just nods, arching his back so his ass is higher in the air. "Fuck me right now, Ray, don't make me ask again."

So you lean down until you're on your knees, shoving your fingers into your mouth and getting them good and wet before pushing two in. Then, giving up, you spit on your cock and press the head against his hole.

You gasp when you manage to press into him. He's tight as hell, stretching out around you and making you feel like you're about to explode. He groans, pressing back against you until your cock is buried in his ass.

"Fuck," he gasps, looking for something, anything to grab onto on the smooth ceramic of the bathtub. "Ray, please! Hard!"

He's almost screaming with every little move you make. So pent up and needy.

You reach around him, slide your hand down his sticky-ish chest and tummy, grabbing his cock and tugging hard. You want him to come for you.

It only takes a few more thrusts for him to let go, calling out your name and then panting as you don't even slow down. You're surprised when it doesn't take too long to finish him a second time, or even a third time. You're stull thrusting, just barely holding it together, loving the feeling of his ass tightening around your cock with every orgasm.

It's not until he finishes for the fourth time that he asks you--begs you--to finish and then stop.

So you take just a moment, focus on how tight he is and on how perfect he looks beneath you. Focus on the thought of your piss splashing onto his chest.

That's what really does you in.

You fill him up, thrusts slowing before you pull out and all but collapse on top of him.

"Fuck," he squirms a little, rolling over so he's facing you. He kisses you right on the lips, surprising you just a little. It's a pleasant surprise.

When you regain your ability to move, you stand up, smiling at him before you turn on the hot water.

You're not exactly going to let him go without a shower after all that.

He stands up after relaxing for a bit, wrapping his arms around your neck. "So, um..." Michael pulls you to him, leaning his forehead against yours. "We're gonna have to do this again sometime."

You nod, grabbing him by the hips, pulling him as close as you can. "Yeah, that was... that was cool." You kiss him, licking at his lower lip just a bit. "Didn't expect you to be into it."

"Yeah, well."

You smirk at him, grabbing a wash cloth and wetting it so you can start to wipe him clean.

"You're, uh... really good at... y'know. Taking it." You think that's the worst compliment you've ever given a person.

He laughs at you anyway, taking the cloth from your hands. "I guess that's a compliment."

"It-- well, it was supposed to be..."

He wipes you down a little after he finishes with himself, then just leans on you. This is nice.

"You wanna take a nap? Or we could order food and then take a nap after we eat. Either way." You rub his lower back, leaning down to give his neck a few gentle kisses.

"Nap first," he says quietly, sounding beyond tired. You think you exhausted him a little. "We'll order dinner after."

You nod, turning the water off and grabbing two towels from your bathroom closet.

"C'mon, doesn't matter if you're wet, I don't care." You drape a towel over his shoulders and then grab his hand. "I'll just change my sheets later anyway." You pull him back to your bedroom, both still damp, and drop your towel on the floor before crawling under your covers.

You don't care how stuck to him you get in your sleep. It doesn't matter.

When his King tells him to kneel, he kneels.

When his King tells him to kill, he kills.

The Mad King's warrior is loyal beyond loyalty, willing to destroy other men he was once somewhat loyal to. It's as if the King brainwashed him, removed all his free will, made him into his own pretty little puppet.

Michael, however, has a differing opinion.

He's not a puppet.

He's fully aware of his actions--he's just decided that his King's orders are more profitable than the rebellion will ever be. It had been a tough decision, really, but the pros outweighed the cons. Sure, he's asked to murder in order to prove his loyalty, but does it really matter?

His King is kind to him, and as the younger man gains more and more trust, he gains power. Power is arguably one of the most important things to Michael.

Nothing's better than carrying with him an enchanted diamond sword. Nothing will ever be better than when King Ryan actually turns his back on Michael. He tells Michael, "kneel," and then he stands up, does his own thing.

Michael is trustworthy. Trustworthy enough that the Mad King can easily be vulnerable to him.

If he wanted to, he could jam a knife into the King's back, tell him, "the rebellion says hello."

But he doesn't want to.

So he continues to kneel for his King. He does everything Ryan asks.

At some point, Michael becomes more than the King's warrior.

Every so often, his King kneels down in front of him, presses a kiss to his lips, and stands back up, like nothing happened.

"Good boy," he'd say, "stay down."

Michael couldn't help a bit of resentment--he's not a dog, for fuck's sake--but it's alright. The King's lips are soft, and it's always a pleasant surprise to feel them against his own.

After a long while, Ryan takes his hand and pulls him to his feet, tugging him along behind the throne and into the tiny bedroom beneath the ground.

Michael's been sent there before, and he's usually tasked with ridding the dump hole of skeletons.

That's how it used to be, anyway.

"Did a monster get in or something?" He tugs his hand away from Ryan's, peeking around the corner at the little notch in the wall that provides a place to toss useless shit. "Wait, I didn't pick my sword up off the floor up there, I need to go get it. Can I?"

"Nothing got in," he says sharply, grabbing the collar of Michael's shirt.

For a moment, Michael's worried he's done something wrong. Maybe Ryan heard from one of his messengers that Michael's been spending a whole lot of time speaking with a stranger. Maybe Ryan has a hunch. Maybe Michael just overstayed his welcome.

"I'm sorry, sir," Michael says softly, an attempt to get his King to let him go. "I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to what?" The King chuckles, pushes Michael back and forces him down when he tries to stand up. "Tell me what you didn't mean to do, my dear warrior."

Michael hesitates, just for a moment, but it's enough for Ryan to give in, letting a genuine smile onto his face.

"You didn't do anything, as far as I know."

The warrior almost breathes a sigh of relief. If he didn't do anything, he doesn't have anything to worry about. He'd never betray Ryan anyway--he'd just had a hard time lately getting old friends off his back. He makes it a point not to murder them. They're his friends, even if they are going against his King.

"I didn't do anything," Michael mutters, relaxing and letting his King hold him down.

"That's what I said, dear. Kneel." Michael listens, almost without even thinking about it. Ryan leans down and kisses him again, parting his lips against Michael's and giving his warrior a taste of tongue.

When Ryan pulls away and stands back up, Michael asks him, "what do you want me to do?"

It's usual, at this point, for Ryan to use Michael to relieve whatever urges he has. It doesn't bother Michael. His King is attractive and the younger man gets a sense of power from the whole thing. He's the one King Ryan goes to--nobody else, just Michael.

"We come down here and you assume I want something from you?"

"Yeah," Michael smirks, getting out of his kneeling position and getting comfortable. Nobody's watching. Nobody can criticize Ryan for letting Michael sit however he wants to. "Isn't that how it goes?"

"Usually, yes," Ryan says softly, removing his crown and setting it down on a table. "And today, too, I suppose."

"That's what I thought," Michael laughs, spreading his legs and starting to work off his shorts. "My ass, right?"

"Always," Ryan whispers, watching Michael carefully and letting the younger finish undressing.

When Michael's undressed, Ryan waits a moment, taking in the sight of his warrior. Vulnerable. His.

"So, what, are you just gonna stare, or are you gonna get something done?"

"Don't talk to your king like that," Ryan growls, grabbing Michael by the shoulder and straddling him, forcing him down into the bed even harder. "You know better, Michael."

The redhead lets out a soft sigh, nodding. "I know better, sir."

"Are you ready?"

Michael nods, wiggling his way out from under Ryan and bending over, giving his King easy access. In all likelihood, Ryan won't use any lube, but that's fine. It's easy to get used to.

Michael turns his head, watches Ryan gather spit in his mouth, and flinches when it lands on him.

As much as he enjoys being his King's favorite toy, he could do without being spit on.

After a moment, Ryan stands up and starts undressing himself, tossing his clothes on the floor.

"C'mon, Ryan..."

The King makes a face, smacking his warrior's ass and then spreading him open wide.

"I know you don't want it dry," he growls, "so I'm going to need you to suck my cock, come on. If you don't, you're getting it dry."

Michael nods, scrambling to turn around and do exactly what his King wants him to do. He forces himself down to the base of Ryan's cock, gathering enough saliva to get it good and wet. Before long, the older man's hand is on the back of his head, forcing him down further than he's able to go. Making him choke. Cutting off his air supply.

When King Ryan lets Michael pull back, the redhead has to take a few deep breaths to stop himself from choking.

"Please," the warrior whispers, turning back around. "Please, I need it."

For once, Ryan listens to Michael's command, spreading his ass cheeks open wide and then pushing his way in. Michael gasps, gripping the sheets and arching back against his King. Whimpers when Ryan grabs his hips, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises.

The King loves to leave his mark.

His thrusts speed up, far too soon for Michael to be ready, and he ignores Michael's quiet whimpers of, "slow down," instead digging his nails into the redhead's hips.

It doesn't take long for Michael to be begging Ryan to speed up, anyway.

"That's what I like to hear," the King growls, reaching around to grab Michael's fat little cock. "Come for me now, dear, let me feel you tighten up."

It's easy, now, for Michael to come on command.

His fingers dig into the bed beneath him and his back arches, muscles tensing up and then spasming, his body twitching beneath Ryan as his thrusting continues. Michael screams, begging Ryan to keep going.

The King, however, has a habit of doing the opposite of what his warrior wants.

He pulls out after a moment, shoving the redhead down and flipping him over to blow his load all over the younger man's face.

"Begging is unfitting for such a pretty boy," he says, voice low as he leans down to lick Michael's face clean. "I don't often like to hear that sort of thing from my warrior. You're supposed to be strong."

Michael nods, reaching up to wrap his arms around Ryan.

"Cuddle with me, then. Not begging. Telling."

Usually, Michael would flinch. Ryan would hit him and walk away.

Today, though, Ryan just chuckles, lowering himself onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Michael's waist.

The days leading up to RTX are all overly exciting. You're a couple of days early, but you're there. In Austin, Texas. You're going to get to meet the people you wait to hear every day, you're going to get to take photos with them and get them to sign things.

The first day is mostly "uneventful," as in you really only go to two panels and then head back to your hotel, figuring you'll get to the line to meet the Achievement Hunter guys earlier tomorrow. It's way too long by the time you get there, so you'll go as early as you can next time and hope you can be one of the first... hundred or so. Maybe.

You'll probably wait as long as you need to.

So you wake up at the ass-crack of dawn and shower, and you absolutely try to dress up. You're going to meet some of your favorite people in the world.

There's a bit of a line when you get there, but it's not as long as it would be if you got there, say, an hour later. The line's moving pretty fast, anyway.

You're nervous by the time you get to the front, but swallow the lump in your throat and go get photos taken with each of the guys. Geoff, Jack, Ryan, Michael, Gavin, and then Ray. You're most nervous to be that close to Ray. You're worried you're going to say or do something stupid. Like you're going to get nervous and just vomit words.

As it turns out, you don't have to say anything. Ray's the one who initiates conversation with you.

Just a simple, "hey," and you think he'd say hey to anybody, but it puts your stomach in knots.

"Hi," you breathe, hands shaking. You nearly drop your phone trying to get it back into your pocket.

"I'm Ray," he says, and you're confused. Then he adds, "but, uh, yeah, I think you knew that." He sort of laughs, more at himself than at anything else.

"Oh, yeah, I definitely knew that," you say, kicking yourself for sounding so much like you're at a loss. You tell him your name, then force yourself to stop talking.

"Well, hey, it's nice to meet you. I... have a panel to do later. You think you wanna hang around after that and come find me so we can actually talk?" He smiles, and God is it ever charming, then says, "I'm a little pressed for time right now, that's all."

All you can even do is nod.

You nod and then you wait around for the majority of the day for the Achievement Hunter panel. After that, you sort of wander around and look for Ray.

When you find him, he asks you if you want to head back to his hotel.

You think you're more nervous at this moment than you've ever been before in your life. You say yes anyway, following him all the way back to his hotel room and hesitating to say anything even once you're there.

Before you have a chance to psyche yourself up into breaking the silence, he slides an arm around your waist and pulls you in for a half-hug. "This is sudden and all, but..." His arm tightens around you and he leans in slow, pressing his lips against yours.

You panic for a moment, unsure where to put your hands, then wrap your arms around him, pulling his body against yours.

This feels surreal.

His hands slide from your waist to your hips, then he wraps his arms around you and reaches down to give your ass a bit of a cautious squeeze.

That makes you gasp against his lips and you do the same to him. His ass is definitely as nice as it looks. You'd squeeze it forever if you didn't think he wanted to move on to better things.

"What, um..." You hesitate, leaning back from the kiss and pulling him toward his bed so you can sit on the edge of it. "What do you wanna do?"

"Well, I mean..." he shrugs, leaning over and kissing you again. "It's whatever you wanna do, really."

This feels really fucking surreal, and you almost can't even believe it's a thing that's happening. Ray's kissing you and telling you this is about whatever you wanna do and if you stood up right now you'd probably fall right back down. Your knees are like jelly.

Your tongue feels like jelly in your mouth, too, like if you try to say real words you'll just spout gibberish. So you push him backwards instead, straddling him and kissing him again, mostly just taking in the way his body feels against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you closer, kisses you harder. Parts his lips just wide enough to let you feel his tongue against your mouth.

You're breathing hard already. You almost can't handle this. You open your mouth anyway, just a little, and taste his tongue. Guide his hand to your chest and gasp when he actually gives you a squeeze. You're not sure what you expected.

Hesitantly, you break this kiss, and ask him quietly, "would you... touch me?" You can only hope he gets the message. He stares at you almost dumbly for a minute, like he's surprised at your willingness to hop right into bed with him, but slides his free hand up your thigh to the hem of your shorts.

"You sure?"

"Do I look unsure?" You lean down to kiss at Ray's neck, slowly, sort of testing him to see if he even likes that sort of thing. He tilts his head back, parting his lips and shutting his eyes, not moving for a moment.

Then he does slide his hand up your shorts, grabbing at your ass first and then moving his hand around your thigh. That doesn't last long before he says, softly, "uncomfortable position," and rolls over so you're on your back beneath him. So you start undoing your belt, then your shorts, and you slide them off as far as you can and then let him do the rest.

His hands linger on your hips for a moment before he decides to just get on with it, pressing his thumb against you through your panties and rubbing enough that you can feel the fabric getting soaked through. You let out a quiet noise, then sit up and pull your shirt off, giving him a quick peck on the lips before laying right back down and working your bra off, too. If you're going to get naked, you might as well just do it.

Once you're both more comfortable, he pulls your panties aside and slides one finger into you. Just one finger--what a tease he is. While it doesn't feel good per se, as in he's not really moving his one finger around or anything, it's still Ray. Ray's got his finger in you, and that's putting your heart in your throat and your stomach in knots.

"More," you say softly, playing absent mindedly with your tits. "Another finger or something, you tease."

He smiles, and actually listens, too, pulling his finger out and then replacing it with two. Trying to stretch you out, you think. For things to come. Not that you really need a whole lot of foreplay. At this point, you're dripping wet, wetter than you've ever been, and you'd love for Ray to just pound you into the mattress.

But it's okay for him to take his time, too. You aren't going to complain. Much.

"Do you... have anything?" You try to get your message across with a gesture to the bedside table, hoping he came to his hotel room at least somewhat prepared for things he might have been planning to do over the course of the weekend.

"Yeah, of course," he says, and you barely restrain a sigh of relief while he leans over and digs through the drawer next to the bed. "So that's... happening."

He seems like he doesn't believe it, even though you think you're the one who should be questioning. "Yeah, I guess it is," you breathe, pushing your panties down over your hips and kicking them off. "If you want."

He just nods, pulling his own shirt off and making quick work of his pants, too, letting you get a good look at him for the first time. He's pretty much exactly what you'd have expected, but that doesn't stop you from reaching down and rubbing him through his boxers.

You want to hint at him that you don't want to be the only one naked here, but he seems to read your mind before you have a chance to, sliding his boxers down and letting his cock spring up. "Think you're ready, or...?"

"More than ready," you say, grabbing the condom off the bed next to you and tearing the packaging. You sit up halfway, grabbing his dick in one hand and using the other to roll it onto him. He's a little above average, you think, maybe a bit thicker than you'd have expected, but you're more than okay with that. You lay back, spreading your legs and then wrapping them around his waist when he gets close enough, trying to get him to move on with it.

Ray lines himself up, sliding in slowly and letting you feel him before he starts moving. He makes you feel full, and it's a good feeling. A great feeling. A feeling you don't want to end. But if either of you are going to get anything out of this he needs to start moving. Your legs tighten around his waist for just a second, and his hips stutter forward a little.

"You're-- wow," he breathes, leaning down to bury his face in your neck, giving you little lovebites. His mouth moves down your neck to your collarbone before he decides to focus on your breasts at least a little, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking. His hand cups the other, and he starts thrusting properly. Slowly, but it's something. Your back arches as he does everything he can to please you, his free hand sliding down so he can play with your clit. "Beautiful," he says softly, mouth still against your skin.

It makes your whole body tingle when he says that, and you want to ask him to say it again. Instead, you moan, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist again. He's getting you close, and he's barely had to touch you to accomplish it.

"Ray," you gasp, grabbing two fistfuls of his hair and pulling him up to kiss you on the mouth. "Ray, I'm close, please don't stop."

He moans at that, a sound you couldn't have ever imagined coming from his mouth, and gets a little more serious about it. Thrusting harder, rubbing your clit a little rougher, making you feel like you're about to explode.

"Come on," he whispers, "c'mon, I wanna feel you tense up."

It's like a command, and that's all he even needs to say before your back arches and your muscles tighten all at once and you're shaking beneath him, riding out your orgasm and returning each of his thrusts with one of your own. You're loud enough that you almost hope his neighbors can hear you, yelling his name with each thrust and begging for him to come, too.

He doesn't last much longer before he's thrusting erratically, his hips jumping forward at an awkward pace like he's about to fall apart. Ray whispers your name over and over, a quiet mantra as he goes off inside you, then collapses on top of you.

He rolls so he's laying on his side next to you, softening dick slipping out of you. Then he says, "thanks."

You have to laugh, because you haven't heard of anybody being thanked after sex. "You're... welcome, I think?"

"Say that after you write down your number for me," he says, and your heart jumps into your throat. You were almost sure that this was going to be a one-time thing, and maybe it will be, but he's asking for your number.

"Why don't I put it in your phone, and you can put yours into mine?"

He nods, pulling the condom off and tossing it at the garbage can. Missing, because that's how it always goes, but trying nonetheless. "In the morning, because I feel like I'm dead."

You hesitate a moment, then ask, "does that mean I'm not going back to my hotel tonight?"

Ray shakes his head, draping one arm over your stomach. "Unless you want to, I guess. Do you want to?"

You shake your head, too.

You don't really want to let him go at all, let alone go back to your hotel room.

You're both passed out pretty quickly, anyway.

He wakes you up before he leaves in the morning so you can exchange numbers, and you've never had butterflies in your stomach so bad before in your life. You had sex with Ray, and you got his number, and he wants to talk even after RTX is over.

You really end up hitting it off with him, though, and even though you're a little iffy about having a long-distance relationship, you go for it. You ask him if he wants to date you ("or whatever," you add, to make it seem at least a little like you don't want it so badly) and he seems happy to say yes.

You pretend like you don't get excited enough to jump up and down in front of your computer. You also pretend like you don't immediately call Joel and tell him the news.

Date night with Geoff is probably your favorite night of the week, and you always make sure you get it off work. Your boss isn't thrilled, but your boss can eat a dick. You like your boyfriend more than you like work.

It's kind of hard on you that you can't actually cuddle with Geoff (or kiss him, or hug him, or fall asleep with him and drool on him) but you love watching movies with him. He's got good taste, and you take turns picking movies. The best part is that you never fight over what movie to watch—he picks good ones, and so do you. You never have to argue about how terrible a movie is because you pretty much agree on which movies are stupid and which ones are good.

You love it.

You think you love him by the time you're a few months into the relationship, but you're kind of too scared to tell him that. It's harder to decide what people are thinking over the internet, so you aren't sure where he's at with his feelings compared to you. You're probably going to wait for him to say it first, really.

Even four months into your relationship with him, you still have a date night every week. It's not every Friday anymore, but it still happens no matter what. You watch a movie together, then get on video chat and make stupid kissy faces at each other.

It doesn't go any further.

Not... often, anyway.

Sometimes things escalate.

Mostly when Joel's out for the night. In fact, it's never escalated when Joel's at home, considering the computer room is also the living room, and you really don't want to do anything on camera in front of Joel.

It never goes further than you and Geoff touching yourselves without taking your pants off, anyway. You're a little too shy, and Geoff says he doesn't want to go too far before you're really ready.

Eventually, you are ready. You're ready to actually touch yourself on webcam with your boyfriend. You still haven't told him you love him, but that's alright. You'll tell him at some point.

But you're ready to go further now.

So after you finish watching your movie with him, you lean into the webcam and... well, you do what you've decided was giving him a kiss. That would be puckering up and getting real close to the camera. He smiles at you and does the same, then waves at you.

"Hi, baby," he grins, getting comfortable in his chair and pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders. You wish you could be under that blanket with him. Ugh.

"Hey, guess what?"

"Hmm?"

You take a second to bite your lip, look as seductive as you can. Then, you say, "Joel's out for the night."

"Oh," he says, licking his lips. "So, does that mean..."

"Yes. It means exactly what you're thinking."

In response, he just pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside.

"I'm, like, halfway there already," he tells you, biting his lip and already starting to palm himself through his jeans.

"Jesus Christ," you laugh, pulling your shirt off, too. "I didn't know you were into summer camp murders and little wieners."

"Shut the fuck up," he laughs, covering his face with his free hand. "It's not that! It's you! I'm into you, I swear it wasn't the movie."

"Are you sure?" You start to touch yourself, too, even though the movie was the exact opposite of a turn-on. "Because, man, you are awfully horny for somebody who's not into that stuff."

"Yeah, whatever," he breathes, and you close your eyes. Imagining that you can feel his breath on your neck. Just the thought of it, the thought of him pressing his mouth against your neck and breathing against your skin and leaving marks sends shivers down your spine.

"Take your pants off," you say quickly, before you can think better of it. If you're going to do this, you're gonna do it now and you're not going to wait anymore. Unless Geoff wants to. Which you're okay with. But you want to do this, and he was originally waiting for you to want to anyway.

He looks at you for a second, astonished.

Then, his face breaks out into that cute, familiar half-smile and he stands up so he can wiggle out of his pants, dropping them on the floor so he's left in his boxers. You can clearly see his erection through it, and the idea of touching it makes you twitch in your pants.

You can't wait to be with him for real.

"Are you gonna take yours off, too?" He's still got that smile on his face, like he knows exactly what you're thinking. Like he knows exactly where this is going.

You're almost shaky when you stand up to take your pants off, and you drop your boxers, too. Keep yourself covered with one hand so he doesn't quite see everything yet.

"You're not gonna make fun of me if it's small, right?" You laugh as you say it, even though you are kind of nervous about that. You'd be nervous about it if Geoff was a girl, too. Because he's a guy, you're mostly nervous about if he ends up being bigger than you.

You make him laugh, though.

"Why would I make fun of you? I'd be cheating myself out of watching you jack it."

"Right. Good to know that's the important thing here."

He laughs again, then hushes you. "Just show me, baby. If you show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"Oh my God, don't be gross."

"It's not gross! I'm just saying!"

"You're gonna kill my boner, you jerk."

He lowers his voice again, then gets closer to the microphone. Whispers, "come on, baby, show me."

The sound of his voice alone is enough to make you shudder, so you move your hands and adjust the webcam's angle so he can see better.

Geoff just stares for a while, that little smile on his face the whole time.

"Can't wait to have that in my mouth."

"Oh my God!"

"Is that all you know how to say?" He laughs and stands again, pulling his boxers off and standing there for a second when his cock bounces up.

He's big.

He's big and you can't wait to have him in your mouth, either. It almost makes you nervous. You've never sucked a cock before. Not that you think it really matters. His is so big that you're pretty sure that even if you had been with a guy before, you wouldn't know what to do with it.

Or maybe he's normal and you're small.

Or maybe you need to stop overthinking things and let yourself get off.

"Oh my God," you whisper, starting to stroke yourself. Slowly at first. Flicking your wrist a little every time you get to the tip of your cock. Squeezing just hard enough.

"It's true," he laughs, sitting back down and taking a good look at you. "I've reduced your vocabulary to 'oh my God'. Can I get some moaning out of you, or are you just gonna keep repeating the same thing over and over?"

"I can maybe say something else," you breathe, lifting your hips off your chair and thrusting into your hand. "Or... maybe I can moan." Just for him. You aren't usually loud, but if it's what he wants, you can probably manage to make some noise.

"I wanna hear you moan, baby, come on, moan for me," he whispers, wrapping his hand around his own cock and not even bothering to tease himself. You keep your eyes trained on him, watching closely, absolutely dying to be with him. In his apartment. Able to have his dick in your hand, your mouth, anything besides jacking off on webcam for him.

"I can do that," you whine, then you let out a long, loud moan, as loud as you can manage. That makes him moan, too, makes him grunt low in his throat. "You- you like that, huh?" Dirty talk isn't really your strong suit.

"I do like that," he says, his voice low. Almost husky. Incredibly sexy. "You sound good. Someday soon I'm gonna make you make those noises. All by myself."

That makes you moan again, and you think, at this point, that you're beyond words. You can't think of enough words in the english language to describe quite how stimulation feels right now. You feel overloaded. Like you're going to explode at any second.

You really can't do that. You can't embarrass yourself like that. This just started, it can't end so fast. Geoff will laugh at you. He'll make fun of you. He won't want to do it again.

After only a few more moments, you keen at him, then whine, "what if I was close already?"

"Oh, baby, I'd say I wanna watch you cream yourself. C'mon. Come for me, Matt, come on." He starts jerking himself faster, smirking at you. God damn.

Nervousness does kind of start to set in, but you can manage anyway. He gets you so hot, no matter how nervous you are. You're close, you're so close, you can feel that heat building up in your tummy and in your balls and you feel like you're about to scream. You need to come. You need to come for Geoff and you need him to come for you.

Your face heats up and your muscles tighten. Eyes squeeze shut no matter how badly you want to keep your eyes on Geoff. You feel like you're ready to burst, about to come harder than ever before. You feel like you're burning up.

When you finally get release, it's the most intense orgasm you've had in your life.

Your toes curl, your hips lift off your chair, you're unable to hold your noises back, you can't even stop yourself from screaming his name. You shoot onto your stomach and your computer desk, suddenly embarrassed that you've let yourself get so into this in front of him.

It lasts for what feels like forever, and you don't stop—you stroke yourself through another three orgasms, eyes still squeezed shut, Geoff's name the only thing out of your mouth.

By the time you're actually done, you don't think you could move if you tried.

Your third orgasm is dry, your fourth almost painful. It feels like your face is on fire when you finally stop, and when you open your eyes, Geoff's just staring at you. Astonished. Clearly finished long before you.

"I— shit, I'm so sorry, that... probably took forever," you gasp, licking your lips and reaching for a tissue or five.

"No, babe, that was... I don't care how long it took. That's probably the best thing I've ever seen in my life."

That makes your face feel even harder. You get to work on cleaning up while he just smiles at you, that cute, lazy half-smile that you love so much.

"I love you," you say softly, not thinking too much about it. You've embarrassed yourself once, and you might as well do it again.

But... you don't think you've embarrassed yourself this time.

Without missing a beat, he just says, "I love you too," and grins at you.

As if it isn't your first time telling him that.

You really do love Geoff.

A few moments pass in silence, both of you breathing heavily. You more than him, but he doesn't comment.

Then, he asks, "do you wanna watch me play Halo for a bit and then leave our microphones on when we go to bed?"

"Yeah. I'd love to."

You can't help but smile at him. You smile and you watch him play his video game, and when he's too tired to play anymore, and you're too tired to watch anymore, he takes his laptop to bed with him, and you take your microphone and your speakers, setting them both up far enough away from you that it almost sounds like he's sleeping next to you.

You forgot your anniversary.

You pretended like you didn't, but you absolutely did. You're grateful when you're given a chance to get out of the house and continue to pretend like you knew what day it was all along.

You're only supposed to be heading out to get some groceries so Matt can cook dinner, but you're going to get him flowers. A lot of flowers. Enough flowers that he'll never want flowers again. Enough flowers that he'll forgive you for the thing he doesn't even know you did.

Groceries come first, so you pick those up from the least busy grocery store you can find, then head to a florist so you can get... something. Roses, probably.

You try to get there and get out as quickly as possible with an absolutely disgusting number of roses, almost considering buckling them in in the passenger seat of your car.

When you get home, you gather up your groceries from the back seat, then grab the roses and head into the house, expecting to find Matt sitting in the living room. You set the bags on the kitchen table and take the roses to where you think he is, only to find... well, you find his socks.

You don't know how many times you've found his socks sitting under the coffee table. But you're not going to give him shit on your anniversary, so you just pick them up and toss them in the general direction of the laundry room.

That doesn't solve the problem of where Matt is, though. Maybe he figured out that you forgot your anniversary and left.

Without his pants, which are draped over the bottom few stairs. You pick those up, and toss them at the laundry room, too. You head up the stairs and find his shirt in the hall, and his boxers hanging off your bedroom door's handle.

You get what he's playing at now.

You don't think you mind. Not even a little bit. If you're too busy having sex with him, he can't possibly notice how terrible you are at remembering important events.

So you open the door, slowly at first, fully prepared to see Matt already up on his hands and knees, bent over and waiting for you, and you aren't entirely surprised by what you do see. He's got his legs spread, hips lifted off the bed just a little, lips parted and eyes shut. He looks perfect like this, of course he does. He bites his lip and flutters his eyelashes at you, giving you a look that just begs for you to touch him, and you'd love to do that.

It's just that he's got a fucking ribbon wrapped around his cock and tied in a little bow, and it's just about the silliest thing you've ever seen.

"You know that looks ridiculous, right?" Your voice cracks when you ask and you crawl onto the bed, just taking in the sight of him. Trying to avoid laughing long enough to get him to take the stupid ribbon off so you can actually get laid tonight. "I mean, you're sexy and all. But is your dick my anniversary present?"

"Absolutely," he says softly, reaching up to grab your hair, both his hands on the back of your head. He tugs you down for a kiss, biting at your lips and making little noises into your mouth when you press your tongue against his teeth. Sucks your tongue into his mouth, lifts his hips off the bed, searching for friction. So you give him just that—slide your hand down his chest then press your palm hard against his cock, smiling when he groans into the kiss.

"That's a present I could get behind, I guess," you breathe, pulling back from the kiss and sliding that stupid ribbon off of him. He shivers when you move your mouth to his neck, letting you mark his skin with a purple-red hickey and making a noise low in his throat. "Can your ass also be my present?"

He fakes thinking about that for a long time. Long enough for you to kiss your way down his chest and stomach, long enough for you to rub at his hipbones and tease the tip of his cock with your mouth. Long enough for you to frown up at him disapprovingly.

"You made fun of me for putting a bow on my dick, then you ask me if my ass can be your anniversary present." He laughs, pulls himself away from your mouth and rolling so he's on his stomach. Lifts his hips so you've got easier access. "That's stupid."

"I live to be stupid," you breathe, taking his hips in both hands and leaning down to give his ass cheek a kiss.

"I think you live to kiss my ass."

"I think you live to shhh."

Then, just to make sure he shuts up, you spread his ass cheeks and press your tongue against his hole. He gasps, presses back against your face and lets you slide your tongue into him. Spread his cheeks with both your thumbs and push his hips up so you have easier access.

"Fuck," he groans, presses his face against the pillow. You catch him reaching down to touch himself, too, only for you to slap his hand away so you can touch him yourself.

Matt makes the most beautiful noises, too. Little gasps and whimpers and whines. You love every second of it.

When you pull back for a breath, you ask, "is that good?"

The only way he can even respond anymore is with a nod and a wiggle of his hips, wordlessly begging you to keep going.

Instead, though, you pull back completely, pull your shirt off over your head. Kick your pants and boxers off, too, since you figure you aren't going to need those for the rest of the night. It makes him whine when your belt hits the floor, so you smile at him.

"Have some patience, baby," you whisper, hand on his hip, thumb spreading his ass open again. "I'm gonna give you a good time."

Matt sighs at you, lets himself relax a bit, lets his body droop. So you get the lube, slick your fingers up, and slide two in, biting your lip when it makes his whole body arch up beneath you. You press one finger against his prostate, giving it the gentlest rub, letting out a soft laugh when that makes him keen almost as loudly as he can.

"I need you to just fuck me," he groans, pressing back against your fingers some more and forcing you to angle them to press right against his prostate. "Joel, please."

"God, it's like you've been waiting all day for this or something. You act like I never touch you." You pull your fingers out of him, slide them down his balls and wrap your fingers around his cock, giving it a little tug. "How bad do you need it?"

"Bad," he groans, long and drawn out and whiny. "Please, please!"

You don't want to push him too far. Not really. So you get your cock good and lubed up, press against his hole, and let out a long sigh when you slide in, shutting your eyes and pressing all the way into him. Just letting yourself enjoy how tight Matt feels around you.

"So big," he moans, pressing his face into the pillow again and lifting his hips to press them more properly against yours. "Come on and fuck me, stop screwing around!"

"Whiner," you growl, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.

It shuts him up when you start really moving, turns him into a whimpering mess. Makes him keen when you slam right into his prostate, makes him beg you for more. You adore him. You adore the sounds he makes and the way he moves against you and the way he screams when you start pounding him hard.

The best part of it, though, has to be the noises he starts to make as he gets closer—constant grunts and little whimpers until he's finally so close to the edge that his muscles start to tighten around you. His hands grip the sheets so hard his knuckles are turning white, and he presses his face harder into the pillow to muffle all the noises he's making, only to turn so he can yell, "I'm close, I can't— I can't hold it in anymore, Joel, I'm gonna come!"

You reach around him, grab his cock hard and give it a few good strokes before he's shooting onto the bedsheets, his whole body tightening up all at once.

Even when he's finished, you don't stop. You need to finish, too, and you love nothing more than when he gets so oversensitive he's almost in tears. You keep pounding into him, keep stroking his now-softening dick, keep your body pressed down hard against his. Matt's fucking perfect and you won't ever get over that. You love it. You love every part of him, every second of the lovemaking, every little sound and move he makes. You love him.

"You take too long," he whimpers, voice straining as he tries hard not to collapse underneath you. "Joel, please, I need you to come!"

In the end, that's what sends you over the edge. The way he says your name, the way he begs you to fill him up—you can't deny him. You're coming hard into his ass, thrusts slowing down as you finish your climax and finally pull out of him.

That's when he collapses, his stomach rested right on the spot where he came. You think he's too tired to really care, and you're alright with that.

"Happy anniversary," you mumble, flopping down next to him and wrapping your arms around him, forcing him to roll to his side so you can pull him to your chest. You don't care that he's sticky, or that he got you sticky, too—just that you can be this close to him.

"Yeah," he whispers, trying his hardest to catch his breath. "Happy anniversary."

You mostly want to go to sleep, now, but you also still haven't had dinner. So you reach to the bedside table for your phone, then call for a pizza. He doesn't mind not cooking, you're sure, so why should you? You let out a long sigh as you hang up, relaxing in bed and then reaching to your side table again for your pack of cigarettes.

You put one in his mouth, lighting it for him, then take it from him once he's had a drag off it, taking a drag yourself.

Keep telling yourself it's not gay or weird, and lots of straight guys probably do it all the time, it's just that you've never really heard much of it. You have heard that it feels fucking amazing, and that's what you really want to test out. Jacking off is great and all, but sometimes you guess you want something different.

Those are your intentions behind snagging a round-handled hairbrush from the bathroom. It's just that once you've got the thing in your hands, once you're thinking about where it's actually gonna go, you're a little nervous. It takes you a long time to get yourself to do anything with it, and when you do, you only manage to hurt yourself.

Nobody tells sixteen year old boys that they should use lube, for fuck's sake, and they should be telling them that. Somebody should've at least told you that before a dull ache spread through your lower body and rendered you unable to jack off for the night.

So you wait for another night.

Another night when you can tell yourself how not gay it is, and how it'll feel better now that you've used your lunch money to get yourself a little bottle of lube.

It takes you a long time again, and even then, all you do is lube your fingers up and push one in. It doesn't really feel like anything at first, just like you're sticking your finger up your ass. It's weird. You aren't sure if you like it—but you keep going anyway. You have to see if it's as good as you've heard.

So you add a second finger, wincing and biting your lip and moving your fingers all around.

It just keeps being weird.

That is, until you find your prostate. You guess. Something that makes your body twitch hard, something that makes you shudder with pleasure. You find it and you rub your fingers against it, around it, everything you can to stimulate it.

Getting fingered is probably better than you've heard. Way better than you imagined.

So you switch from your fingers to the handle of the hairbrush, careful to get it good and wet first. Praying you won't have a repeat of last time. You feel like your heart's in your throat as you push it into yourself, angling the very tip against your prostate and keening softly as you push it hard against that sweet spot. Everything feels so good, so perfect. You're glad you tried this.

You have to press your face into your pillow to keep quiet as you shove the handle deeper into yourself, wiggling your hips just a bit and biting down on your lip a bit harder. You can't stop making noise, can't keep yourself quiet. Can't shut up, even for a second. Needing more in the way of stimulation, you take a second to reposition yourself, essentially balancing your body on your face so you can jack yourself off while you fuck yourself with the brush handle.

It's almost pitiful how little time you last, compared to how long you want to last. You shoot hard onto your bedsheets, riding out your orgasm with prostate stimulation and rough stroking, then collapse onto your side, pulling the hairbrush from yourself and trying hard to catch your breath.

You think that was the most fun you've had in a long time with jacking off.

It's not like you don't usually have fun, just that you don't usually have that much. You try not to overthink how gay it feels as you sneak into the bathroom to wash the brush's handle well (with water and soap) and find yourself new bedding so you can put what's dirty in the wash. You do start to think about it as you're re-making your bed, but force yourself to stop once you lay down and start to get comfortable.

You've liked Gavin for a long time. You met him in elementary school, and you liked him by the time you were going into middle school. He liked you, too, apparently—it was just that neither of you could admit to it, even to yourselves. He's the one who brings it up to you first, letting you know that he might like you as something more than a friend just before high school begins.

A year later, you're still with him.

On the day of your anniversary—which both of you forget, at first—you get your parents to give you the money so you can go out for dinner and a movie. Gavin tries to make you pick the place for dinner, and you try to make him pick, so you both end up deciding on going out for pizza, then decide to go and see a new movie that he was interested in.

"Back to my place?" Gavin takes your hand the second you're out of the theater, swinging his arm back and forth and making your stomach do backflips. You still feel like you have a crush on him, even if it has been a full year you've been with him.

You nod and start to walk back to his house, hand-in-hand with him the entire time. Once you get there, he says, "up to my room," so you follow him up the stairs and into his bedroom, pushing past him and flopping down on his bed before he gets the chance.

Then, he does something a little unexpected.

Gavin climbs onto his bed and crawls over you, straddling you and then leaning down to kiss you on the lips, little smirk on his face as he does.

"Well hi," you say, laughing and leaning up to rub your nose against his and then kiss him again. 

"I was thinking, since it's our anniversary and all... we could maybe do some stuff."

"Oh," you gasp, actually astonished at the fact that Gavin's the one to suggest it—he has told you, after all, that he's a little embarrassed about his body—but you aren't going to complain about it. "Stuff like what?"

"Like, ah... Dan, I sort of want to lose my virginity. To you." He bites his lip, lifts one hand to twirl his hair around his fingers. Nervous habit, you think. A little too cute, considering what he's asking of you. "If you want to do that, I mean. You don't have to."

You lean up to kiss him again, roll him over so you're on top of him. "Of course I want to, Gav, oh my God." You kiss him once more for good measure, mashing your lips hard against his and licking at his lower lip as gently as you're able to. You're going to lose your virginity, and Gavin's going to lose his, too. On your anniversary and everything. "Do you... have any condoms?"

He shrugs, sitting up a little so he can pull his shirt off over his head, letting you see his body for the first time. He's always worn a t-shirt when you've gone swimming, refused to change in front of you, refused to let you see his body—and you guess you can kind of see why, but it doesn't change the fact that you think he's absolutely gorgeous. He doesn't have very much body hair, which you think is what bothers him, but he's so perfect just the way he is. His skin is soft and warm to the touch, and his stomach has baby fat, for fuck's sake. You can't help but lean down to kiss at his neck, then at his collarbone. Kiss your way down his chest, press your lips against his stomach, feel the way he squirms beneath you.

"That's ticklish," he says, grabbing at your hair to push you off of him. You laugh and reach out both hands to touch his stomach, sliding up to his chest to pinch at his nipples. He yelps, shying away from you, then says, "don't do that, either!"

"Shhh!" You laugh and press a finger to his lips, then add, "your parents will hear. They'll murder me."

He frowns at you, sitting up and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, kissing you on the lips again. "Take your shirt off already," he whispers, touching the hem of it and kissing you one more time.

You do as he asks, pulling back from the kiss and tugging your shirt off over your head and tossing it onto his bedroom floor, not looking to see where it lands. You don't particularly care at this point—he hasn't done much at all, but he's got you hard in your pants and you need to be touched. Need him to touch you. You've fooled around with Gavin before—you have been together a year, after all—but you've never even talked about sex. You've never even seen each other fully naked.

He runs his hands down your chest, biting his lip and keeping his eyes anywhere but on your face. "You're so hairy," he laughs, tracing your treasure trail and then tucking his fingers into the waistband of your pants. "Could I...?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, breathing hard already. He fumbles around with the button of your jeans, then you take over, getting off his bed so you can drop your pants and boxers on the floor. When you turn back, he's got his pants off, too—and it takes you some effort to not stare at his cock before you go back to straddle him.

"You're big," he breathes, smile on his face like he didn't just make your breath catch in your throat.

You wrap your hands around both your cock and his, thrusting your hips to get a good bit of friction. Everything feels so hot and you feel so needy and good, and you're so glad you came back to Gavin's place with him.

"We should... I mean, if we're going to have sex, I'm going to put it in your butt, right?" You are the picture of eloquence.

"I hope," he laughs, twirling his hair around his finger again. You can't decide if you want him to stop that or not. "So... What?"

You squirm around on top of him, trying to get yourself to make words, trying to make words come out sounding better than I'm gonna put it in your butt. "I just, uh... Lube," you say, glancing at his bedside table and then at his computer desk. It wouldn't surprise you if he had some kicking around somewhere, it's just that you need to know where.

"Right," he has that cute smile on his face as he squirms out from under you, giving you your first good look at his body. Smooth chest, smooth stomach, lightest blond pubic hair, and a cock that you think looks big. It isn't like you've seen that many dicks in your day, so you can't say for sure. You do know that you'd like to have it in your mouth, so that's probably an indication that Gavin has a good dick. "Bedside table," he says, twisting his body so he can actually reach it. Stretched out, his body's even nicer. His hipbones jut out attractively, just begging you to touch. When you do, he gasps and jumps, turning back to give you a dirty look. "Still ticklish! If you're gonna touch something," he pauses, grabbing your wrist and shoving your hand toward his cock, "touch this."

You sigh at him, smiling anyway, grab onto his cock as he twists toward his bedside table again and opens the drawer to dig through it. He lets out a low groan as you start to jack him off, biting his lip and turning back to you, lube in hand.

"Are you gonna do it yourself?" You give his cock another squeeze, watching his face carefully for his reaction as you speak. Then another squeeze. Keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, loving the way his cheeks are flushing, the way his nose scrunches up just a little when he likes what you're doing for him.

"No," he says, licking his lips and passing you the bottle, laying back on the bed and shutting his eyes. "You do it."

"You, uh, want me to finger you?" You're a little astonished—at least if he does it for himself, he can't complain about it hurting because he knows what hurts and what feels good. You've never even fingered somebody. Not even a girl. Not even yourself. "I haven't done it before, Gav, maybe... maybe you should do it."

"Don't be a baby," he reaches for your hand, pulls it off his dick and makes you hold it out for him. Then, he takes the lube from your other hand and opens the bottle, pouring a good amount onto your fingers. "Just do it. I don't want to do it."

"Well, I don't wanna get it all over your bed, so..."

Seeming to get your meaning without you having to explain, he gets up on his hands and knees, facing away from you. Not that you don't want to take in every detail of his pretty face while you do this—you'd just rather not leave a wet spot on his bed.

Your fingers are almost dripping with lube, so you spread it around, get all your fingers good and wet, and press two against his hole. He relaxes for you almost immediately, and you watch his fingers dig into the mattress as you push into him. You try to move it around, bite your lip when it sinks in just how tight he is around your one finger and how tight he's going to feel around your dick.

"More," he says into his pillow, pushing himself back onto your finger and squirming around just a little. "Another finger, Dan." You almost hesitate—he's so tight as it is—but add a second finger anyway, try to stretch him out, try to make him feel good. "Try to... just..." He fumbles for words for a moment, then reaches back to grab onto your wrist. "Hang on, just try to, like... aim your fingers down a little. I'll tell you when you... find it." You're about ninety percent sure you know what he wants, though you've never actually touched somebody's prostate. You do as he asked you to, aiming your fingers downward and pressing against him, trying to find it and make him feel better than you already are.

Gavin doesn't usually moan a whole lot. He makes soft noises, but, as a general rule, Gavin keeps quiet.

When you touch his prostate, he does not keep quiet. The opposite, really. He gasps and lets out a long, low groan, then buries his face in his pillow, trying to keep himself quiet, likely for fear of being caught by his parents.

"That good?" You keep pressing against that spot, relentless and hoping he's enjoying feeling it as much as you're enjoying making him feel it. "You— you want another finger in you?"

"Yeah, come on," he breathes, his back arching as he lifts his ass higher. "Do it."

You're almost nervous when you add your third finger. Nervous thinking about the fact that you're going to have sex with him, nervous wondering if you're going to make him feel good or not, nervous about whether or not you're going to last as long as he wants you to.

You shove your fingers against his prostate again, biting your lip and watching him grab onto the bedsheets. "Fuck yeah, Dan, just like that." He lifts his ass higher, almost fucking himself on your fingers, whining and groaning and saying, "yes," over and over, a quiet mantra egging you on.

Gavin almost starts to choke on his moans, each noise cutting off before it's all the way out, and you're worried for a moment. "You alright?"

"Close," he groans, reaching down between his legs to touch himself. "So close, Dan, don't stop, don't fucking stop."

You're disappointed—worried that this will mean you won't get to make love to him—but you don't stop. You think that would be a bit too rude, even for you, so you keep it going, keep fucking him with your fingers and making him squeak with every movement. He sounds beautiful and you don't want to stop hearing those sounds any time soon.

After only a moment, he takes his hand off his cock, beginning to whine. It's a long, drawn out sound, a perfect sound, and he only quiets down as he starts to ride out his orgasm on your fingers. He's almost sobbing as he shoots onto the bed, finishing quickly and pulling himself off your fingers to flop down onto his side.

"You're done already?" You laugh at him, reaching down to wipe lube on his stomach and snickering when he punches you. "I haven't even gotten off yet, Gav..."

"Just gimme a minute," he says, voice quiet as he tries to catch his breath. He's almost curled up, careful to avoid touching any wet spot he's left on the bedsheets despite your efforts to avoid just that. "I'll get hard again."

"What, really?"

"Yeah," he grins, reaching down to start touching himself slowly. "It happens, you know. Just 'cause it doesn't happen to you..."

"Shut up, I'm normal. I don't know any guy who can get hard that fast after he splooges all over the damn place."

"You know how a lot of guys act after they splooge?"

You laugh and lean down to give him a kiss, tugging him over on the bed so he's laying right in his disgusting puddle, then pinning him down on his back. Working your way between his legs, you deepen that kiss, letting your hands rest on his hips as you taste his mouth almost tentatively. When you pull back for a breath, you say, "don't know how any guys act after they do that, 'cause you're the only one I've ever wanted to be with like that."

That makes him smile, his face flushed as he starts to get himself hard again. "You gonna fuck me now, Dan?"

"Well, yeah," you squirm closer to him, on your knees between his legs. He wraps his legs around your waist after a moment, pulling you against him. "If you want me to."

"Course I want you to, you dumb," he laughs, putting his hands on the back of your head and pulling you down for a kiss.

You reach for the lube again, slicking yourself up and then pushing into him as slowly as you possibly can, finding that he's just as tight as you expected he'd be. His legs tighten around your waist a little more and he pulls you in for a kiss again, open-mouthed this time.

Once you're all the way in, you stay still for a moment. Try to keep yourself calm and collected, try not to lose it already. You want to give him a good time. You want to make him come just by being relentless with his prostate, and you can't do that if you blow your load five seconds in.

"You're big," he tells you, sounding significantly less together now that you're inside him. Sounding more and more like he's going to lose it at any second. You love that. "So big, Dan, God, I want you to fuck me so hard."

"You shouldn't be allowed to say shit like that," you laugh, pressing your lips to his neck and winding your fingers through that long hair of his. "It's too hot."

He laughs, bites his lip, lifts his hips off the bed so you can push yourself deeper into him. He's so fucking tight around you, you almost can't handle it—especially with that look he's got. He's gone red all the way to his ears, his lips swollen from kissing you so hard and his face scrunched up just a little, just like it does when you make him feel good.

"Just start moving," he says, a little too loud, so you cover his mouth with your free hand, the one that's not tangled into his hair.

You listen to him, though, starting to rock your hips and trying to work yourself up to actually thrusting, trying to start off slowly so you don't lose it too soon. He's already finished once, but you've been needing this for almost half an hour now, your body begging for barely-held-back release. You angle yourself so you can rub your cock against his prostate, then take your hand off his mouth, reach down to touch him, just a little, just because you want to know what his cock feels like in your hand.

He's thick, so thick, and you think you want him to fuck you next time. That's all you can think about, even as you're giving him everything you've got, your pace speeding up and getting rougher. "This good, Gav?" You move both hands to grab onto his hips, certainly hard enough to bruise, and smash your lips against his again, not giving him the chance to answer you.

Your every move feels too much, he's too tight and too hot and too perfect and you wish you could last longer.

Gavin is absolutely too much, and you think that's the only way you can describe him.

Your movements start to get erratic, your hips snapping forward every time you pull back, your eyes slipping shut as you try your best not to come before him.

Breathing heavily, you move to kiss right below his ear, then give him a gentle bite and give his cock another tug. "Need you to come first, c'mon," you growl, slamming yourself into his prostate over and over, forcing little noises out of him. You pull on his foreskin, the way you like it, biting and sucking your way down his neck.

The way he tightens around you within seconds is fantastic, his small, breathy moans right in your ear, his back arching and his hips lifting off the bed. You keep an eye on his face this time, watching how his eyes squeeze shut, watching how hard he bites down on his lower lip. He's beautiful. He shoots onto his stomach, and he gets so much tighter that you can't help but lose it as soon as he does.

You collapse on top of him, just laughing at him when he whines at you for it, then pouting at him when he shoves you off and tells you, "lay beside me, you mong."

"Fine," you laugh, kissing his cheek and grabbing his comforter to wrap around the both of you. "Love you, Gav."

"I love you too, Dan," he bites his lip again when he says it, gentler this time. "So much."

"Happy anniversary," you whisper against his skin, squeezing him tight.

"Yeah," he mumbles, eyes slipping shut. "Sleep."