#outtake?

Trent slowly pulls back, eyes hooded and hazy with desire as they slowly look up to meet Ted’s, his lips shiny and red. The sensitive head of Ted’s cock drags out slowly as Trent pulls back, almost like he’s reluctant to part, and it smears pre-cum on his lower lip, resting there for a moment before parting completely. A little drool and pre-cum strings between his cock and Trent’s gorgeous mouth for just a moment before breaking, and Ted can’t take his eyes off that beautiful flushed face, that gorgeous fucking expression that’s trembling at the edges like Trent’s the one seconds away from coming. His hand is still loosely curled around the base of Ted’s cock, not applying pressure anymore but warm.

And he’s a mess, fucking wrecked, mouth fucking—used and perfect and still shiny with drool and pre-cum, lips a little swollen and trembling like Trent’s having a hard time controlling himself, cheeks flushed, and then there are those eyes, looking up at Ted with such obvious want and pleasure.

“Was that good?” Trent asks, and his voice is low and rough from desire, from sucking Ted’s cock, having Ted in his goddamn fucking throat, and his eyes are dark and pupils huge and they’re all hooded with desire, looking up at Ted because he’s pretty on his knees and he’s asking if it was good, asking if he was good, and he sounds so goddamn earnest and that—that’s just too much, it’s one step too far. Trent Crimm, face flushed and pretty, dazed and wrecked with lust, kneeling and earnestly asking Ted if he he’d been good, if Ted had enjoyed him sucking his cock—

Ted lets out a strangled groan, one hand flying to the base of his cock to try and stop himself even as the other instinctively tightened in Trent’s hair. Trent let out an involuntary little noise as Ted tugged his hair, keeping his head in place, and moments later Ted was coming all over his handsome face.

Trent let out a little gasp, flinching a little in Ted’s grip—but his shiny, pre-cum smeared lips parted shakily, his eyes flying shut, his whole face going slack as Ted’s cum squirts all over it… his cheeks go darker and Ted only has a moment to appreciate how goddamn hot he looks, on his knees and wrecked and still holding Ted’s cock and face covered in Ted’s cum godfuckingdamn, when the mortification hits.

“Oh—goddamn, damn, Trent, I’m sorry, I didn’t m—” he says, shame edged with horror leaking into his voice, and he lets go of Trent’s hair and Trent—

Trent whimpers. He whimpers “no—” and even as his own hand is dropping to practically shove itself down his pants he moans, “Ted, Ted please—hands—please—”

And Ted gently, hesitantly puts his hands on either side of Trent’s head, fingers in his hair, not pulling, and Trent moans, that perfect fucking mouth still so close to Ted’s cock as he—he touches himself. Face splattered with Ted’s cum, in his mouth, Ted’s hands in his hair, and Trent touches himself almost frantically, moaning, and as his head tilts back Ted’s grip tightens a little on instinct and Trent moans louder and Ted doesn’t think about it, just tugs a little harder, holds Trent’s head in place, and Trent—

Trent’s back arches and he comes. Comes hard, just from touching himself a little, just from sucking Ted’s cock and Ted tugging his hair and having Ted’s cum on his face goddamn. Ted’s spent cock twitches, just a little, as he watches Trent with wide eyes.

And then Trent’s breathing hard, eyes still closed in pleased little slits, and his shoulders drop as his whole body relaxes. He barely stays upright, practically panting as he shivers through little aftershocks.

Ted lets his hands move down to cup his face, ignoring how some of his own cum smears under his thumbs—it’s filthy hot—and Trent relaxes further under his touch, swaying forward a little into it.

Trent’s still breathing a little hard, leaning happily into Ted’s hands. Recovering, but—trusting, pleased.

And then he says, still all hoarse and low but breathy, “fuck. Fuck, Ted.”

Ted rubs his thumbs over his cheeks, fingers cupping his jaw, and says, breathless and without thinking, “god, you’re perfect.”

Trent shudders happily. Apparently he likes praise, and Ted—Ted’s happy to oblige, because Trent fucking deserves it, and god Ted loves his reactions.

Ted sinks to his knees—wincing a little as he does—and lets his hands move back up into Trent’s hair, cradling either side of his head, and leans in to kiss him. He can taste his own seed on Trent’s lips and he happily swallows Trent’s little gasp. Trent’s arms sling over his shoulders—his pants are undone, he’s a sloppy mess in more ways than one, and he’s kissing Ted open-mouthed and messy and eager. It’s hot and filthy and slick and Ted wants to—to knock him over, climb on top of him and between his legs, kiss him deeply. Pull his hair, pin him down, grind their hips together, draw those beautiful noises from him.

It’s actually kind of—striking, how much he—how much he wants. How fucking hot Trent is like this, how much Ted wants to fuck him, how much he wants to be kissing him and swallowing those beautiful noises he’s making. Trent’s so fucking hot, so fucking good, and Ted wants him so goddamn bad—

They finally break apart, lips messy and slick and panting into each other’s mouths, and Ted says—a little shocked at how low and hoarse his own voice is—“you look—fuck, Trent—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but god you look good.”

Trent’s looking at him like he’s hung the moon, all awed and surprised and dazed but—kind of soft, too. “I didn’t exactly mind,” he says, breathless and low and playful. “It was—it was good.” He paused, and then, hesitantly, “Did you—sorry, I. just from me talking?”

Ted gives him another little kiss—not sure why, he just wants to—and Trent leans into it, too, smiles, and then Ted pulls away and says, “Don’t underestimate that pretty mouth of yours.”

Trent laughs, small and a little incredulous, but real. “So I did do a good job, then?” he says.

“Very,” Ted promises fervently. And then, again, sort of on autopilot, he presses a kiss to Trent’s forehead—bare, unmarked—and says, “as gorgeous as you look, we should probably get you wiped off before that gets uncomfortable, huh?”

“Probably,” says Trent, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off Ted, and his smile hasn’t faded an iota.

Ted should probably think a little harder about how fucking unexpectedly hot he’s finding all of this, how he keeps kissing Trent even though the whole point was helping Trent with blowjobs not—not this—but he dismisses it. No, it’s not a big deal. Intimacy during sex, especially with friends, was perfectly normal, so kissing Trent wasn’t really that weird. Finding his cum on someone’s face hot was normal, guy or not—just a natural consequence of sex. That’s what all of this was—a natural extension of deciding to have sex with his friend, who was objectively handsome. Ted had eyes. And it felt nice to be touched, to have someone want to be good for you and to make you feel good, no matter who that someone was. And especially if that someone was your friend, someone objectively attractive, someone you had warm feelings for anyway—even if you were both men, and even if you were heterosexual.