Page 56 of Fragmented Illusions
I inhale deeply and this time, I do groan. He smells like sex. Like Fallon. Like him. I flick my tongue against his rim and his entire body shakes underneath me. “Sol. What—fuck,” he whimpers as I press my tongue flat against him and suck.
Spencer’s entire body vibrates as I flick my tongue around his rim, getting him nice and wet so I can stuff my tongue inside of his hole. I grip his ass cheeks harder, my fingers leaving indentations in his tanned skin as I breach him with the tip of my tongue.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” he pants, and the tremors wracking his body increase the further I push my tongue in. Feeling his body react to me like this—completely and utterly helpless to the onslaught of sensations—is intoxicating. The high is very similar to the one I get when I take someone’s life.
Now I think I understand why so many people enjoy sex. If this is what it always feels like, who can blame them?
His asshole is tight around my tongue as I thrust it in and out, curling it up and then flattening it inside of him, stretching him. I pull back slightly, and his rim is wet and swollen from my tongue and I can’t resist one last kiss. I lean forward and press my lips to him, sucking a little as I do. His legs give out as a garbled shout rings out, and I have to move my hands from his ass to his hips to hold him up.
“Sol,please,” he begs, and I find myself smirking before I correct it.
“What do you want? Use your words, Spencer.” I lean forward and wrap my right arm around his waist to hold him against me as I bring my left hand to his cock. It jerks, bouncing against his abs, as I wrap my fingers around him. He’s hot and pulsing as I squeeze his cockhead, forcing a strangled moan from his lips.
“Answer me,” I demand as I squeeze him again, this time stroking down and tightening my fist around the base.
“Make me come,” he pants. I watch as a bead of sweat trails down his temple and splashes onto his hand, which is clutching my duvet in a death grip. I want to lick it off of his skin; I can already taste the salty essence of him on my tongue but at the exact moment I decide to, Spencer opens his eyes, his gaze immediately locking on mine.
His eyes are half closed with pleasure, but I can see the desperation in them. Theneed—forme.
“You want to come for me, Spencer?” I ask him as I work him faster. When I get to his tip, I run my thumb along his leaking slit and smear his precum around before sucking my thumb into my mouth.
“Oh, fuck, Sol,” he whimpers. “That’s so hot.” His eyes roll back into his head as I press the thumb I just had in my mouth to his hole. I push past his ring of muscle, slowly, so I can feel him clench around me as I stretch him.
He whimpers and writhes beneath me as he allows me inside of him, lost in the sensations pulsing through him. With my thumb seated fully inside of him, I keep it still as I grab the side of his ass with my fingers and jerk his cock.
“Remember what I told you before, Spence?” I ask, and he shakes his head, his forehead rubbing back and forth across the blanket with the way his face is pressed into the bed. Almost as if using the pressure of his head on the bed to keep him upright.
I lean down over his body, my clothed chest pressing to his sweaty back as I bring my lips to his ear. “Take it quietly,” I remind him, and his entire body shivers. I even feel his goosebumps against my arms.
Now that he’s quiet, trying his hardest to stifle his noises, I lean back and shift to the side so I can see every possible angle. I’m just as full of Spencer as he is of me, and that thought is enough to make precum leak from my tip, creating a wet spot in my boxers.
His breathing kicks up a notch and from my angle, I can see his balls draw up nice and tight, his release so fucking close already. Leaving my thumb stationary, I twist my hand up from his base and around his tip, smearing the precum that won’t stop leaking and running down his shaft.
Spencer’s body jerks forward and his face presses into the mattress as he shouts. I pinch his cockhead between my thumb and forefinger as his cock pulses. Hot cum spills over my hand and drips onto my black duvet, staining it with his release.
His asshole clenches repeatedly around my thumb, squeezing me so fucking tight I can’t help but to shove my thumb deeper into him, so far that my other fingers stick straight up in between his cheeks. He moans loudly, though the sound is muffled by the thick blanket.
I rotate my thumb inside of him, enjoying his warmth before pulling all the way out. Once my hands are off of him, his entire body sinks into the bed.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, and I can’t help the chuckle that spills from my lips. Spencer lifts his head, and his eyes find mine. His pupils are blown wide through his half closed lids, the blue of his irises almost invisible, and there is a blush to his cheeks. His stares at me for a moment before a smile pulls at his lips as well.
“She’s changing everything, brother,” he whispers. He glances down at the bed briefly before bringing his gaze back to mine, trepidation returning to his expression. He’s biting his lip and his brows are pinched together, though I can barely see them with the way his sweat soaked hair is clinging to his forehead.
“That she is,” I concede. Because she is. These… feelings she stirs up in not only me, but Spencer too, are already having a massive impact on our behavior and it’s only the beginning.
“Do you think she’s it for us?” he asks as he gnaws on his bottom lip. I lean forward and press my thumb against it, dragging it from between his teeth. Spencer surprises me by sucking my thumb into his mouth and I yank my hand back.
“That was the—”
“I know,” he cuts me off, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I set my jaw as I stare down at him, my eyes hard. I grab the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a hard kiss before pulling away and stalking across the room to my desk.
I yank open the drawer and pull out a special piece of paper. Thick and off-white in color.
“Is that…?” Spencer asks, and I hear his footsteps across the wooden floor as, I assume, he gets dressed.
“Yes,” I answer him, not elaborating. I pull out a felt-tip pen and begin to write.
Oh, pretty girl, pretty girl
