Page 93 of Catcher's Lock
In answer, he pushes the plug back in, and this time it slips easily into place with barely any resistance. The now-familiar weight settles on my prostate, then spikes drastically when he taps the base with a series of steady pulses.
“Don’t come yet,” he warns. “There’s something I want to try first.”
“Yep. Okay. Better hurry up.”
His chuckle travels from his stomach up my thighs and straight to my balls, and I curse him out when he leans away, fumbling at the nightstand drawer before coming back with a bottle of lube—the same brand I bought earlier today.
“Did Ellis take you shopping too?” I ask, ignoring a twinge of hypocritical jealousy. He snorts.
“I’ve been keeping lube in the nightstand a lot longer than I’ve known Ellis.” He squirts a healthy dollop onto his palm, then swipes two fingers through it while I watch, mesmerized.
“Oh yeah? And what was a virgin like you using it for?” My snark is substantially undermined when he wraps his lubed hand around both our lengths.
“Use your imagination.” He gives us an experimental stroke, before squeezing our heads together. His foreskin rolls along the sensitive ridge on the underside of my dick, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from losing it.
“I bet you used to finger-fuck yourself on that little twin bed in the other room, trying to be all quiet so Jeremy wouldn’t wake up and catch you at it. I bet you got so hard thinking about how good my cock would feel inside you that you’d barely have to touch your own before you came.”
“You’re the one with a plug up his ass, writhing on my lap like a little slut,” he teases in that gravelly voice that makes my toes curl. “You think because I’m gay, I’ve been fantasizing about being fucked by you my whole life?”
“Yep.” I tug on his hair and grind down on his lap, smiling when his eyes flash in the dark. “And I wanna hear you say it.”
Leaning in, he brings his lips to my ear. “I used to finger-fuck myself every night, imagining your fat cock breaking me open. I’d stroke myself and stretch myself and come buckets with your name on my lips.” He punctuates the words with a devastating roll of his hips, driving his cock up my aching length and into his tight grip. His other hand works the plug in my ass, fucking it in and out with short, brutal thrusts.
I’m trapped between sensations, losing whatever battle this is on every front.
“Ungh.” I lace my fingers with his and squeeze to still the movement of his hand. “How’d you know it was fat? Were yousneaking peeks at my morning wood during all those sleepovers?”
“Of course.” He swipes his thumb up to press on my slit.
“Dirty boy.” I use my own thumb to tease his foreskin, rubbing it over the ridge of his crown, and I’m rewarded when his head falls back with a moan.
“I was a gay virgin lusting after my supposedly straight best friend. It’s the premise of a hundred romance novels. I was hardly original.”
“And what happens in those novels?” I whisper, dragging my teeth along his jaw. “Does the gay boy get epically railed by the best friend?” Taking over our rhythm, I jack our cocks together as I thrust along his length. It’s not terribly coordinated, because he chooses that moment to slip a lubed finger in alongside the plug and use it to add even more stimulation to my prostate.
“Every time.”
And.
I’m.
Done.
I sink my teeth into the juncture at his neck and shoulder as lights explode behind my eyes and the massive swell of my orgasm finally breaks against his shore. Cum pulses between our tangled fingers, adding its slippery heat to the lube as he rides me through my orgasm, driving his cockhead up my length to chase his own release with fevered snaps of his hips. My ass clamps down, sending renewed jolts of pleasure radiating from that insane fucking spot inside me, now sizzling under the combination of plug, finger, and my own squeezing muscles.
“Yes,” Josha hisses. “Fucking give it to me. Holy fuck, Quill, just like that.Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”
So I keep coming, and it’s not a swell or a tsunami—it’s the whole fucking ocean carrying me away beneath the stars.
When it spits me out, I’m lying on his chest with his arms wrapped around me, my ass throbbing around nothing and my dick sticky and spent.
I’mperfect.
“Well then,” I say, dredging up the thread of our conversation in a voice gone rough and raspy from sobbing my pleasure into his skin. “We’ll have to make that epic railing happen. It’s canon.”
“We can do that,” he whispers, chest rumbling with amusement. “Like I’d ever say no. But, Gem?”
“Hmm?” I nuzzle into his neck, and his hand strokes over my head, blunt nails dragging gently through the thick stubble.
