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“Rent?” he asks, feigning confusion.
“It’s a fee some people have to pay—with money—to be able to live in a room with four walls and a roof.”
“That’s absurd. I have far more than four walls and a very large roof, and I’ve never had to pay a dime. And what does this have to do with working anyway?”
I smile because I can’t help it. I like his snark and his games. “Some people have to perform services for other people in order to earn the money I mentioned, which is used to pay the rent.”
“Services, huh? You mean like a job?”
“Exactly.”
“I love performing job services,” he says, his hand snaking beneath the covers to find my erection. “Hand jobs, blow jobs…”
“Not that kind of job, silly peach. Although there are some people who earn their money doing those jobs, too.” I hiss as his fist wraps around my rigid shaft and pulls.
“Do you think I’d be good at that?” he asks.
“Mmhm.”
“Is it because I can’t touch your cock without drooling? Is that what would make me good at it?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
“How much would you pay?” he asks, kissing my chest and continuing to tug. His wild curls tickle my chin.
“I’m broke, so we’d probably have to work out some sort of exchange that didn’t involve money.”
“And what if I pay you to live here and make yourself available to me anytime I want you? What would you do with all that money?” He gathers my balls on his next upstroke.
My neck arches from the bed, and I groan.
“Guess I wouldn’t need it,” I manage to say.
“And then you’d just be mine.”
I’m about to tell him to be careful what he wishes for, but he’s making his move, putting his head under the covers and sucking my dick into his mouth, using his hand to work my nuts and my base.
“Fuck,” I bite out.
Did I mention he gets better at this every time?
Because he’s on his stomach, coming at me from the side, he’s left his back and ass exposed, easily within reach. I run my hand down the satin skin of his back where lean muscles work to power him through his “job,” and then I caress his ass in its totality before swallowing hard and sliding my fingers through his crack.
He hums around my dick, and I marvel once again at how turned on I am. At how excited he gets me with little to no effort.
At this point, I have to concede that I’m not as straight as I thought I was. I’m not saying I want to go cruising gay bars, but I’m not over here wishing Olivier didn’t have a cock either. The fact that he does have one—a long, beautiful one—excites me even more. I drag two fingertips along his scrotum, pressing firmly in several spots on the way back to his hole until I find a place that makes him shudder and groan. He even pulls his mouth off my cock to gasp.
I settle in, enjoying his mouth on me while I explore his backside. Once again, I’m a passive but fully aroused recipient of all his wild sexual energy. It feels almost worshipful. And I’m not mad about it.
At some point, I whip the covers off so I can watch him deep throat me. Using my other hand, I hold him by the hair and aim myself properly to get his lips down to my pubic bone. I praise him when he takes me whole. I have an eight-inch dick when fully erect, so I realize it’s no small feat, one I doubt I could accomplish with his equally impressive member, and maybe that’s why I haven’t tried. Fear of failure. Humiliation. Disappointment. The usual.
He makes me come too easily, and I consider what I have to offer him once I can think clearly again. He’s trailing kisses up my abdomen, his mouth sticky with cum, and I can tell by the way he keeps adjusting himself against the mattress he needs to get off, too.
“You wanna fuck again, don’t you?” I mumble, slurring…maybe.
“Is that a trick question?” he asks, pausing to look up at me.
“I’m offering.”
