He shakily closes his lips around my fingers, and I move them a little deeper, then in and out, just once, back and forth against his tongue, petting it. His eyes roll back; he’s shaking hard.
“See, this is a good boy,” I say, and I lean forward, crowding him. “And he’smygood boy, isn’t he?”
I barely brush against the front of his jeans, and he cums. He sucks reflexively on my fingers, groaning and trembling, shivering hard as pulses wrack his hypersensitive body for a long time, releasing built-up pressure from weeks of going without. He cums so hard for so long that a small wet patch manages to soak through his jockstrap and his jeans. I watch, transfixed, and the primal satisfaction of giving him what he so desperately needs is so good that I feel like I’m one touch away from cumming, too. Just from this. Just from getting him off with a little Daddy play.
“I see what you need,” I murmur as he pants hard, starting to come down. “Good boy, Tommy.”
He curls against me, shivering, and cries.
Chapter 20
Tommy
I’m crying. Sobbing, really, despite finally getting exactly what I wanted, what I needed, and feeling better than I have in a long time. My limbs feel weak and my head is spinning, and I can’t tell if it’s the drug or the release of so much built-up pressure. Probably both. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life. And now I’m crying against Young-gi’s jeans, my face tucked against his leg.
And thinking about it makes me realize how ridiculous this all is, how ridiculous I’m being, so I start laughing. Giggles suffuse through me, make me feel even weaker, and I sprawl across the back seat of the car, half on Young-gi’s lap, and laugh until my stomach hurts. I laugh until the tear tracks on my face are from humor instead of whatever mess I was feeling before.
Tingles sizzle along my nerve endings and I squirm against the soft leather of the seat, against the fabric of my clothes, against the warmth of Young-gi’s body under my shoulders and my head. His hand pets through my thick hair, he gently scratches my scalp, and I shiver with a loose groan.
“Feels good,” I manage, grabbing his hand and holding it there, even though he wasn’t pulling away. “So good. God, I needed this. I’ve been ready to explode for days. Ha, explode. I don’t mean that like, to cum, but, also, I kinda do.”
I crack another laugh and sigh. I stare up at him, fascinated by how gorgeous he is. His eyes are dark and unreadable, like always. Tension simmers between us and I squirm some more, unable to sit still. The quiet car is so unlike the throbbing noise in the club. Here, I feel like we’re the only two people in theworld–the only ones that matter. I’d do anything for him, and while part of me knows that’s insane and I should just chill out, I can’t muster the energy or anxiety to care.
And I feel so fucking good.
“Young-gi, touch me,” I beg. “Take my clothes off, let me–”
“No.” He doesn’t even let me finish. I pout, but he frees his hand from my hold and runs his thumb along my lips until I stop scowling at him.
“Why not?” I ask, sucking his thumb into my mouth.
“Because you didn’t ask before you got high,” he murmurs, letting me capture his finger with my lips, staring at them like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “You asked to get off, you asked to be touched over your clothes, to dance, for me to help you cum. You didn’t ask for anything else, so we’re not going there.”
I make a sad sound of disappointment around his thumb, but don’t protest too hard. I’m feeling so fucking good, I don’t think anything could bring me down. My lips tingle around his finger, and I recall the way he corrected me for my lies, the way he looked in my mouth, the way he made me stick my tongue out, the way he essentially gagged me from lying with his fingers.
Hot as fuck. Embarrassing, almost belittling. But fuck, it hit me just right.
He pulls his thumb away so he can go back to petting my hair. I shudder, and my eyes slide shut. I’m humming tunelessly, just a soft sound of my satisfaction. My shoulders are so unused to being relaxed that they almost ache from lack of tension. It’s weird, and I laugh again, a short sound of tired amusement. A jaw-cracking yawn comes next.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m sooo good,” I slur the words, blinking up at him. “So good. Better than ever. Warm, I feel so warm.” Then I squirm a little more and make a face. “Kinda sticky, though.”
Without thinking too hard about it, I reach down and try to pull my cum-soaked pants off. Young-gi’s hands are on mine in a flash, stopping me.
“No,” he says sternly, and I shiver. He sighs when I just stare up at him, my whole world feeling soft and good and free and easy. “I’ll get you a napkin or something, but you’re not getting naked.”
“A napkin from where?” I ask, and break down in laughter a second time. The thought of him going back into the club to ask for a napkin so I can wipe the cum out of my jock strap is hilarious to me.
His big hands slide down my chest and I groan, my laughter replaced with breathless tension. The dim car feels intimate, sensual. I roll over and push myself up so I can crawl into his lap and bury my head against his shoulder. Nothing is scary, nothing hurts or makes me feel sad. I just feel good. Nothing is stopping me from just doing whatever I want.
“Young-gi,” I sigh, pressing a kiss to his neck. “D–oh wait, no, I’m not supposed to call you that.” I chuckle and let myself start sliding down to the floor of the car. “I wish I could feel like this all the time.”
My reluctant, mysterious savior/the guy who just made me cum my brains out yanks me back up while fishing a phone from his pocket. When he presses it against his ear, I smoosh my face against the other side of it, wanting to hear the whole conversation. He huffs in amusement, or maybe annoyance, or both, but doesn’t stop me.
“Pakhan?” Yosef’s voice comes through the phone.
“Yosef!” I croon. “Duuuude!”
