With a shaky breath, Ashton shoved it all down, planting his feet as wide as the pants bunched at his knees would allow and gripping those shoulders tight.
"W-what are you going to do?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Whatever I like," Dylan informed him, igniting the air in Ashton's lungs. "Unless you use your safe word. Remember what it is?"
"Y-yes," Ashton nodded slowly; his eyes wild, his body trembling.
"Good." His voice was rough, his expression pure devilish desire as he smirked up at Ashton. That cocky mouth was red and shiny with spit from when he'd damned well sucked down Ashton's dick like a sorority chick's first daiquiri, a little clear pearl of pre-cum beading up on the tip of Ashton's cock at the thought. "Now relax."
Relax?
How in the world was he supposed to 'relax', when Dylan took him back into his mouth and —
A hand slid firmly up the inside of Ashton's leg, brushing experimentally over Ashton's balls before the touch turned more purposeful. Ashton gasped, fingers flexing on the solid swell of Dylan's shoulders as he was cupped and played with, his cock gently sucked and teased by Dylan's mouth.
God, it was so good. It was so damn good. Ashton wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout; shivering and kept suspended right at the edge of not enough, he couldn't think, his brain too wrapped up in mouth and hand, in grip and suck, in —
OH.
The air had hardly left Ashton's lungs before it was followed by a whimper, his legs spreading wider of their own volition as Dylan began to stroke Ashton's taint,hard.
"Feel that?" Dylan whispered as he sent light flashing along Ashton's spine. "That's your prostate. You ever had anyone play with it before?"
"Nnnnn—!" was the best reply Ashton could give just then; his thoughts scattered as Dylan's mouth engulfed him once more, words beyond his ability to muster.
Oh, how he wanted to thrust into that sweet, wet heat; ancient instinct telling him to take, to conquer, to claim. And though somewhere deep inside the moaning, gasping, ragged shell of his body, some sliver of Ashton knew better, knew to hold still, to bepolite.
But Dylan demanded yet more of him still, for anytime Ashton's hips moved even the smallest fraction, Dylan's knuckle withdrew. Each time Ashton flexed, or even so much as trembled too hard, Dylan slowed, releasing him just shy of his peak. He'd hold the head of Ashton's cock just inside his mouth, pillowed lightly on his tongue; over and over again, until Ashton was utterly desperate with need.
"Dylan, p-please," Ashton panted, flushed and sweating, quivering with the strain of keeping still.
"Please what?" Dylan chirped, not letting up on Ashton even an inch.
Ashton groaned, shifting his legs wider. "You know what."
"Mmm.¿Cómo dices? No te escuché,“ Dylan teased, as if he couldn't possibly guess.
"J-just do it," Ashton growled, eyes clenched tight. He still wasn't certain he wanted to do this, to be honest. But he knew in his gut he couldn't wait any longer to find out either. "L-like you said. Please.Please."
There came the sound of spitting, and Ashton dug his fingers into Dylan's shoulders, pulling him close. And then there was a finger, slick and sure, sliding up, up, up and around —
Ashton sucked in a sharp breath.
— around Ashton's h-hole.
Ashton groaned, shifting back into the pressure. Wondering —
"You sure?" Dylan asked softly.
"Yes," Ashton squeaked out, nodding. "God.Please."
His eyes flew wide as the pressure withdrew, the protest dying on his lips as Dylan spat on his finger again. Those cinnamon-flecked eyes shone bright, locked on Ashton's as Dylan slowly — maddeningly slowly — breached him, pushing past Ashton's rim, further and further as Ashton's body trembled and clenched around him as Dylan sank deeper inside.
"You look so fucking sexy right now," Dylan murmured, gently pulling out before pushing back in. And again. And again?
Oh, hell, he wasfuckingAshton. Dylan was inside him; there was something — someone, aman— inside him; a strange, almost uncomfortable, oddly intriguing pressure where Ashton had never felt anything like it before.
By itself, it wasn't… Well, it wasn't transcendent or anything; a confusing mixture oftoo muchandnot enoughhis body didn't seem to know what to do with. But knowing it was Dylan, knowing that he had a man'shandin his ass, this feeling ofceding control? That was…that was interesting. Especially as Dylan continued to thrust, rubbing and sliding against the rim as Ashton panted, tilting his hips and spreading his knees wider to give Dylanallthe room to work.
