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“That’s not how this is gonna go.” Leaning down, he hooks a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You’re supposed to watch. Actually, scratch that. You’re going to direct.”
“I … What?” I swallow thickly. “I said I didn’t want to touch.”
“You don’t have to. But you do have to tell me what to do.” He backs up a few paces and clasps his hands behind him.
“I’m not… I don’t…”
“See this?” He swipes a finger over the tip and holds it up for my inspection. “I need to come. I’m desperate for it. But until you give me some direction, I’m just going to stand here. Waiting. Hoping.” He tucks his hands behind his back again, rocking his hips forward like he’d fuck the air if he could. “Take pity on my poor swollen cock, Noah. Tell me what to do.”
Despite the playful pout, Tripp has a daring look about him, as though he enjoys being on display. Thrives on issuing a challenge. Whether it’s my competitive nature that refuses to back down, or my desire to understand what’s happening, I can’t stop myself from taking the bait.
“Fine.” I exhale heavily. “Stroke yourself.”
“How?” He sways his hips, showing off his length. “Fast, slow, gentle, hard?”
“Whatever you want.”
“No, it’s whatever you want.” His hazel eyes meet mine, gleaming with challenge.
A memory of Luca jerking himself furiously comes to mind, and for reasons I can’t explain, that dictates what comes out of my mouth.
“Hold it gently. Go slow, root to tip.”
I see the shiver travel up Tripp’s body as my words sink in, and a similar one washes over me as I watch his eyes flutter closed when he takes himself in a loose fist. With a relieved moan he moves his hand along his length, back and forth, skin stretching taut as his fist hits his pelvis, and bunching up as he moves to the crown.
The motion is fluid. Languid. Yet his muscles strain beneath the surface as if it takes tremendous restraint to handle himself with such care.
His chest rises and falls with long, deep breaths, a tempo you could set a watch to, though when he abruptly rocks to the balls of his feet, chasing his fist, the rhythm falters, and he seems to gasp. Then moan, trapping a plump lip between his teeth in an effort to contain it. That’s… God, he’s beautiful like this. Coiled. Primed. Aroused.
Tripp’s fist slides leisurely along his length, over and over again, the occasional thrust the only indication he wants it harder. Faster. I’ll let him have that, later. Right now, I appreciate how the slow pace allows me to see his entire, engorged cock, and how that’s making my body hum with an awareness that’s both familiar and foreign.
As his hand strokes toward the tip, I notice it’s purple, and glistening slightly in the dim light of the room. “You’re dripping.”
“So, you are watching?” He opens his eyes, bringing his gaze to mine, and the primal lust I see there has me licking my suddenly dry lips. “You got so quiet I was starting to wonder.”
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
“You could’ve left me hard. It wouldn’t have been the first time.” His breath catches as his fist reaches the swollen head. “And as for the choice you made, are you happy with it? Do you enjoy driving up my need by making me go slow, or do you just want to savor the moment? Look your fill?” He drags his hand back to the base, palming his sac and giving me an unobstructed view of his steel length.
I do like looking my fill, I think, but since I can’t make sense of that right now I bark out another command before he can jumble my mind any further. “Swipe your thumb over your slit. Spread your precum around the crown.”
“Mmm, it’s slippery.” His eyes flick to mine, watching me from under thick lashes. “Makes my cock tingle everywhere I touch it.” He sighs as he circles his finger around his tip, rocking his hips forward to increase the pressure, and a sharp zing ricochets through my length. Holy shit. I think… I think I’m getting hard.
“Cup your balls,” I rasp. “Roll them around your palm.”
His head falls back as he massages his sac, which makes his dick bob from the motion of his hand. “Fuck, that’s good.” Tripp spreads his legs, giving himself more room to work, plumping his balls in his hand as he rocks his hips, rigid cock spearing the air.
My own presses against the fabric of my shorts, the zing having faded to a pleasant warmth that leaves a faint hum simmering between my legs. I can’t help shifting in my seat to see what it feels like to have the material brush against my skin, which doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Those shorts getting a little tight?” Tripp bites back a moan as he tugs on his sac, his bold gaze tracking over me like a predator savoring its prey. Blatant. Unabashed. Hungry. I can’t remember the last time anyone desired me so openly before, if ever, and the way it makes my cock stir is both exciting and embarrassing.
I don’t recognize my body right now. The sensations I’m feeling, the thoughts running through my head. They’re echoes of a distant memory, things I’m vaguely aware of having experienced before, though not recently enough to know what comes next, and certainly not in this context. I have a sudden urge to bring this to fruition, to end it before I lose the tenuous grasp on my control, if only to maintain my dignity in front of Tripp.
“Grab your cock,” I bark. “Jerk it hard and fast.”
“Fucking finally,” he exhales, wrapping a tight fist around himself and pumping firmly, slamming his pelvis against his hand with each stroke. “Jesus those thirsty blue eyes of yours are killing me. I’ve never been this hard from my own hand before.”
Tripp’s abs contract under the power of his thrusts, the tendons in his forearm flexing as he vigorously works his shaft, which is now a dusty pink under the pressure of his grip. “Holy… Keep your eyes on me. Don’t look away until I’ve spilled every last drop.”
