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Ishir couldn’t catch his breath. He was shaking, abs clenched in an effort to hold off, to be good. He couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing Zee, of breaking his own rules.
Zee was going slow, at least, jerking him off tight but sedately.
Ishir concentrated, managing to grow accustomed to the sensation, to the strain and the pain of it. He held himself tight, held at the edge but managing not to fall over it.
He was good. For Zee, he could be perfect.
“There you go. Fuck, you’re blowing my fucking mind, Zammy.”
“Good?” Ishir asked.
“So fucking good.”
Ishir’s heart swelled. His mind quieted. Something strange and sweet came over him, like a darkness that was smooth and soft.
He had no idea how long he was suspended there, limbs filled with pleasure, head hazy and calm.
He blinked when Zee finally released him. It took him a moment to be able to focus on his best friend’s face, but the sight hit him like a puck to the face.
Zee looked…awed.
“Can you stand up?” Zee asked.
A thread of fear cracked through Ishir. Was Zee going to send him away? “Yeah,” he murmured nonetheless.
“Let’s go to bed.”
Ishir allowed himself to be heaved onto his feet, both of them kicking their sweats and boxers away. The relief that washed through him as he was guided towards Zee’s bedroom almost made his knees buckle, but they managed to make it to Zee’s bed in one piece.
Fuck, the sheets smelt divine, Zee everywhere.
Ishir was still hard, shaking as Zee wrapped around him from behind. It took a long time for his body to relax, dick softening eventually.
“Damn,” Zee whispered. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Ishir huffed a laugh. “Practice.”
“Fucking impressive. Good game, man.”
Just like that, they were on familiar ground. Or they would be if they ignored the way they were cuddling. “Thanks. I’ll take the W.” Ishir’s voice was shot, throat still aching.
Zee must have liked it, hand rubbing Ishir’s abs.
“Zee…” Ishir warned, starting to get hard again. He was on a fucking hair-trigger.
“Sorry,” Zee said without actually stopping.
Ishir sighed, resigning himself to being turned-on until he scored a goal.
He couldn’t even begin to think about what would happen then. Would Zee choose someone else for him? Tell him what to do and leave him to it?
The haziness that had overtaken his mind eventually dissipated, replaced with the bitterness of reality.
What the fuck were they even doing?
Ishir thought about getting up. Making an excuse and taking a shower, brushing the taste of Zee from his mouth.
The idea was even more depressing than staying.
