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I’m trying to keep my cool, but I’m freaking out.
Atlas is on his knees, and my fly is open, my cock so stiff in my pant leg that if he doesn’t whip it out soon, I’m gonna have to adjust.
On the way over to his place, I was on top of the world. Not only did I ace that fucking test, I won against Atlas, something that feels more extraordinary than any stupid grade. All our other bets were the playoffs, and this was our Super Bowl. He was finally going to chicken out, and once he did, no matter what bets we had from that point on, he’d always know I was the true victor between us.
I win, you lose, Atlas McCallister.
But when he pulls back the waistband of my briefs and pushes them down, my cock springs out, and I realize we’ve really gone too far this time.
“So you were just hard ’cause we were wrestling around?” he asks, his suspicious green gaze turning up to me, and for someone who just lost a bet, his mouth is twisted into a real cocky smirk.
Why the hell are my cheeks so warm? What do I have to be embarrassed about? He’s the straight guy with my shaft inches from his mouth.
He studies my cock.
Just stop pretending you’re gonna follow through with this.
He’s gotta back out soon because with my dick hanging in front of him, there’s only one thing left for him to do, and as much as I can’t deny my body wants it, I know this isn’t gonna happen.
He keeps studying me—maybe it’s been a few seconds, but it feels like minutes. I let out a nervous laugh. “See, I figured—”
There’s warmth on my dick. Not his mouth, his fingers. They slide around the base, his thumb cupping the bottom as he positions my cock like he’s about to actually follow through. His face moves toward my hip, and he angles my cock before I feel his warm tongue along the base of my shaft.
Part of me is thinking he’s taking this too far, but another part has to accept that, fuck, he hasn’t been all talk.
His tongue slides up to the head, tasting my flesh, and my cock pulses in his grip.
He snickers. “Looks like I’m off to a pretty good start,” he boasts.
I can’t think of a clever comeback. He clearly knows the effect he’s having on me, and it feels so good, I don’t give a fuck.
He licks back down to where he’s holding my cock at the base, then finds a new route back up the shaft again. When he returns to the head, he lingers, his tongue shifting side to side.
He’s toying with me, torturing me.
The electric charge his subtle movements send through me forces my jaw to drop, and I reach behind me, gripping the arm of the couch, partly to brace myself, partly to dig my nails into the cushioning because the tension he’s leaving me in is unbearable.
I’m waiting for him to make a smart-ass comment. To mock how he’s driving me crazy. Or to finally bow out and reveal this has all been some cruel prank, but then his lips slip around the head, traveling down my shaft.
Fuck.
As he takes me into his mouth, a surge of energy rushes up my body, swirling in my chest, and instinctively, I roll my head back, reveling in the sensation.
I’m so vulnerable and exposed, unable to hide how hungry my body is for this.
He glides back and forth, wetting my dick as he takes it for a test drive.
With his free hand, he grabs the band of my briefs and the side of my pants and pulls them to my ankles, then takes me even deeper into his mouth, like he’s exploring his limits.
When I gaze down at him, he pulls off my dick and glances up at me. I notice some precum trailing from my head to his lips as he smiles, and there’s no denying how pretty his face is…and how pretty it looks with a bit of me lingering on his lip.
Might be one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.
“Didn’t think I was gonna do that, did you?”
“I’m still not sure I believe you’re doing this,” I confess.
“Well, I gotta admit, you taste better than I thought you would.” He licks the precum off his bottom lip, and again, my cock expands in his hold.
