Page 32 of Contested

Sebastian settled between his spread legs. The television threw blue light across his glasses when he glanced up. His eyes stayed there, pinning Marcos to the couch without a word.

Hands slid up the inside of his thighs, slow and deliberate enough to make his legs tense under them. The touch moved over the fabric first, with barely any pressure. He was already hard, cock straining against his shorts, the ache of it made worse by the way Sebastian acted like he had all the time in the world.

His fingers reached the waistband and hooked there.

Then stopped.

Marcos let out a rough breath, his hips shifting. Sebastian’s mouth turned up. He leaned closer, breath warm through the fabric, and Marcos’ cock twitched hard enough for both of them to notice. Sebastian’s gaze dropped, smug and focused, before his fingers dipped beneath the waistband.

Marcos’ head tipped back against the couch as his shorts and underwear started sliding down. The other hand pushed his singlet up, knuckles brushing over his stomach, fingers trailing lower through the hair beneath his navel. Cool apartment air hit his skin, and he swallowed around the sound trying to work its way out of him.

The fabric caught, and Sebastian tugged again, firmer this time, and Marcos’ cock came free, heavy and leaking against his stomach.

His hips lifted, but Sebastian didn’t hurry. He pulled the fabric the rest of the way down, past Marcos’ knees, letting it fall away before his hand returned to Marcos’ thigh. His fingers moved up slowly, then wrapped around the base of the cock.

He stroked Marcos once, thumb dragging over the slick head before easing the foreskin back. Pleasure ran through Marcos, and his mouth opened around a moan.

Sebastian leaned closer. Warm breath touched the head of Marcos’ cock, and he watched Sebastian’s mouth, seeing his tongue come out and touch him lightly underneath first, dragging upward in a slow line that made his thighs tense.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out before Marcos could hold it back.

Sebastian hummed. The vibration was barely there, but Marcos still felt it. His toes curled against the floor, and his hips tried to follow Sebastian’s mouth before he had even taken him in properly.

Then his lips closed around the head. His tongue slid across the underside of the cock. Marcos wanted to thrust, but Sebastian’s hand stayed firm at the base, while his mouth worked over the tip.

His tongue circled the head each time he pulled back, his hand moved in a steady rhythm where his mouth didn’t reach. Marcos looked down and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Sebastian glanced up through his lashes at the same time, lips stretched around him, glasses sitting slightly low on his nose.

Marcos’ hips jerked.

Sebastian pulled off just enough to breathe, mouth wet, lips shining, then went back down with a smirk. This time, he took more of him, slow and steady, until Marcos felt the tight heat of his throat.

Sebastian didn’t pull away. He hummed again. The vibration went straight through Marcos, and his grip tightened.

“Fuck.” The word came out rougher this time, followed by a ragged breath.

Sebastian kept going. His tongue dragged up the shaft each time he rose, circled the tip, then he took him down again. Deeper and faster.

Marcos couldn’t work out what to do with his hands and decided to grab the couch cushions. The whole room had narrowed to Sebastian’s mouth and the slick pull of his lips, the wet pressure of his tongue, the tight drag of his throat when he took Marcos all the way down.

Every part of Marcos seemed to gather at the same point, pleasure building too fast.

Marcos looked down again. Sebastian’s nose pressed into him, his eyes half-lidded behind his glasses, and the sight was enough to push Marcos right to the edge.

“I’m gonna come,” Marcos moaned.

Sebastian answered by going faster.

Marcos’ hands unclenched from the couch and found the back of Sebastian’s head, fingers tangling in the hair.

“Dios,” Marcos whimpered as his body arched and balls pulled tight.

His cock pulsed as hot ropes shot down Sebastian’s throat, and he kept Sebastian’s head held down at the base of his cock until every last drop was spent.

Marcos’ hands slipped from Sebastian’s hair, and slowly Sebastian worked his way up the shaft until the head slipped from his lips and slapped against Marcos’ body.

The high went with it.

Not all at once. Just the edges first, where his hands were suddenly too aware of themselves, open and useless on the couch. Then his thighs, still spread. Then the cool air on his skin. Then his cock, exposed and wet against his stomach. His singlet bunched up. His shorts and underwear useless on the floor. Sebastian kneeling between his legs with wet lips and his glasses crooked.