Chapter Twelve
Back at thehouse, hot cocoa was in order, and then came a long sucking practice in front of the TV. For his part, Devon kept his eyes on the screen, trying to concentrate as various images passed by and storylines played out, but all he could really think about was the man at his feet, the mouth on his cock, and the long, agonizing“practice”Carl was indulging in.
“What’s going on now?” Carl said, pulling off to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and quizzing Devon about the show. It was a game he’d come up with on the way home. Devon had to watch, reporting to Carl what was happening while Carl worked on his cock-sucking skills. It was devastatingly difficult, and Devon was on the verge of just bullshitting an answer when his brain coughed up an explanation of some of the visuals he’d taken in while trying not to push his dick into Carl’s throat.
“Um, Snow White is discovering that, uh, the long-haired girl is her daughter? But all grown? And, goddammit, Carl, holy fuck,” he whispered as his cock was engulfed in wet heat again. “I have to come soon.”
But Carl just hummed and tried to take Devon in deeper. He wasn’t trying to deep throat, but he was definitely working on reducing his gag reflex, and, so far, he was succeeding, taking Devon in past his soft palate and to the very top of his throat.
“Snow is crying,” Devon squeezed out. “She’s—fuck, fuck. Damn. Unf.”
Carl pulled off again. “Why’s she crying?”
“The baby…the baby…” He moaned as Carl worked his shaft. “I quit. You win.”
“There’s no winner like that,” Carl said. “If you quit, then I quit. So just losers all around.”
Devon gritted his teeth. “You love orgasm denial.”
“It’s my favorite thing to watch in porn,” Carl agreed, putting out his tongue to lick the head of Devon’s cock. “How about you?”
“I never cared one way or another before.”
“Now?”
“Now I want to come, for fuck’s sake.”
Carl laughed, his eyes glittering. “Should have envisioned me letting you come when we cast that spell earlier today.”
“Should never have punched your v-card if this is how you’re going to be,” Devon muttered as Carl swirled his tongue over and around his slit. “Should have left you unpunched.”
“My magic’s too strong,” Carl whispered. “Plus you like it.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” Carl argued. “Wait and see. You’ll love it.”
Devon’s nipples ached and he plucked them while gazing at where Carl was spitting on his fingers, promising more.
“What’s happening now?” Carl asked.
Devon flitted his gaze to the screen. “The episodes over. A new one is starting.”
“Nice,” Carl said. “I’ve kept you hard for forty-five minutes then.”
Devon squirmed. “It’s long enough.”
“Mm-hm, I’ll decide.” Carl had slipped lower, and he tapped the spit-wet pads of his fingers against Devon’s hole. “Bear down for me.”
Carl had learned all too well the last few days, and now Devon was the one being told what to do, how to open up, and when he’d get to come. It was absurd, and yet here they were.
Devon moaned as Carl’s finger slid into him, a little rough with only spit to lubricate, but then so fucking good as Carl pushed against his prostate. “Yessss,” Devon slurred. “Fuck, yessss.”
“I knew you liked it,” Carl said, smugly.
Devon didn’t answer, his eyes rolling up as Carl worked his prostate and went back to sucking his cock. The game seemed to be over, though, because no more questions came his way about the show and what was happening on it, but the orgasm didn’t seem to be any closer, either.
Devon’s legs shook, and his stomach muscles jumped, but that final barrier to climax just couldn’t be breached. He started to feel desperate and a little scared. He’d never been unable to come before. He’d never been so shot out that he was empty, or whatever was going on with him now.
