Transfixed, I reach down, unbuttoning and unzipping slowly before I reach inside his boxers to caress his velvety cock. An aroused note hums in my throat. Mark’s hand runs along my side in a warm caress, and I noticedefeatedappear across the screen.
“You died,” I murmur.
“Someone put their hand down my trousers,” Mark explains, his voice low. Within the confines of his clothes, I don’t have much room to manoeuvre, so I stroke Mark’s cock in a slow drag. The hand on my side stops its caress and tightens, fingers digging into me. He hums and now there’s no room for anything inside his pants.
“It’s amazing you can fit into clothes with this,” I say, relishing how big he is against my palm.
Mark releases a choked groan. His hips sway up, seeking contact. I can hear his heart beating quicker with my ear to his chest.
“Are you sure nobody is coming home?” I ask.
“Positive,” he says, breathless. “And we’d hear them coming in if they did.”
Satisfied with that answer, I guide Mark’s cock out of his trousers. I have room to stroke him smoothly now, though I still take my time. I squeeze the beading juices from his tip and Mark groans. My eyes are half-lidded as I stare at the glisten of beaded pre-come on his swollen head. I lick my lips. I shuffle down and grasp Mark’s cock to hold it in place as I wrap my lips around his tip, and glide my mouth down his head, carefully guiding back his foreskin, and then suck gently on the way back.
Mark stops breathing.
His skin is surprisingly soft. My lips glide over him easily, the surface slick with pre-come and saliva. Mark’s fingers slip into my hair, kneading and massaging as I concentrate. I can’t get all of him into my mouth—not a hope—but I do my best with what I can reach. Mark moans so I can’t be doing too bad a job.
I squirm, my trousers uncomfortably tight, and I slide my hand down to cup Mark’s balls. They’re weighty, soft, and warm as I toy with them, squeezing gently and fondling him.
“Kyle,” Mark groans.
I think he’s doing his best not to thrust his hips. They keep rolling up toward me, only to stop mid-movement. He does that several times, then tugs at my hair.
“I’m gonna come,” Mark warns me.
His cock twitches. I glide my hand over his shaft, pumping his length as I detach and slide my lips off his cock with a hard suck. Mark shudders. His back arches off the mattress as he releases a loud groan, and his cock twitches erratically in my hand.
I close my eyes, a note of surprise leaving my throat as hot release lands on my cheek. I’m a mess as I squeeze the final drop out of Mark.
“Stay still,” Mark says, his voice thick. He reaches into one of the drawers on the bedside table and then sits up to clean me with tissue.
“How was that?” I ask, my mind cooling. I try not to sound too pleased, but I am. Proud that even though I lack experience, I was able to make him come. I’ve watched videos of blowjobs in the past, and I understand now why the one giving seems to be enjoying himself so much, even though he’s not the one being touched.
Mark grumbles, moving me so that he can press kisses against my now-cleaned temple. “Really good,” he says gruffly. “I got some in your hair, though.”
I hum. “It’s okay.”
The sound of the doorbell ringing echoes through the apartment.
Mark sighs. “Pizza.”
I sit up, freeing Mark to stand. “Two seconds,” he says. He fixes his clothes as he strides to the door. I gather up all the tissues and deposit them into a dustbin under one of the desks and get more tissue to try to dry my hair. I’m doing that when Mark returns. He has a damp washcloth, and he carefully pats down my hair with it. It’s wet, but hopefully, it will dry clean.
Mark’s cheeks have colour in them as he cleans me. “We should eat while the pizza is hot.”
I follow him into the kitchen, half-dazed, and sit with him at the dining table. Apparently, the blowjob worked up our appetites because we make short work of the extra-large pizza.
We’re eating the final slices when the front door opens. I glance up, catching Mark’s surprised expression. I’m uneasy as footsteps track down the hall, shoulders creeping up in tension until I see Sebastian’s slight form as he steps out of the hall. Sebastian’s eyes jump to us, not a hint of surprise as he spots me at the table, and then lowers to the pizza.
“Did you save me some?” Sebastian asks, approaching. His expression shows displeasure when he sees the empty box and the last two slices in my and Mark’s hands. I would offer him mine, but it’s half-eaten. Sebastian doesn’t strike me as the type to happily consume a half-eaten slice of pizza.
“You’re back early?” Mark says, the upraised note at the end making the statement into a question.
“A group sat opposite me and wouldn’t shut up,” Sebastian says. He shrugs his bag off, depositing it onto one of the kitchen seats and then sits with us. He levels an unimpressed look on Mark.
Mark raises an eyebrow. “What?”
