Efrain and Cory Ch. 24
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Chapter 24 – Mirror, Spice, Flow
Part I – Fuck-a-thon, Redux
I stood up on the couch and slipped over the back.
A move that didn’t go over so well with the siblings.
“Preston’s jumping on the furniture again!”
“Aren’t you guys too old to tattle?” I taunted. Mom’s melodramatic sigh followed me as I bolted out of the room.
“Why does he get to run in the house?” my little sister whined and my baby brother echoed.
As I raced up the stairs, I heard my step-dad and mom turn Kent and Ellie back to the TV special they’d been watching in an attempt to shut off demands to know why I got to do all the fun stuff. They’d learned over the years that giving reasons such as Preston is ten years older and Preston is an adult wouldn’t work. Redirection was the only method they’d had any success with.
I hit the unmute button on my phone as soon as I got in my room. “Hey, you still there?”
“Yeah.” Indie’s voice sounded even hotter over the phone. Like, instant erection hot. “Did you run or something?”
“Kinda,” I said. Or did he sound hotter because I was just really hard up and thirsty? I leaned against my door. “Had to get away from prying ears.”
“So you ran hard enough to end up panting?” he chuckled. Yeah, really thirsty. Why the fuck else would I get all tingly over a man laughing at his own non-joke.
“I thought you liked hearing me pant.”
“I like making you pant,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
“Is that why you’re calling?” I flopped back on my bed. “You want to make me pant?”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” he answered. The timbre of his voice had pitched low, and blood slammed into my cock with a thud. “When are you heading back to Blacksburg?”
“Like, right now,” I said. “Packing my bags as we speak.” Stroking my cock through my jeans, packing my bags. Same difference.
“I could be.”
He sighed. “I’m still at Laurel’s parents’ place.”
“Ah,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.
“But, I really need to get out of here,” he said.
“Family making you crazy?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s why I never come home without a good excuse for leaving early,” I said.
“Aren’t I always?”
I remember hearing Preston’s knock, and opening the door for him, and inviting him inside. I’m not quite sure, however, when I actually picked him up and pinned him against the door.
One minute, he’s giving me this, I don’t know, look, and the next his arms and legs are wrapped around me while I try to get my tongue far enough into his pretty little mouth to see if he still has his wisdom teeth.
I could worry about this, but the smell, taste, feel of him made it impossible to think rationally. His mouth felt hungrier the more I fed off him, and worrying how we got to this point would take away from my more immediate concerns.
Like how to get him pinned under me.
Moreover, allowing my thoughts to drift from my plan to get him between the sheets would lead to some problems I’d really rather not think about ?? like why Laurel felt like she had to tell me about her and Mike getting married as if I was some fragile fucking piece, or why people felt fucking sorry for me when they shouldn’t, or why I ditched my mom with my best friend’s parents after Thanksgiving dinner for a booty call.
Which would defeat the purpose of the booty call in the first place.
Preston’s legs tightened around my waist and his little whimpers tumbled into my mouth. Holding him up like this didn’t really work for grinding on him or rubbing my hands all over his pert ass, but it was getting the job done for everything else. With his hands in my hair, I forgot to give a fuck about my mom, and Thanksgiving, and Laurel’s little announcement, and the concerned looks I kept getting from my best friends and their relatives. His neck, the skin soft and flush, warmed under my lips.
“Don’t get me wrong, sugar, this is incredibly hot,” he panted, “but don’t you think we’re a little overdressed for this?”
I licked over his Adam’s apple, then trailed kisses up his chin and back to his pouty lips. “You’re always overdressed,” I said before sweeping my tongue into his mouth.
“But, we’re excessively overdressed now,” he said when I let him come up for air.
“You look fine.”
“Yeah?” I said, nibbling his bottom lip.
“Less quipping, more stripping.”
“Wasn’t that a quip?” I chucked against his mouth.
“Bite my ass.”
“Eventually,” I joked, but I did set him down and led him through the house. I had to get him in my room because I actually did want to bite his ass, but he stalled in the living room.
“We should re-christen your couches.”
“And waste a perfectly good bed?” I said. “Although, I suppose if you really escort izmit need living room furniture to get off, I do have those armchairs.”
“Oh, those could be fun!”
We continued back to my room, but I made a mental note to return for the couches.
“Who does your decorating?”
“Womenfolk?” I looked over my shoulder at Indie, who’d finally stopped fussing with the tap now that the tub was nearly full. “Really?”
Indie’s garden tub – this ridiculously large, roughly triangular-shaped thing – took up a corner of the bathroom. The raised platform the tub sat in was almost like a stage, and added enough height that steps were required to get in. The ample space between the edge of the tub and the wall on all sides had been filled with more pillar candles than a Catholic prayer altar.
When I joked about him taking candle-lit baths, he said that they only looked like they’ve been used because they’re flameless and that’s what they’re supposed to look like. He swore up and down that the only time he’d ever touched them was when he had to dust. I knew he had to be lying, then. Seriously, what normal twenty-something male, gay or straight, dusts? Then he started switching on the candles, mainly because he’d actually never used them before (allegedly) and didn’t know if they even had batteries. Indie had dimmed the lights (who puts a dimmer switch in a bathroom?), to show off the full effect. And you can’t not take a candle-lit bath, especially when the tub is that impressive.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling me between his legs and back against his chest. I relaxed into him. “My step-mom convinced my dad that the best way to furnish the place was to give me their old stuff.”
“Your furniture really doesn’t look that old,” I remarked.
“It’s not,” he said. “Claire just wanted an excuse to buy new shit.”
“At least she has good taste. Your bedroom is nice.”
“Thank my mom and Laurel for that. They had a little ‘Cheer the fuck up, Indie’ day on Dad’s dime.”
“Oh?” I looked up at Indie as he scrubbed his hand over his face.
“I was pretty pathetic after Jameson,” he said, affecting a tone of detached indifference that rang a little false. “I was sleeping on the couch because I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in our old room ever since I caught him fucking some chick in my bed.”
“Yeah, bitch was in her second trimester.”
“Yup. And not the first time.”
“Fucker’s sperm is so potent, even I’ve had pregnancy scares!”
“Okay, setting aside for a moment that men can’t get pregnant,” I said, “you’re an exclusive top. Weren’t you the one doing the breeding?”
“Verse, actually,” he said and arched his brow suggestively. “You just assumed I was an exclusive top.”
“What? Are you having a hard time imagining me taking a cock?”
“I have no problem at all imagining you taking a cock,” I said, adding my own suggestive brow arch. “Imagining it right now, in fact.”
The mental image of Indie’s lean body bent over, long legs spread wide, while he whimpered and begged to have his ass pounded. Holy. Ever. Living. Fuck. To say that was hot would be an understatement.
It brought “dick-ception” to a whole other level.
The only thing not hot about it, of course, was the knowledge that since I was only the second person he’d slept with, it had been that toady bastard Jameson’s dick that he’d been riding.
So, I did the only reasonable thing and substituted Efrain for Jameson, and BAM! next wank’s masturbation fantasy.
“You can stop now,” he said.
“What?” I said innocently, while images of Wolfie breeding Iceman danced in my head.
“Your cock is suspiciously hard.” Indie’s eyes narrowed, but I could still see a poorly suppressed grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m naked. In a tub. With a man. Who also happens to be naked and, I might add, just fucked my delicious ass into the mattress all of half an hour ago.” I gestured down at my dick, making it jump for maximum effect. “How is this suspicious?”
He rolled his eyes, and I pretended not to notice the suspicious length hardening against my back.
“So, sleeping on the couch?” I prompted.
“Laurel and Mom found out about the couch and got all weepy.” His fingers danced along my thighs under the bathwater (seemed he wasn’t going to let our aroused state go to waste). “Next thing I knew, I’m whipping out my credit card at Bed Bath & Beyond for linens for my new bed.”
“So, are they also to blame for the bathroom?”
“What’s wrong with the bath stuff?” he asked.
“Not the bath stuff,” I said. I slipped away from him toward the back corner of the tub, where the two mirrors that ran from the top of the platform to the ceiling along the sides of the tub joined together. There had to be a good two or so feet between me and that corner. The light from izmit escort bayan the flameless candles intensified as it reflected off the surface. “I’m talking about the mirrors.”
I leaned against the edge on my forearms and looked at myself from the many angles created. Another row of mirrors lined the wall above the two-sink vanity on the opposite side of the room. The vanity was also at an angle, parallel to the platform, so I was even able to see myself from behind. I caught Indie silently chuckling at my experimental butt wiggling.
“Previous owner, I think,” he said, turning off the water now that the tub was full. “Those were here when Dad bought the house. I didn’t really feel like dealing with two bigass mirrors, so they stayed. Why?”
“Lots of mirrors, fuckton of candles, and a big as fuck tub on a fucking stage.” I propped my chin up on my fist. “You’re a couple wine glasses and a smooth jam short of an R&B music video.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I suppose,” I conceded. “Good thing they ran out of mirrors before they got to the ceiling.”
“Indeed. I much prefer the skylights,” he said. “Although, the sunlight is a bitch when you’re hungover.”
“I can imagine.”
“But, you forgot something.”
I caught his expression in the mirror. I had no idea what he was talking about, but the look in his eyes said I was definitely going to like it.
“What did I forget?” he asked.
I hit the button next to the faucet and the water started churning. Preston quivered as water pumped directly over his cock.
“Someone likes water jets.”
“Bastard,” he said, perhaps a little breathier than he intended. “You knew that was there.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “I don’t see you moving away, though.” If anything, he seemed to be looking for the best angle at which to enjoy that particular jet. I watched him wiggle around until he suddenly gasped and went completely still. His hands fisted on the edge of the tub and his breath came in shuddering pants. I met his honey ale colored eyes through the reflection in the mirror as he licked his lips. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“It’s not enough to make me cum,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “But, it definitely feels good.”
I admired Preston’s preternatural knowledge of his own body. He understood how best to pleasure himself, revelled in doing so with hedonistic abandon, yet still made me party to his gratification. Getting himself off on a well-placed water jet seemed self-centered and masturbatory, but there was an element of performance to it, as if he was doing this as much for my benefit as his own. I was pretty sure, though, that he wasn’t fully aware of the little thrusts his hips made against the current.
I shifted over to kneel behind him. The graceful lines of his back rose from the churning water and I couldn’t help thinking about the graceful lines hidden below. Water-slick skin reflected the dim light, giving his body a wet sheen. A very pretty distraction. Intoxicating enough that I forgot all about the things I didn’t want to think of, and even forgot that I could think to begin with. I stroked over his legs, beginning at his ankles and circling back over his hips, and watched his reactions through the mirrors. Goosebumps tightened his skin and pebbled his small nipples; a little quiver accented his breathing.
Preston leaned back up, pressing his back to my chest, and pulled my head down for a kiss. My fingertips continued to work over his body while the water swirled around our legs. Judging by the way the water moved against my thighs and the moaning that could only partially be attributed to my touch, he was still working that water jet for all its worth.
I grabbed his hands and planted them on the side of the tub in front of him, leaning him forward. Our eyes met again through the mirror while my mouth nipped the curve of his neck before trailing kisses down his spine. He let me shift him around until I had his hips lifted just enough out of the water to get at his sweet little ass. Preston did, however, whine that he was no longer in-line with the water jet.
“Here.” I pulled one hand down toward the jet and showed him how to adjust it. After a few moments of fumbling, Preston whimpered out a trembly little moan and I figured he’d found the right angle again. While he got reacquainted with the jet of hot water on his dick, I moved back to the faucet to grab the condoms and lube I’d brought in with me.
You can’t take a candle-lit bath in a tub like this and not try to fuck in it.
Since I knew he’d been watching my movements through the mirror, I made a show of pouring the lube over him, holding the bottle high and letting dribble down. He shivered as my fingers stroked his tight hole, slicking up the digits before slowly easing my middle finger into him. His hips bucked and he cried out for more. Fuck, if it had occurred to me how gratifying it would be to watch Preston izmit sınırsız escort from all the angles afforded by the mirrors, I would have talked him into the tub sooner. I worked in a second finger, alternating between thrusting and tapping into his sweet spots. Candlelight flickered over the shifting muscles of his back as he rolled his hips onto my fingers.
“Damn, baby,” I leaned back over him and nibbled his earlobe. “You’d think I was hurting you.”
“Using my own words against me?” he panted. His eyes met mine in silent challenge through the mirror.
“No, just your body.” I flipped my hand over, palm-side down, and stroked over his prostate.
“Oh, fuck!” he hissed and arched his back against my hand. I drove him on, drawing my fingers over the spot over and over, and his voice climbed higher
“I’m just using your words to rub it in,” I murmured.
He reached back to pull me in for a kiss, still moaning and writhing. “So, when do we get to the part where you use your dick?”
Rather than give him a verbal response, I rotated my fingers a little and attacked him from another angle. Preston slumped over in a quivering mess of babbles and pleas that essentially translated to, “I would greatly appreciate it if you would kindly put your dick in my ass, Mr. Norman.”
I picked up the condom and tore into the package with my teeth. I know you’re not supposed to use your teeth to open condoms, but I couldn’t stop thrusting my fingers in and out of him. Slipping on the condom and lubing myself up with just the one hand was a bit tricky, but was worth the reaction I got when I slid out my fingers and immediately pressed my head against his entrance.
“God, yes!” he whined as my head pushed past his inner ring.
“More?” I asked and he whimpered assent. I planted my fists on either side of him, where he’d bent over the edge of the tub with his cheek pressed to the cool tile platform, and slid my achingly hard cock deeper. The deeper I inched, the louder and less coherent he became. I watched Preston’s face through the mirrors, ecstasy mounting on his flush features. His eyes opened and met mine, holding my gaze almost defiantly, as I pulled back to the tip and thrust home.
He tightened around me, and I was the first to break eye contact. I groaned while he adjusted to my dick filling him and I tried every trick I could think of so I wouldn’t cum just from the feel of him wrapped around me.
“Need?” I kissed over his quivering shoulders while he struggled with complete sentences. For some perverse reason, the skin at the top of his spine brought to mind images of lions fucking on nature programs. I recalled something about him commanding me to bite his ass, and an even more perverse thought struck. I couldn’t quite reach his ass from this position, so I set my teeth on his neck, as if biting and holding him by the scruff. Preston’s pleased moan cut off in a squeak when I applied some pressure.
I pulled back my hips and thrust into him slowly, but he still hadn’t been able to draw air into his lungs. His muscles contracted hard around me and his hips bucked into mine. I ground my dick into his trembling ass before pulling back and giving him another agonizingly long and slow thrust. He managed to make his lungs function again by the time I bottomed out in him.
“Indie,” he gasped. A questioning of intent, a plea for mercy, a call for more. So much loaded into two breathless syllables. I released his neck, licked over the faint marks I’d left, and thrust again. Once more, he called my name just a little bit louder, and I thrust into him just a little bit harder. Our call and response built. His intensifying vocalization – my name, barely-coherent begging, wordless cries – matched to my surging hips. This vigorous fucking sloshed the already churning water over the sides of the tub, onto the platform and eventually on the floor surrounding the tub.
I leaned back up and watched my dick thrusting in and out of him. When I looked up to observe from the different angles created by the mirrors, I caught him watching. Our eyes chased across the reflections. He seemed to spasm and tighten when I found him; when he found me, I felt an answering throb. The ten-gauge captive bead ring in my perineum countered the pull of my balls as they drew closer to my shaft, and I think we both recognized the end looming. He braced himself against the edge of the tub with one hand while grabbing for his cock with the other just as I adjusted my hold on his hips.
My hands pulled him into my thrusts, slapping his ass hard against my hips over and over as I pounded into him. I had no idea if the water jet was still doing anything for him, or if it had been forgotten in the blur of his hand working his cock. My reserved grunts and groans fell into loud, uncontrolled moans only to be drowned out by Preston screaming my name, the drawn out syllables cutting off with a series of random vowels, as the climax crashed down on us. I exploded into the condom, thrusting wildly while he spent himself in the water until we were too sensitive to move. He collapsed against the side of the tub after I pulled out of him and removed the condom.
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