For the fans, p.17
For The Fans, page 17
The air around us is awkward as fuck, an uncomfortable sort of heat surrounding our stiff bodies on the couch. We’re both just watching the video and leisurely jerking ourselves off, though it seems obvious that neither of us is paying as much attention to the porn as we are to the strained mood we’re sharing.
The video ends and Kyran reaches forward, pressing play on the next thing that pops up. At first, it seems like just another video of two girls making out and rubbing each other’s pussies. But then a guy steps into the screen, presenting a large, erect dick for them both to suck on gleefully.
My eyes subtly slink to Kyran, watching as he loses available room inside his pants. He peeks at me for a second, cheeks flushing all pink while he squirms.
“You’re gonna have to take it out eventually.” I recline on the couch, jerking myself slowly.
His eyes drop to my dick briefly before coming up to mine. “Why? Because you’re desperate to get a peek?”
“No, but they are…” I nod toward the camera.
“Fuck you…” he breathes.
“Think of the money, Kyran…” I tug even more of my cock out.
He can’t seem to stop himself from looking at my dick, which is spreading a tight burn from my stomach up my chest.
“Don’t be boring,” I goad, humping up to my hand.
He bites his lip, checking the laptop again before he finally gives up and pulls his dick out, unrushed, like it’s supposed to be some big reveal.
To be honest, it kind of is. I really don’t want to give him the satisfaction at all, but even with only a few inches exposed, I can tell his dick is generous in size. His hand moves up and down on the shaft, skin sliding at the tip to expose a pink head.
My eyes widen. “You’re uncut?”
His face springs in my direction, blushed heat decorating him as he grumbles, “Yea. So?”
I shake my head to dampen my surprise. “Nothing, it’s just… I’ve never seen…”
My voice trails, and my eyes drop to the fascinating appendage, observing it.
Wow… Interesting.
“You look at a lot of dicks?” He calls me out, almost aggressively.
My gaze returns to his as mild embarrassment warms my cheeks. “No.”
His throat dips. Then he shoves his pants down another inch, revealing more of his cock. Oh… kay. That is quite long… and thick.
“I heard it’s more, like… sensitive,” I rasp, ignoring the fact that my own cock is growing harder and harder in my hand. “Is that true?”
“How would I know?” His words come out breathy. “I have no frame of reference…”
“Right…” I chuckle awkwardly, swallowing a mouthful of saliva.
I’m trying to focus on the video, but it’s nowhere near as captivating as what’s happening a couple feet away, and I hate it, but I can’t deny that watching his strong hand and shapely fingers sloping up and down is sort of hypnotizing me. The way the skin pulls back every time it goes down, exposing the shiny pink tip, is like…
Why am I so intrigued by his dick? I didn’t think I liked dick at all, especially not one attached to my jock asshole of a stepbrother.
But it isn’t until the video on the screen ends that I realize Kyran isn’t watching it either. He’s looking at my dick the same way I’m looking at his, and it’s as confusing as it is electrifying.
I’m as hard as stone now, pumping into my fist at a steadier pace that I think he’s trying to match. We’re both struggling to keep our breaths in check, but it’s the only sound in the room and it starts to echo as they grow louder.
I don’t know how it happened, but the space between us has shrunk. I think I might be leaning in closer to him, and I don’t want to be, because if he notices, he’ll probably stop to yell at me.
Kyran’s head tips back on the couch, eyes closing as he works his cock in his hand. And I’m so busy gawking that I also don’t realize he’s leaning in closer… Until I feel his arm on mine.
“Just do it…” he whispers.
“Do what?” My voice comes out equally soft and throaty.
“We both know this is where it’s headed, so just…” He stops to swallow. “Just do it.”
His chest moves with unsteady flutters as he suddenly lets go of his cock, leaving it resting on his abs, waiting for attention.
I bite my lip. I’m sure the fans would love to see me…
I shake my head. “Only if you do it, too.”
His eyes snap open, and he peers at me. “Fuck that.”
“Then no dice.” I shrug, releasing my cock too. “This isn’t one-sided, superstar. All or nothing.”
His eyes are hooded, the gleam in them more furious than anything. But still, I think I see a tiny twinge of curiosity, as confirmed when he glances down at my dick.
Sucking in a breath, he mumbles, “This is just for the fans… right?” His eyes come back to mine, and I nod.
“For the fans.”
Reaching over hesitantly, he curls his fingers around my dick. And the sensation of contact, of his calloused hand on my sensitive flesh, prompts a tiny sound from within my throat.
“Don’t make that noise,” he growls, gripping my cock in a chokehold. He should know that it actually feels awesome, but I’m really trying to downplay it.
“I can’t… help it,” I croak. “Your hands are rough.”
“Shut up and let’s get this over with,” he hisses, moving his hand slowly up my shaft, then back down.
Oh God, fuck me, it feels really fucking good. I don’t understand why… It’s just a hand. A rough one, without any lube. In theory, it shouldn’t feel good. But it does. It feels awesome.
Sliding my left hand beneath his arm, I grab his dick, and this time, he makes a noise.
“See?” I stroke slowly. “It feels—”
“No, it doesn’t.” His voice shivers through the words. “It’s just because your hands are soft… Like a girl’s.”
“Whatever you say.” I give his dick some gentle tugs, stuffing my fingers down into his pants to get it all.
Turns out only about half of it is exposed, which means it’s even bigger than I thought it was. I’m not jealous, though… His is pretty much the same length as mine, except for his foreskin advantage.
The mutual jerking continues at a leisurely pace, and as much as I’m trying to fight it, his hand pulling uncoordinatedly on me feels exceptionally good. We’re both leaned back, side-by-side, his eyes closed and jaw straining while I can’t keep my wide gaze off what my hand is doing.
This is insane. I’ve never touched a dick that wasn’t my own before. I can’t believe I’m doing this, and what’s more, I can’t believe that I think just doing it is tightening up my balls even more than the feeling of him stroking me.
“Kyran…” I whisper, my eyes gliding up to his face where it rests, inches from mine.
“What?” He gasps, lips quivering when he speaks. His eyes are screwed shut, like he’s desperately trying to imagine he’s anywhere else.
“Does this feel good?” I hum, using my index and middle fingers to circle his tip and push the skin down.
“N-no…” he whimpers, then bites his lip.
My mouth is overflowing with saliva, pulse pounding in my skull while I blink at his face. “Do you want me to stop…?”
His hips lift ever-so-slightly, seeking out my hand as mine angle toward him, our thighs pressing together.
“Uhh… um…” He fumbles for words, the sounds of his panting lulling me into a trance.
“I won’t…” I tell him, hoarsely, surrendering to the sensation of his timid strokes while I play with his cock in a way that he obviously likes but refuses to admit it.
“Stop… t-talking, Avi…” he groans.
The way my name rolls off his tongue sounds different right now than any other time he’s said it. It’s softer, breathier, yes, but also with a gasp of lust. Like his tone is giving away more than his words ever would.
Something about it sparks a wild need inside me; a need to chase and capture it. To prove to him that he likes this, despite how much he’s fighting it.
“Harder,” I demand on a breath. And to my surprise, he obeys, stroking my dick harder, pulling it in his direction with my hips slanted toward him. Riding the high of him doing what I say, I rumble, “Move your pants down more.”
And he does. He uses his left hand to shove the waist down farther, wiggling himself free. Now both of our dicks are fully out, and I guess the curiosity is too much for him to ignore because his eyes creep open, his head tilting to peer down and watch his hand pump my cock.
When his lidded gaze slides back up to my face, it seems to accentuate how we are. And I can’t even help it. Like magnets, my eyes drop to his mouth, for just a split second. They pop back up quick, locking on darkened gold and green before falling once more to his moist and shivering lips.
Subtlety has apparently flown right out the window.
“Don’t…” he growls.
“Don’t what?” I swipe my thumb over some slick wetness at the tip of his cock.
His chest shudders, and he groans, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
I can taste the cinnamon from his breath, we’re so close. “What am I thinking about…?”
His face inches in closer, until our noses almost bump. “Do not fucking kiss me…”
It sounds like a threat, but the way his words are trembling, the way his entire body feels tense and coiled… it seems almost like a dare.
Like he wants me to defy him, in the way that only I do.
“Why would I kiss you?” My chest is heaving, eyes struggling to stay open from the confounding pleasure of him working my cock rough and fast in his fist.
“Just… d-dont,” he stutters on a breath. And then he whispers, so low I barely even hear it. “Please.”
It winds me the fuck up. I have no idea why… I don’t understand it, but something about his soft, rumbly little plea has my balls drawn so taut, I’m ready to erupt. My hand matches the tempo of his, and his mine. Even going lefty, I’m somehow just lost in this drive, pumping him up and down while both of our hips chase the friction in tandem.
I’m dizzy, a fog of desire swallowing me up and controlling my movements as my right hand crosses over, sliding up his chest. He snarls in protest, but it turns into a needy hum as my fingers graze his throat, then his jaw.
And I hold his face still before mine, whispering over his hot mouth, “I don’t have to.”
For all the anger, resentment, and animosity he’s been pushing forth up until now, I can feel him sloping into me, defying himself on purpose, and it drives me fucking crazy. My balls are throbbing, aching with the need to come, the burn of him jerking me wild, pulling me right up to the edge.
Kyran’s fingers on his right hand graze my nuts, tickling them each time he goes down as his left hand flies to my shirt, gripping it in his fist. I can’t tell if he’s trying to push me away or pull me closer. I’m not even sure he knows, but the point is that we’re practically on top of each other now, warring with the speed of voraciously beating each other off into a frenzy.
“You gonna come for me?” I gasp over his mouth, my fingers sliding aggressively into his hair.
He nods fast, but doesn’t speak, biting back whimpers by chewing on his lower lip.
“Tell me…” I rasp, holding off my own orgasm because I don’t want this to stop yet.
“Fuck off…” he breathes, then groans, lashes fluttering.
My hand slows. “Maybe I should stop then…”
“No, don’t,” he pleads. “I’m… I’m gonna…”
“Gonna what?” My fingers thread into his soft hair.
I’m fucking gone right now… Abandoned all rationale and everything I thought I knew before this moment. I’m seconds from coming apart in his rough hand, rocking into his heat and his stubborn need.
“I’m gonna… come,” he croaks, hauling me closer by my shirt until I’m hovering over him, our hands bumping together in the furious chase. The swollen tips of our cocks brush and a shuddering cry brings hoarse words from his lips. “Fuck… Fuck you, Avi… fuck you, I’m gonna fucking come for you.”
“God, I’m gonna fucking come,” I rumble, pressing my hips down so that our cocks are together and we’re fucking writhing and grinding them frantically. “Come with me.”
“I’m coming with you…” he whispers, then whines.
Then gasps. Then groans out the sexiest fucking noise my ears have ever heard as hot cum starts spilling out of him, all over me.
My hand, his hand, his dick, my dick. It’s shooting everywhere, soaking us and drawing out my own.
Head whirling off my body, my stomach clenches, and I lurch forward, biting down on his lower lip while my dick throbs and pulses cum all over us.
Our hips don’t stop moving, rippling into one another while we ride it out, coming fucking everywhere, our dicks slipping and sliding together. My fierce chewing on his lip turns to a sweet suction, foreheads together, heavy panting echoing off every surface of the room.
It’s completely fucking insane. The craziest, hottest, most unexpected thing that’s ever happened in the history of anything.
But it fizzles out quick, as it tends to.
As soon as the orgasm high has worn off, we’re not lost in the moment anymore. Reality whacks us both like a blunt object, and we realize what we’re doing. How far of a stretch this is from where we started only a few minutes earlier.
“Fuck…” Kyran grunts, releasing his grip on my shirt, and my dick, tumbling back on the couch to get away from me.
I clear my throat and back up too, shaking my head. Shaking off the daze.
Get up. Get up and shut off the camera.
Holy fuck, the camera.
Stumbling to my feet, I rush to turn it off before it records him freaking out and I have to edit him attacking me out of the video. Once it’s off, I let out a breath, yanking my pants up. There’s cum all over me. I would have no idea whose it even is.
That was… What the fuck??
That’s what it was. It was what the fuck.
“Um… You can,” I start, stopping to clear my throat because I’m way too raspy. “The bathroom is uh… there.” I somehow manage to point in its direction.
Kyran’s eyes are awfully wide for someone who just came in explosive fashion. But to my surprise, he doesn’t freak the fuck out, scream, or lunge at me. He simply nods and slinks off the couch, hauling his pants up as he staggers toward the bathroom.
He’s in there for a long time. More than fifteen minutes, while I’m cleaning up, making sure there’s no cum on the couch, which there definitely is. Just a little, and I manage to get to it with dish soap fast enough that hopefully it won’t leave an obvious stain.
By the time he eventually comes out, I’m sitting on the couch, with Seinfeld back on like nothing happened. Trying to pretend everything is normal… Like it’s just business, which is what we agreed.
Even though my stomach is flipping and flopping in a way that feels very unprofessional.
Across the room, Kyran is hovering, and when my eyes subtly peer in his direction, he looks completely put back together. No longer rumpled, hair brushed back into place.
“So I’m…” he starts, but his words get caught in his throat, and he gives up, stomping toward the door.
“I’ll text you about the...” But he’s gone before I can even sigh out the word, “Money.”
My face falls into my hands and I rub my eyes hard. “What the fuck, man??”
Glancing left, I find Robin, still curled up on the couch in the same spot. She’s been sitting there the whole damn time, which brings a laugh bubbling from within my throat.
“He’s my stepbrother, you know…” I tell her, and she blinks at me, unenthused.
My face slants toward the door, and I shake my head.
My fucking stepbrother… with whom I now share a very confusing, very complicated little secret.
TheBlarneyBone: So peachy! I wanna lick ur ass...... then pummel that peach pie hole
MeatMan: Make me your chia pet and smear your seed all over me
Distraction is something I’ve gotten very good at over the years.
A skill I learned to hone when I was just a kid. Enduring stuff that makes me uncomfortable while pretending I’m not is a bit of an art form for yours truly.
The key is forcing yourself to focus on other things. The more uncomfortable you are with the thing you’re avoiding, the more you’ll need to immerse yourself in the distraction.
I think that’s why I’ve always been so good at school. It’s not that I necessarily care about the subjects… Math, science, history… None of it is particularly titillating to me. But it’s something to fixate on; something else to get lost in, like the dirt and the shovel used to bury the thing you don’t want clawing its way to the surface.
The curriculum for undergrad business studies is pretty involved, and it’s good. A lot of my teammates struggle to balance schoolwork and football, what with our rigorous training, game schedules, and how often we have to travel. But for them, sports and partying are their primary focuses, and for me… well, that’s just not enough.
I fill in the gaps with my studies, because I have to.
Keep the mind distracted at all times. Never, ever stop to think. Because thinking is bad.
Thinking leads to remembering… And remembering is the enemy.
The way the light is hitting my books on the coffee table strikes an idea, for another one of my favorite distractions. And I pick up my phone, snapping a picture to post on Instagram.
Knowledge is the antidote to fear.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
#BC #collegelife
Posted, I stare at the screen for a moment as likes start rolling in. My eyes flit to the top, and the notification for unread texts twists my gut.
Tossing my phone down on the table, I go back to my book. Distraction.
My eyes scan the words on the page, not retaining any of them as they all start to blur together. Because that’s the thing about distraction… if the truth is powerful enough, it’ll always manage to shove a hand up through the dirt.
