Lick It Up

Peyton arrived the Friday before classes were to start. He lugged his suitcase across the parking lot, down the sidewalk and to the dorm, talking with Chris, Juan and Ye-jun, who came up while he was tugging out his luggage from the back of his car. The dorm was a hive of activity, guys moving about, going from room to room, or heading out to jog, ride bikes or to walk into town for supplies. Peyton strolled down the corridor, losing Chris, then Ye-jun and finally Juan before getting to his door. It was closed and he had to use his key to enter. The room was dark and just as Braxton and he had left it back in early December.

Peyton emptied the suitcase and slid it under his bed. He emptied his backpack and pulled out his schedule. It was only a little after noon and he was going to grab a burger and swing by the bookstore to get his textbooks and a few supplies. Slipping on a jacket, grabbing up keys and cellphone, he made his way out.

Lugging two bags, Peyton returned to find the floor of the dorm even noisier than before. Chris was chasing Joey toward the far end and music blared from several doors as if there was some competition to see who could drown out who. His door was closed and locked, and when he pushed it open, he saw the room was as he left it.

Books stacked on his desk and supplies put away, Peyton stood at the window watching some guys play tag football. He wondered if Braxton was going to arrive today or sometime the next. He knew Braxton lived about three hours away and should be there by now if he had left today.

Picturing that last day when they had sucked each other off in such a rush, he wondered if they would pick up where they left off, or would things progress between them. Could it? He knew what he wanted, and to even consider saying it aloud made his stomach knot up. How could Braxton ever give him more, when what they had done so far had been so hard for him. He pictured Braxton on knees before him, sucking his cock. The sense memory of it aroused him, and he stepped back from the window and removed his clothes, tossing them on his bed. He went into the bathroom and got into the shower, letting the water run hot. He soaped up his body, then toyed with his growing cock until it stuck straight out, hard as rock. Leaning against the tile wall, he stroked slowly, building up his arousal. With eyes closed, he imagined it was Braxton jacking him off. Braxton’s hand, not his own, moving along his cock.

“Miss me?” Braxton whispered.

Peyton opened his eyes, the soft tone causing him not to panic. He saw Braxton leaning against the vanity watching him and he faced him while continuing to stroke his cock.

“You going to get in?” Peyton asked, keeping his voice low and calm.

“Not yet; let me watch you get off,” Braxton replied.

He wants to watch, Peyton realized, and he stood from the wall, slid the glass door open and stroked his cock. He did not care about the water splashing on the floor. He only cared about the eyes watching him. He saw them staring into his own, then scan down his body until focused on his cock, and his hand stroking it.

“Come on, Peyton, let me see you get off,” Braxton uttered as he groped himself.

“Okay, but take off your clothes,” Peyton replied

Peyton stroked his cock while watching Braxton slip off his shirt, jeans, then briefs. Naked, cock half hard, Braxton leaned against the vanity with his hands propped on it and Peyton watched as his cock grew hard without being touched. Only the increase in arousal from watching him jack off. And jack off he did, stroking his cock faster until he was rocking hips back and forth.

“That’s it; jack that dick,” Braxton uttered as his own rose until it stuck straight out. “Jack that fucking dick.”

Peyton wanted to please Braxton. He liked how it aroused him to watch. He stroked faster until he felt it, this surge of release. He held his head up and watched Braxton as he drew closer. Panting through parted lips, he slammed his fist down and came, shooting a thick wad that landed on the floor in front of Braxton. He shuddered with each ejaculation, spraying cum across the floor, then dribbling it down into the shower. He fell back against the tile wall and leaned back. He felt his sex, the masculine nature of it, and he stood still letting Braxton look at him.

Braxton moved into the shower, closing the glass door. He leaned against the end wall opposite the shower head and stroked his cock slowly. Peyton opened his eyes wider, watching the hand go from base to the head.

“Suck me,” Braxton whispered. “Suck me off.”

Peyton moved down in front of Braxton, taking the hard cock in his mouth. He did not toy with it or tease Braxton in any way. He just put his lips around the head and took every inch he could take. Holding tight to each thigh, he worked his mouth back and forth. He pulled back, held the hard cock by its base and dragged his tongue up its length while keeping eyes locked with Braxton. He tongued the head, bore into the slit until Braxton shivered with the manipulation, then he slipped his lips over it and pushed forward again.

Hands held Peyton by the head and Braxton fucked his mouth. He pushed inward and pulled back, over and over to the point of release. Peyton felt the cock flex, the head flare out wider, then his mouth flood with cum.

Peyton knew how Braxton was setting the tone of their messing around. Occasionally Braxton would suck him off, but most of the time he jacked him off, or like before, had Peyton do it while he watched. For days, this new arrangement played out. Peyton did not mind at first, but over time he began to feel something was missing, or wrong in some way. It was not what he desired. He imagined their relationship more mutual, Braxton willing to do the same things he would do. But Braxton was showing a resistance to giving him the same. He wondered if this were the best he could expect from him.

Late at night, unable to sleep, Peyton would wonder if there was a way to break down this resistance. To push Braxton to give him what he wanted. He did not feel it selfish, if anything, he thought Braxton was the one being selfish. But he knew there was a fear of opening up that Braxton seemed unable to surmount.  

A couple weeks passed, and Braxton was exercising more control over Peyton. There were no more mutual hand jobs or sucking him off too. Peyton found himself submitting to Braxton, sucking his cock all the time. Before classes, when he returned to the dorm, when he was in the shower and Braxton would get in with him, pushing him to his knees, and at night, pulling him from bed and telling him to suck. Braxton became reckless, leaving the bathroom door unlocked to the other room and once, he even left their door open to the corridor while sitting on Peyton’s chest feeding him cock. It was as if Braxton wanted someone to find out Peyton was sucking his cock. That all he had to do was tell Peyton to suck and Peyton was do so, submitting to him each time.

And Peyton submitted every time. He wanted Braxton to such a degree, he willingly did it. It seemed he had Braxton’s cock in his mouth all the time. He no longer gagged when Braxton pushed inward all the way, instead letting the flared head push into his throat.

Braxton grew cocky again, the bravado of the first few weeks at the beginning of fall semester returned. It was intimidating to Peyton, making him even more submissive. But the worst was not the dominance Braxton was exercising over him. It was the girls Braxton began to pick up. This reasserting of his male prowess. At first, Braxton hid it from him. Peyton found out from some of the guys joking about one girl Braxton lured into the toilet at the sports bar late one night. He confronted Braxton. He tried to sound uncaring, but his voice broke and he was near tears. His jealously scared him, for what it spoke about his feelings. Braxton initially denied it, but then he laughed, and said he was meeting girls. Then he taunted Peyton with how the sex was better. Finally Braxton said it, the thing that hung between them.

“I’m not gay, and I don’t owe you an explanation,” Braxton uttered.

“But…what about us…”

“Us? There is no us.”

Later than night, Braxton was by his bed.

“Peyton; suck me off.”

Peyton climbed out of bed, going to his knees.

The first Saturday the weather turned warm enough for a light jacket, Peyton left early and walked into town. He had breakfast at the diner, strolled the streets, while thinking about Braxton and if he could get some control over him. Find a way to make this relationship between them more mutual. He wanted to please Braxton, but he felt like Braxton had gained control over him to avoid doing anything in return. He knew it was some jock bullshit about not being a cocksucker. The notion of masculinity that Peyton was beginning to think was more than just aggravating, but corrosive. He had heard Braxton’s banter with some of the other guys. Calling a guy who lost in a video game a cocksucker and fag. It was ugly, and sooner or later, it would have to stop, or he would have to make himself stop submitting to Braxton; whatever it took.

It as nearly three in the afternoon before Peyton returned to the dorm. The corridor was noisy, guys going from room to room, and the sound of video games and music spilled out open doors. He found his door closed and assumed Braxton was out with some of the guys and he felt a sense of relief. Door unlocked, he eased into the dark room and froze.

Braxton was sitting in the middle of the room, naked, staring back.

“Where have you been?” Braxton asked. The tone was friendly, but one demanding an answer.

“What do you care?”

“Don’t get smart. It doesn’t suit you.”

Peyton moved closer with hands balled into tight fists.

“Isn’t there some girl taking care of you?” asked Peyton, trying to sound defiant, but even to his own ears he sounded weak and weary.

“But you’re the best at sucking and you swallow. Besides, Peyton, you know you want it. Strip and get down here and suck me off.”

Peyton did not understand why Braxton even wanted him to get naked. Why bother if all he was expected to do was suck. But he did it. First the shirt, then his jeans and boxers, and he saw Braxton’s eyes looking at him. No matter what Braxton said, Peyton could see a desire in those eyes for him. He moved down and took Braxton in his mouth.

Peyton sucked Braxton while stroking his own cock, building up his arousal until he was sucking with abandon. Pushing down on Braxton’s rock-hard cock until his nose buried in the pubic hair. He would swallow around the cock, then pull back. He tongued it, licked the head, and sucked it into his mouth. His own cock was rock hard, and he felt his release approaching. Braxton flexed in his mouth, then flooded it with cum. As the thick cum hit the back of this throat, he came too. His cock flexed in his stroking hand as Braxton flexed in his mouth with every ejaculation. Then they were both spent. and he leaned back.

Braxton said something but Peyton did not register it, everything still a blur around him. He looked at the puddles of cum on the floor, then at his still hard cock. He looked up at Braxton seeing the lips move but not hearing.

Peyton let his eyes scan down the familiar body, one exposed to him so often he knew every curve, how every muscle was revealed under the smooth skin and the tattoos on the back and on one calf. He looked at the muscular chest, the flat stomach, the now flaccid cock still glistening wet from his spit, as he tasted Braxton’s cum in his mouth. Looking down at the floor between Braxton’s legs he saw the puddles of cum. It was his, sprayed over the floor as Braxton’s flooded his mouth. He could not believe how hard he came, but he remembered how his orgasm rocked him as Braxton’s cum filled his mouth. He had shuddered with every ejaculation, while struggling to keep Braxton’s spurting cock in his mouth.

“I said lick it up,” Braxton uttered bringing Peyton’s eyes back up.

“What?” Peyton foolishly replied. He knew what Braxton wanted.

“Lick. It. Up.”

Peyton did not understand it. This hold Braxton had over him. He wanted to defy him, just this once, but he bent over getting on hands and knees. He looked at the puddles, then bent to the first one dragging his tongue through it. He tasted his own cum and felt grit from the floor. Then he licked up the next puddle, and the next, not stopping until he had cleaned up every one.

When he sat up, the taste of his own cum overpowering that of Braxton’s, he looked up, wondering how he came to this point. To be so submissive to him. To do what was asked, willingly, without question. His own cock stayed half hard and it bobbed up and down between his thighs as he waited for Braxton to say something. To give his next command.

“I’m going to get cleaned up; come scrub my back,” said Braxton, climbing to his feet and heading to the bathroom. He was thankful Braxton locked the door this time, often leaving it unlocked as if he dared one of the guys to walk in on them. How often he had been on his knees sucking Braxton’s cock in the shower, he did not know, but far too often, he was anxiously watching that door, wondering when he would be discovered.

As he rubbed the muscular back, suds cascading down it, he thought about those first few days at the beginning of fall semester, when he found himself sharing a room with a junior. He remembered the bravado coming from the room as he approached the open door, Braxton bragging about some girl he had met the night before, fucking her in the parking lot in the back of his SUV. Peyton knew he was going to have a hard time sharing a room with this person, even before laying eyes on him. He hoped for someone like himself, quiet, reserved, and if the stars would just fucking align for him one time, gay. But his hopes died with the realization he was sharing the room with a campus jock, one sitting in the room in nothing but gym shorts, revealing a body he would come to know, intimately.

A jock unable to admit to his own sexuality.

During the night, Peyton found Braxton standing by his bed, naked, cock hard as rock.

“Suck me,” Braxton uttered.

Peyton looked up at the dark silhouette and frowned. This was not what he wanted. He watched the silhouette bend down, and a hand took him by the arm and pulled.

“Come on, Peyton, get on your knees and suck me off,” said Braxton.

Peyton climbed out of bed and stood before the dark silhouette. He stared where the eyes would be, knowing neither could see the other’s eyes. For an eternity neither moved.

“Peyton?” Braxton asked, suddenly his tone different. The tone Peyton recognized as one lacking the confidence Braxton pretended to possess. “Are you going to suck me off?”

Peyton stared at the silhouette before him, as if in the darkness of it he could see something not evident in the light. He took a deep breath, resolved to his answer.

“No.”

Peyton refuses? What gives? What will happen between them? Will Braxton demand Peyton’s submission?

Watch for the next chapter of Lick It Up to find out.