He Said Please. Then Took Me in His Mouth
I stared down at him.
Wes sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, towel barely clinging to his hips. His eyes dragged up my body like he wasn’t sure if I was about to slap him or climb into his lap.
His fingers grazed my thigh — featherlight. Testing the waters.
“You always this quiet when you're turned on?” he said, voice low, cracked at the edges.
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
I stepped in close. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin. My hand slid into his hair, fingers tangling through the damp strands. He leaned into it like he’d been waiting for me to touch him for years.
The towel slipped off his shoulders, landing behind him in a quiet heap.
I dragged my thumb along the curve of his jaw. Felt the stubble bite my skin.
"Show me," I said. "Show me you're sorry."
His breath caught — just a hitch — and then he moved.
Hands slow. Careful. Like he was afraid he’d break the moment if he moved too fast. He pushed my shirt up, eyes tracing every inch of skin like it was sacred. I let him lift it over my head. Toss it aside.
He stared.
Like he didn’t believe I was real.
Then his mouth found my stomach — a soft, reverent kiss that made every muscle twitch.
Lower.
Lower.
His fingers trembled as he popped my belt. Dragged my zipper down. I kicked off my jeans and briefs, cock heavy between us.
Wes stared at it like he’d just found religion.
“I’ve never done this before,” he said, voice barely there. “Never even kissed a guy before tonight.”
I tightened my grip in his hair. Tugged just enough to make him look up at me.
“You sure you want to?”
“I need to,” he breathed. “Please.”
I didn’t say a word.
Just let him work.
Wes leaned in, mouth opening around the head of my cock. The first feel of his mouth was hot, wet and clumsy. I made my hips jerk forward without thinking. He sucked too tight at first. Didn’t know how deep to go. But fuck, it didn’t matter. It was Wes Carter. On his knees. Lips wrapped around my cock like he needed it to breathe.
He gagged a little when he tried to take more, pulling back coughing, spit dripping down his chin.
"Fuck, that's it" I breathed, tightening my grip in his hair.
He looked up at me, eyes wild, and then he went back in.
Hungrier. Sloppier.
His mouth slid lower, wet and greedy. Cheeks hollowing. Spit pooling at the corners of his lips. The sounds—loud, obscene—made my cock throb harder against his tongue.
Watching him — watching Wes Carter — my goddamn nightmare from college — with his lips wrapped around my cock, struggling, moaning, trying so hard — it almost broke me. I rocked my hips forward, feeding him more, and he took it. Gagged again but didn’t stop. His hands gripped my thighs like he needed to hold onto something real.
“Good boy,” I muttered, voice low.
Wes whimpered at that — actually whimpered — and sucked harder, rubbing his thighs together like he couldn’t help it. The sound of him — messy, desperate, so fucking needy — filled my head, my chest, my cock.
He pumped the base with one hand, sloppy and desperate. His other hand clutched my leg like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. He sucked harder, faster, chasing the rhythm like his life depended on it.
“Jesus, Wes—” I growled. “You are doing so fucking good.”
He pumped the base of my shaft with one hand, jerky and wet, while he bobbed his head, getting sloppier by the second. He whimpered around me and it went straight to my balls. His eyes fluttered closed. He sucked harder like he needed the praise. Like he’d never been called anything that made him feel wanted before. His hand pumped the base in sloppy strokes while his mouth worked the rest.
Spit dripped from the corner of his mouth.
He was a mess.
My mess.
"Fuck, Wes—" I growled, tugging his hair, trying to pull him back.
But he fought it. Shook his head. Mouthed deeper onto me like he wanted it. Like he needed to finish what he started.
Watching him — Watching my college bully gagging on my dick, struggling to take me deeper, choking and still fucking trying— It did something to me. And then his throat tightened around my cock, when I felt the hot clench of him swallowing me down—I lost it.
My whole body shuddered.
Heat tearing through me like wildfire.
My cock throbbed deep inside his mouth.
After a while, he popped off, gasping. Spit stringing from his lips to the head of my cock before it snapped. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, chest rising and falling hard. His cheeks were flushed deep red. His hair was a mess where I’d been gripping it.
He caught his breath — then huffed a small, wrecked laugh.
"Damn," Wes said, voice hoarse.
"That's a new feeling."
I just stared at him. At the boy who once made my life hell, now kneeling there like he’d been built to fall apart for me.
Wes pushed himself up, slow, still breathing heavy.
And then he sat back onto the bed. Legs spreading wide. Arms resting loose on his thighs.
Casual. Open. But his eyes stayed locked on me the whole time. Hungry. Waiting. Daring me to make the next move.
Without a word, I dropped to my knees.
Wes's eyes locked onto mine, his breath quickening as the towel barely hung on, the tension between us so thick you could taste it.
I looked up at him, a grin tugging at my lips. “Think you can handle my throat, big guy?”
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