Page 20 of Steam

That’s their standard fare, after all, Jonah bottoming enthusiastically—but this? He’d earned this with the godforsaken bottle of Texas Tim’s.

Jonah returns to his task, spitting in his hand to slick him. At the first full stroke, Rich’s cock throbs against his palm, and Rich lets out a sigh that sounds half-relieved. Jonah twists slowly, appreciating every plane with his fingers, careful not to establish a rhythm. He continues to stroke him unevenly as he dips to kiss loud and wet against Rich’s inner thigh. Rich hums and stills, his breaths punctuated by rolling little moans that ebb and flow as Jonah moves, worrying the skin with his teeth in some places and lapping gently at others.

As his hand starts to go tacky, he moves back to Rich’s cock, stroking patterns against the shaft with his tongue until he’s slick again. He gives equal attention to every area but the head until he can tell that it’s becoming less interesting and then—only then—does he mouth softly over the tip, all soft, sliding lips.

Rich issues a soft, “Oh my God,” and the bed frame strains as he puts some pressure on his bindings.

Jonah does it again and again, taking him deeper with each stroke of his mouth until he’s willing the back of his throat to relax. Rich falls into a mantra of fuck fuck fuck as Jonah’s crawling pace finally has him swallowing around Rich’s entire length, fighting the instinct to gag, and pressing the tip of his nose into the bottom of Rich’s belly as if to prove a point. As the man on the bottom’s hips roll, Jonah pulls off just as gradually as he’d sunk down until Rich is bouncing free, wet against his own skin.

“Sweet fucking Christ, Jonah—do that again,” he says, breathy.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jonah says, fondly, holding him again by the base. Rich sighs hard.

“You’re a real problem,” he says, shutting his eyes and hipping up softly into Jonah’s grip.

Jonah might be a sadist, but he’s not the goddamned devil, and mercifully he pumps the cock in his hand for a few strokes before lowering his face again to lap up and down Rich’s length, uneven and never establishing a predictable pattern.

Jonah pulls out all the stops: mouthing with flushed lips, dragging his tongue slowly, sucking and stroking in between long pauses just to make sure nothing feels too good for too long. Jonah appreciates the change in intensity and timbre of Rich's noises each time he pauses to roll and lick his balls.

As he works, Jonah closes his eyes and makes the most obscene, wet noises he can come up with—because he knows Rich gets off as much on the sound and sight of Jonah swallowing down his cock as much as he does from the sensation. With his free hand, he reaches to touch and tease and pinch every inch of skin he can get access to, squeezing a hip hard, stroking up Rich’s belly to fumble and tease a nipple even as his mouth and other hand keep working.

Finally, his teasing begins in earnest, and he falls into the sort of pattern that could actually get someone off, sucking even strokes against the head while he twists in time with his hand. Rich responds immediately, moaning softly with his movements.

It’s like watching seconds tick off on a wall clock, except Jonah doesn’t have to count the steady, licking strokes—he knows exactly when to pull off, letting his grip go slack and his mouth go soft, trailing a teasing pattern as he takes his lips and tongue away completely. Rich sighs hard, frustrated but not wanting Jonah to know, maybe.

Jonah lets several beats pass, lets Rich’s building orgasm become a fading memory as Rich groans and he catches his breath. Then he starts again: firm grip, bobbing head, swirling tongue. Rich throbs at the first real stroke, and his hips move almost imperceptibly along with Jonah’s movements now. Jonah pulls off again after a moment, brushing wet lips against sensitive skin, and Rich lets loose a moan that tapers into a whimper.

Jonah keeps up the game of stop and go until Rich’s hips are rocking up to encourage him, until he’s leaning hard against the restraints at his wrists and moving against the hand Jonah is using to keep his hips from moving freely. Jonah pulls back to pause—but when he swallows against Rich this next time, he hums and drops both of his hands, encouraging Rich to move.

* * *

It takeshim a moment to catch on, but as soon as he understands, Rich takes full advantage, pressing hard up off the bed and fucking Jonah’s throat, letting loose a gravelly groan of relief at finally being granted the chance to take what he wants from Jonah’s mouth. It’s loud and sloppy and Jonah takes every stroke without hesitation, letting Rich bury himself to the hilt. Rich goes at it helplessly—couldn’t stop now if he wanted to, Jonah’s sounds spurring him on, the sight of his cock disappearing into that perfect mouth mesmerizing him.

He wants nothing more in this moment than to bury his fists in Jonah’s messy hair, to pull him down even further onto his cock, to cum so deep down his throat the kid wouldn’t even be able to taste it. The orgasm he’s been denied has rapidly built again into a throb that seems to span most of Rich’s body below the waist—and relief is in sight because Jonah doesn’t seem in any hurry to pull off this time. He’s finally being granted mercy here.

Rich is swinging for the fences now, testing the integrity of the bedframe, astounded that Jonah doesn’t even seem to be in discomfort other than the awkward cadence of his breathing as Rich strokes in—but then Jonah gags loud and Rich can feel the muscles constrict around him and he issues a broken groan, the inevitable orgasm sputtering and slowing down at the realization that he might’ve hurt the kid. Jonah’s hands fly to Rich’s hips, pushing him back down to the bed—but to Rich’s great astonishment, even as he presses Rich down, Jonah follows his hips, gagging and choking on Rich’s cock but still taking him as deep as he can, sinking and burying him more even as his hips are flush with the mattress, before finally pulling off with an obscene, wet noise.

It’s like missing the last step on a flight of stairs. It’s worse than being denied an orgasm—it’s like a goddamned anti-orgasm and he’s pulsing at the sudden lack. There’s a strange sound in the room and it takes a moment to register the fact that Rich is the one making it: high and desperate as a breath escapes pathetically from his lungs.

Jonah just drinks it in, holding Rich’s hips and catching his breath, smiling and a little ragged as he moves to his knees on the bed to observe the damage he’s wrought.

“Jesus Christ, Jonah.” If his hands weren’t out of play, Rich wouldn’t even be trying to touch Jonah—he’d be dragging them down his face in frustration.

Wait—strike that. He’d be strangling Jonah.

“How you doin’ champ?” Jonah’s voice is raspy and raw, and Rich squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t deal with the helpless way his hard-on bobs at the noise.

“Horrible. Terrible. Don’t patronize me,” he says. “You’re a menace.”

“Yo,” Jonah says, sounding annoyed and snapping his fingers. “Did I say to shut your eyes?”

Rich opens his eyes and rolls them.

“I need permission to blink now?”

“Maybe!” Jonah says, fanning out a hand.

It’s awful, Rich thinks, to be teased by someone who knows exactly the kind of power they have over you. Because Christ: the kid is beautiful even on his worst days, and just a surreal, over-the-top wet dream when he’s been physically worked up by sucking cock.

---