Page 21 of Steam

Jonah’s mouth is flushed as he sits on his heels and beams down at Rich, and the sheen of sweat on his forehead and spit on his chin is doing nothing to give Rich any sort of relief. It’s torture to rake his eyes over Jonah’s body and be denied touch. And he knows just where he’d start: a palm against the visible outline of Jonah’s cock, pressing against those awful, threadbare boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination.

Jonah’s jaw goes slack as he thinks, letting a tattooed hand trail over Rich’s stomach as he contemplates—Rich assumes—his next torture method.

Jonah is still smug and smiling when a thought occurs to him and he moves up the bed, hands reaching for Rich’s wrists. For a fleeting moment, Rich thinks that maybe he’s paid his penance and Jonah is going to untie him now—but all Jonah does is undo the part of the restraint anchoring him to the bed frame, leaving his wrists bound together.

Rich pulls his bound hands down in front of his chest, rolling his shoulders and enjoying the small modicum of relief in his arms and shoulders that feels wonderful but does absolutely nothing to make up for the fact that he’s uncomfortably hard. Rich’s muscles feel strange and shaky and he grumbles as the blood starts flowing normally to his fingers. He reaches for Jonah, but he just slaps Rich’s hands away softly.

“You still don’t get to use those,” Jonah says, sneering. “Don’t get it fucked up. No hands.”

Rich smirks and reaches out again, hooking a fingertip into the band of Jonah’s briefs.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Rich offers—and God would he. If Jonah would untie him, Rich would give the kid the ride of his goddamn lifetime. Jonah just grabs him by the wrist and holds it.

“Hey—you wanna start all this over tomorrow?” Jonah threatens. “Bet’s a bet, dude. The barbeque bet is sacred.”

“Then why’d you let me free?”

The faux-anger is gone and a dangerous smile plays across Jonah’s face like oil on the surface of water.

“‘Cause I need you to turn over.”

The combination of the words and the look Jonah shoots him has Rich’s breath catching, and he complies, throwing his weight to roll onto elbows and knees. His joints pop as he rests his weight down onto the new position.

“You still good?” Jonah asks, placing a steadying hand on the base of Rich’s spine. Rich lets out a bitter laugh.

“I’m terrible and you know it—no, amend that: you’re terrible and I hate myself.”

Jonah sighs and Rich can picture the exact frown on his face.

“Colors, Rich.”

“Roy G Biv,” Rich says. “I’m familiar.”

“Goddamn it Rich —”

“Green, ok?” Rich says, angry that the only place he’s currently being touched is his lower back. “Green. Jesus.”

“Was that so hard?”

“You’re an ass, you know that?” Rich says. Jonah clicks his tongue and drags the hand away from his spine.

“You’re one to talk,” Jonah says, smug, grabbing Rich’s ass firmly with both hands.

“I’m too hard for you to be making puns.”

“Was that… was that even a pun, though?”

Rich’s working on a rejoinder when he feels a hand in the middle of his shoulder blades, pushing him firmly down until he’s resting with his chest against the mattress, hands under his torso, and his face at a weird angle. He shudders a little—Jonah is rarely rough with him, but the kid is well aware of what it does to Rich to be handled like this. Jonah lets his weight rest against Rich’s back, holding him there for a beat just to make a point as Rich sucks a shuddering breath and his cock bobs against thin air.

Apparently, Jonah is done sniping for now, because his weight moves behind Rich on the mattress. This adds another interesting layer—not being able to see what Jonah is moving to do—and he waits, feeling exposed. There are hands on his hips after a moment to keep him still and steady, then a knee against his thighs. Jonah spreads Rich’s knees apart with his own leg and Rich hums into the mattress.

When he’s done enjoying Rich’s hitched breath at the roughness, Jonah stoops to kiss the skin at the small of Rich’s back, both dimples on the backs of his hips, the cleft of his ass. Rich hums, anticipating where this is going, ready to be teased again at least, if not satisfied.

Jonah’s hands join his lips in stroking over every plain of Rich’s ass, the kisses slowly becoming wetter and hotter, the hands beginning to squeeze and knead. For a moment, it seems to dissolve into a massage—but then Jonah changes the pace with that vertigo-inducing intensity he’s been exhibiting this whole time, spreading Rich before he drags a long lick against his ass, starting with the base of his tongue at the thin skin behind his balls and only ending when the tip of his tongue has reached the base of Rich’s spine.

Rich can’t control the sound he makes at the sudden stimulation, the high and desperate whine that comes out of him. Jonah hums but doesn’t laugh this time, simply dips to repeat the process, steadying Rich by the hips as he lays wet strokes against his hole.

Rich loses track of time and space again, nothing quite as real as the long licks and his cock bobbing against nothing. The pleasure is astounding, and he doesn’t know if it’s because Jonah’s upped his rimming game or if his nerves have gone completely haywire over the teasing—but he could come just from this if Jonah would have the compassion to give a few short strokes to his hard-on now.

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