Page 6 of Steam

“Anything to get a rise out of you,” Trent says before biting down a moan at the bottom of one thrust. “What’s it gonna take to get you to slap me around a little and call me a slut again?”

Chester groans inadvertently at the suggestion and only then realizes that he’s been keeping quiet. He stops holding back, letting himself make more noise as he steadies his weight with one hand on the desk and uses his other hand to take Trent by the chin. He holds him tight and looks into those sleepy eyes, even as he keeps stroking in. Trent tenses under him and nods.

Well, there’s nothing about this that’s going to get any less weird, Chester thinks.

He slows and lays an experimental little slap against the fat part of Trent’s cheek.

The kid moans like he’s just been deep-throated, going tight around Chester and shutting his eyes. But the grin is back quickly. He spits into his hand and then snakes it between their bodies to jerk his own cock. Chester’s never seen someone look so smug.

“C’mon baby — I know you can go harder than that — “

Chester does, pulling his hand back farther to land a controlled slap on the same place.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Trent’s mouth drops open as he sucks a deep breath, arching off the table and against his own palm. He’s fucking his hand desperately now, eyebrows knit.

“You’re sick, kid,” Chester says, his voice sounding fonder than he’d meant it to. Trent just laughs.

“God that’s amazing, Chester,” he says in between huffing breaths and helpless whimpers as Chester pounds into him — and Christ, Chester had barely noticed that he was moving faster, leaning over Trent and fucking him harder than he’d normally allow himself to and —

Jesus Christ, Chester,he thinks to himself. You’re getting off on this too.

“One more time,” Trent begs, a teasing tone inching back into his voice as he gives Chester a pleading look. “I haven’t learned my lesson yet.”

Chester doesn’t slow down and he doesn’t hesitate this time, landing a precise slap against Trent’s already-pink cheek. They both moan this time, Chester’s own noise gravelly as it escapes his chest. He keeps his hand at Trent’s face this time, holding him once again by the chin.

“Are you gonna come for me like a good little slut?”

He’d cringe at how goddamn corny it sounds in his own voice, if it weren’t for the fact that Trent is gone as soon as the words are out of Chester’s mouth. Trent pulses around him and falls into a mantra of hushed, “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” as he keeps working his cock. There’s just one tense moment before he’s coming in stripes onto his own stomach and letting out a high whine.

Chester’s own orgasm isn’t far behind — not after Trent starts making needy little sounds of overstimulation, looking up at Chester like he’s the best thing the kid’s seen in ages, eyes clear and mouth flushed. Once he starts to come, it’s like every frustration and tension is transmuted into pleasure and directed towards the nerve endings in his cock, the relief of his release coming in waves and making his muscles go funny.

His thrusts stutter as he lays the final strokes, groaning raw as he comes deep into the willing body beneath him. The release is so complete that for a moment, there’s nothing else that exists other than the hot, slick pleasure of it, pulsing and grinding deep.

For one ridiculous moment, they both stay like that, trying to catch their breath. Trent’s legs are still sprawled over Chester’s shoulders, his spine bent at an odd angle as Chester props his weight up on the desk, his hands crumpling the ruined shoplifting forms.

“So do you have, like, a card or…” Trent says, his voice cracking.

Chester laughs and they start to untangle.

“Sorry I don’t have a towel or something to offer you,” Chester says, stepping back awkwardly and looking for something to give the kid to clean up with. He manages to find some old Starbucks napkins in a top drawer, splits them up, and hands over half of them. They quietly re-arrange their clothes and piece together what they were wearing from where they’d discarded their garments around the office.

“I don’t even have a bottle of water or anything in here,” Chester says, a little dismayed.

“Are you even real, dude?”

When Chester looks up, Trent is staring at him incredulously.

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.

“I just talked you into fucking me instead of fining me and you’re all, like, Mister Apologetic Aftercare.”

Chester shrugs, tucking his shirt back in.

“Just because you’re a slutty punk kind doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be polite.”

Trent barks a laugh.

“You’re a fucking trip,” he says. “What time do you get off shift?”

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