Page 13 of Win You Over
You sure I can’t do this alone?
He scrunches up the note and throws it into his trash bin.
“No, we’re doing this together.”
After an hour of pouring over Walt Whitman’s words and both writing out points about what we thought his motives were for writing the poem we selected, Finn walks back into the room.
“Got bored. Can he go now?” he asks, making himself comfortable on Remington’s bed. He has a familiarity with Remington and his home that speaks of a long friendship or of someone who takes life for granted. I imagine that comes from being handed everything you could ever dream of and wanting for nothing.
“Holden’s staying for dinner,” Remington replies, his tone flat as he studies the laptop screen, still distracted by the work we’ve been doing.
I nudge his shoulder to get his attention, then shake my head before closing my laptop and gathering up my things. Remington protests and when I pass him a final note reminding him once again that we are not friends, Finn grins widely, like the cat that got the cream.
I want to tell him that he can stand down – that we’re not in some competition to win over Remington. I want nothing to do with either of them.
But, I can’t say anything. So instead, I leave and head home to my empty room and my cheap noodles.
Chapter 6
Remington
Ilook at my watch again. It’s past seven. Holden said he’d be here by six thirty at the latest. When the clock hits seven thirty, I type out yet another message to him and then sit back on my bed and scroll through my phone, polishing off a bag of sour grape candy as I do. If Holden’s not going to show, I guess I’ll come up with other plans for the evening.
Opening a group chat, I ask my buddies what their plans are and then close the thread before pulling up the Just4You app. Paging through my subscriptions, I land on one of my favourite camboys, and see he’s currently live, hidden behind a rather large paywall. I pay the fee, then settle against my headboard, my legs stretched out in front of me.
When the video loads, I’m surprised to see he’s not alone. There’s another man on screen with him, holding a blue silk paddle. The one guy – a twenty something twink, with light blond hair – is on his knees on the bed, his ass up, a purple diamond ended butt plug sparkling between his cheeks. The guy behind him lifts the paddle and lands it across his rosy cheeks, making his body tremble and a whimper fall from his lips.
The sounds from both guys, and the image of the smaller guy taking a lashing over his perfectly round globes, have my body heating and my cock thickening behind the confines of my grey sweats. He turns his face towards the screen and smiles wickedly at the camera, as if he knows exactly where my mind is going. His eyes are wet with tears, and when his partner spanks him again, he groans loudly. My cock twitches in response, begging me to play.
Stripping off my top, I rub a hand over my abs and then up to my nipple. The nub is hard and sensitive and I take it between two fingers, pinching and squeezing, sending bolts of painful pleasure through me. There’s something about pain, the stinging sensation of it, the way it radiates in waves of ice and fire, that gets me hotter than ever. My body ignites like fireworks under the right amount. I haven’t found a partner who enjoys it as much as I do, butfuckam I good at inflicting it on myself.
On the screen, the partner has removed the butt plug and is laving his tongue over the twink’s hole, while his other hand smooths over the red blossoming marks on his perfect ass. My hand slides down my stomach, ghosting over my happy trail before pulling the waistband of my sweats beneath my balls, freeing my aching cock. Then, with my eyes on my screen where the men are both moaning deliciously, I take myself in hand and stroke, twisting on the up pull.
My eyes roll back when I swipe my thumb over the tip, collecting the drop of pre-cum there, which I smooth along myshaft, adding to the glide of my hand. My breaths quicken and I force my eyes open to watch as the bigger man slams his cock into the twink, who lets out a keening wail before burying his face into the sheets.
My balls draw up tight and lightning bolts shoot through my groin, hurtling me towards the edge. Leaning forward, I spit on my cock and work myself over faster and harder. My heart races, beating loudly in my ears and drowning out every other sound.
Movement catches my attention as my bedroom door opens. My eyes widening as Holden walks in, looking harried and flushed. Our eyes lock and I can’t hold back, cannot stop my inevitable plunge over the cliff.
“Holden…” I moan his name, throwing my head back. Cum erupts from my cock, shooting over my naked stomach, some hitting me on the chin. When I look back at the door, Holden is still standing there. His whiskey brown eyes, dark, narrowed on me, his lips parted. His tongue darts out to lick them, leaving them wet and glossy.
“Heard of knocking?” I say, my voice raw, coming out in panting breaths. I stay in that position, my hand still on my now deflating cock for three, four heartbeats. My body flushes with sensation, my legs tingling with the afterglow. I tuck myself away, then climb off the bed, rubbing my cum into my skin before pulling on my t-shirt.
Holden fumbles with his bag, takes out a pen and pink sticky notes. His hand shoots across the paper, before he rips it from the pad. Keeping his distance, he stretches an arm towards me and I take the messily scrawled note.
Your mom said to come up. I did knock, but you didn’t answer. Should I go?
His cheeks are rosy pink and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes darting to the door, then to my desk before falling back on me.
“Nah, you’re good. I’m all done.” I pull out both chairs from my desk and sit down, then gesture to the free one. Holden walks slowly towards me, his chewed lip a shade of pink that matches his cheeks, then takes a seat.
Don’t you want to shower or something?
He writes, pushing the note towards me.
“Do youwantme to shower?”
He shakes his head, his floppy dark brown hair falling into his eyes. He pushes the strands back, tucking some behind his ear before putting his pen to paper again.
