Page 260 of Bad Pucking Influence

A tiny little voice in the back of my mind warns me that might not be a good thing. He may regard me as a fuck buddy now, but his caregiver personality makes me think casual isn’t in his wheelhouse. Plus, there are still lots of questions about his sexuality, and if he’s more pan or demi than bisexual, being an overachiever in the seduction department might backfire on me. It doesn't stop me from telling the voice to fuck right off, though. Surely, a few weeks of fun isn’t pushing it. And I really want my fun before we go back to being friends of friends or whatever.

“Ooh, that was close,” I tell Noah as I mute my mic and press the pause button on my hips. “We lost half our team and almost didn’t make it past that level.”

“So, you’re done?” His voice is deliciously scratchy.

I take a peek at him over my shoulder, struggling to keep the victorious smile off my face when I see how tightly he’s holding his jaw.

“Not yet, big guy.” I pat his chest before turning my attention back to the game. “One more level.”

“How long will that take?”

“Hard to say.” I play coy. “If we play well, thirty minutes or more. If we don’t, it could all be over in five.”

I’m about to turn my mic back on when a strong arm wraps around my waist, hauling me up just enough that I’m weightless for about two seconds before a blast of cool air hits my semi-hard cock. “What are you doing?” I glance down to see Noah has shoved my athletic shorts down to my thighs.

“Making it so you don’t play well.” He wraps a warm hand around me and starts gently kneading my dick, coaxing it to attention.

So, wow. Delayed gratification makes Noah kind of assertive. I like it.

“T, you there?” a voice crackles in my ear as I suppress an unexpected tremor.

Turning the mic on, I croak, “I’m here.”

“They’re trying to flank us. Hold your position.”

“Yeah, sure. Ungh.” I switch the mic off to conceal my groan as Noah cups my sac, tugging it gently before rolling my balls in his palm.

“Easy there, big guy. I need to concentrate.” I grit as I maneuver my avatar to face the oncoming attack.

“I’m not stopping you.” Noah presses my balls into the base of my shaft, giving them a final squeeze before they slip from his hand as he wraps it around my length.

“This is a serious game,” I scold even as my hips try to chase his hand. “It's the final level.”

“Okay.” He gives me a few languid strokes before clutching the tip in his firm hold, sending an unexpected jolt through my body as my eyelids grow heavy with lust.

Curses ring through my headset, snapping my focus back to the game. “Dammit, I just killed my teammate.”

“That sucks.” Noah massages away the sting with more soft strokes, then grips me hard and gives my junk a strong tug, sending carnal little sparks of desire ping-ponging from root to tip.

“You don’t even understand how shitty that is, do you?” My ass clenches as he circles his thumb over the crown.

“Nope.”

“Team killing people is a big deal. You can get kicked out of the group,” I rant even as I rock my pelvis forward to spear my dick through his fist. “It’s like stepping out of the goal and letting the other team take a free shot.”

“Sounds like maybe you should keep your dick in your pants while you’re playing then.” He releases me from his grip—I totally don’t groan in frustration when he does, it’s because I nearly killed my own guy again thank you very much—and cups my sac.

“I’m not the one who took it out.” I grind down on his lap to take back some control, which is short-lived since it makes his fingers graze my hole, and I shoot Ted. He’s never going to forgive me for that.

“What the fuck, T. Get your head in the game.”

I turn the mic on long enough to choke out, “My bad,” and shut it off before I moan.

“Sounds like you’re having trouble concentrating.” Noah slides his big hand up my length, closing it in his fist as he starts to pump. Leisurely at first, feather-light strokes that seem to be more about him learning my body than getting me aroused. Then tighter, faster, as if he wants to see how rough I can take it–what will make me moan the loudest.

Soft and gentle, hard and furious, he alternates between the two with zero warning. Noah’s either a natural at hand jobs or so clueless he doesn’t realize he’s edging me. Either way, it’s damn near impossible to keep my eyes on the game instead of the giant paw holding my swollen cock.

This is not what I had in mind when I suggested foreplay. I thought I’d rub my ass over his covered junk for a minute–or thirty–to get him in the mood. A little friction, a little pressure, nothing that would get him so riled he’d turn desperate. And I definitely didn’t expect him to be so needy he’d pull me out to play. I’m not complaining.

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