Author’s Note -- PURO PINCHE FLU SEASON!
So, yeah. Honey and I spent the last week sick off our asses. I’ve been waiting for my co-workers to get me sick so I could justify taking a sickday, but -no- they had to wait until my vacation to do it. Seriously, I woke up on the first day of vacation feeling like five kinds of shit. The fuckers. I brought home work to do, too (which I ignored on principle).
Honey pitched (what I can only assume was Nyquil-induced) storylines at me. Like - While on a quest to visit Buc-ees, Efrain gets kidnapped by a gay werebear in a less-clean gas station bathroom, and Cory has to channel his inner-tiger to get his wolfie back. Oh, and the villain is an androgynous transsexual bisexual with blonde cornrows. Or, they go on a quest to find the ultimate aphrodisiac. I think he’s been reading too many Chinese light novels and trap yaoi and it has slowly warped his mind.
I’d like to say the delay in chapters 14 and 15 were due to illness, but I kinda got distracted by my Netflix que and FFXIV. Such sweet, sweet drugs. >____>
Did I ever tell you how much you rock for reading my stuff? ~Dayne (firstname.lastname@example.org)
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Chapter 15 – Smitten Wolfie, Drunken Boyfriend
This is what I hate about Cards Against Humanity. I have the suckassiest hand, and have to play a lame as fuck card, only to pull up the most perfect card. Not like it would matter. Laurel’s friends are fucking idiots and wouldn’t get a clever play if it bit their basic asses. Her posse of girlfriends and attendant boyfriends brought over cheap alcohol, but have been steadily plowing through my craft brews and wine. Laurel and Efrain still haven’t apologized or paid me back for what they drank (and ate – I can forgive the steaks, but I was looking forward to that fucking gelato. She knows pistachio is my favorite).
If it wasn’t for my stupid TV, I wouldn’t have to deal with them.
Letting Jameson talk me into buying a bigass flatscreen was the worst idea ever. Now, I have to put up with Efrain and Cory watching Sports Center all Sunday and Laurel bringing over friends for dinner and movies.
They made me watch Frozen. I thought I had escaped that stupid movie, but now Mike and Laurel are singing “Let it Go” and I’m unable to get the godforsaken song out of my head. Just when I think I finally got rid of it, one of them will start singing again and Laurel’s friends will join in like the mindless lemmings they are. Mike even started randomly texting me lines from the stupid fucking song whenever he thought I needed a reminder.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, they brought out the board games.
One of the boyfriends pulls up ESPN, so he can watch recaps from this afternoon’s game while we play. Cory and Efrain did some impressive something or other and got a little screentime. I have to admit, they’re both pretty photogenic, even sweaty and wearing eyeblack. However, seeing my hot roommate wearing his usual black bandana over his near-ebony waves, and his equally hot boyfriend sporting that braided leather choker he’s been wearing for over a month, running around in skin-tight football pants does more to piss me off than anything else because I still remember how much sleep I lose when they spend the night together.
So, between stupid fucking Disney, Laurel’s friends drinking my alcohol, hot football players who have loud raucous sex with each other, and bad Cards Against Humanity hands, my night fucking sucks.
As if the evening couldn’t get worse, I hear Cory’s truck screech to a halt into the driveway. My lip finally healed up a couple days ago, but Efrain has been keeping us separated as much as possible. Seems my grace period is over.
Two doors slam shut, and I hear him and Efrain laughing and horsing around in the driveway. Everyone else in the room is guffawing over the latest round, so they’re caught completely unaware when the two massive football players who were just on screen tumble through the door, drunk and about two seconds from fornicating with each other.
* * *
I glance over at Cory, drunk off his ass in the passenger seat.
“I’ve never given road head,” he says. “I want to give you road head.” He starts unbuckling his seat belt.
Admitting that he can’t hold his liquor was probably the worst thing Cory could have told the crew. Next thing you know, we’re back from taking his truck on a keg run and everyone is surreptitiously keeping his cup full. I tried to stop them, but they started ragging on me.
Thankfully, they didn’t get the Baker-worthy cringe-fest they’d hoped for.
Instead, he and Teague spent all night having deeply philosophical conversations about quantum physics and string theory. It weirded everyone the fuck out, but wasn’t anything to post on Facebook about. Then, when I finally got him away from the guys, he dropped a bomb on me.
I caught him alone in the hallway on his way back from taking a leak. I wanted to make sure he’s alright, but he had other ideas. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me.
“Did I ever tell you how really horny alcohol makes me?” He slurred against my mouth. I touched up my hair again, so he’s been running his hands over the stubble on the sides and back whenever we’re alone. He already pulled the rest of my hair out of the topknot so he could run his fingers through it. He has to know how much it gets me going.
“You should take advantage of my ine…inebri…inebriated state and have your way with me.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned. “Oh yay, whiskey dick.”
“But, I didn’t drink any whiskey,” he said. “Besides, my dick isn’t the one we need to get up.”
And then, he dove for my junk. Good thing we were alone in the hallway. I decided it was time to call it a night, so I loaded my loaded boyfriend into his truck and headed back to my place.
He at least waited until we were out of the neighborhood before he started trying to pull my dick out of my pants.
Not going to lie – I’m turned on as fuck, especially with the added danger of getting caught, but that’s seriously the last thing we need. I can see the headlines. I mean, it’s all there – two underage football players, caught en flagrante, and under influence (I’m pretty sure I’m not legally drunk, but I definitely have a decent buzz going).
As much as my dick is protesting it, I make Cory keep his seatbelt on. He still plays with me the whole ride home, running his hands over any part of my body he can get at – hair, chest, stomach, arms, thighs, cock. Worse still, I avoid looking at him, but I can still see him out the corner of my eye giving himself the same attention.
“You are so getting it when I get you inside,” I manage to grind out as I pull into the subdivision. We’re both riled up and breathing hard by this point.
“Is that supposed to scare me, ‘Rain?”
“No,” I say, tapping under his chin with my finger. “But, you’re trembling just the same.”
He licks his lips nervously, and I think I have him cowed for the moment, but then he firmly grabs my cock through my jeans and rubs me in just the right way. I lose it. My foot comes down on the break harder than I intended and the truck screeches to a halt in the driveway.
“I’m going to nail the fuck out of your ass,” I moan.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” he whoops and runs out of the truck.
I give chase.
It takes a few laps around the truck before I finally grab him. I’m faster and lighter than him, but I still count myself lucky that he’s drunk and wants to be caught. I wrap my arms around him from behind, so I can corral him into the house. We hobble, laughing and breathing heavy, toward the front door. As I’m unlocking the door, he turns around in my arms and kisses me hard. His tongue traces my bottom lip before he bites it.
“How bad am I going to get it?”
“Hmm,” I say, my voice heavy with arousal. “You won’t be able to sit down for days.”
“That’s it?” he murmurs against my mouth. He rolls his hips against me, and I’m so lost in the feel of our cocks rubbing against each other’s body that I forget to worry about my neighbors seeing us. It’s late, but I’m sure we’re making enough noise outside to wake up somebody.
“There are no words for what I’m about to do to you.” I manage to get the door open and we tumble in.
We make it a few steps past the foyers before he body-checks me against the wall. It knocks my head, making little dizzy tingles go through me as he grinds against me. His tongue steals into my mouth and I can’t help moaning.
“So, when you gonna start wrecking my ass?” He nibbles my jaw and moves down my neck. I lift my chin to give him access, and that’s when I notice that we have an audience. Indie, along with Laurel, Mike, and a couple people I don’t know, gape at us from the living room.
“Oh, hi,” I say, just as Cory makes this adorable growling sound and bites my neck. My knees go weak and my eyes roll back. He starts sucking on my neck, and I bite back a moan. “Uhm, CC…”
“Si Si?” he chuckles against my neck. He purrs. “Yes, yes.”
Okay, I’m new to using pet names; calling him “Babe” or whatever just feels weird.
“Cory,” I try again. “We aren’t alone.”
He finally lifts his head.
“Oh, it’s Indie,” he says dismissively. He looks back at me. “Who gives a fuck about Indie?”
“It’s not just Indie,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You know, Indie didn’t want to build a snowman with me,” he pouts. It’s absolutely sinful that a 210lbs, muscled-up man should look this hot while being pouty and cute.
“What are you even talking about?”
“Preston still calls him Iceman,” he says.
“Iceman?” Indie asks. God, he looks pissed. Laurel giggles.
“Preston has a bunch of others – Mr. Freeze, Frostybitch, Asswrecker, Southpole…” he starts listing off. With each entry on the list, Indie inches closer to fucking exploding. Mike’s fighting really hard to not laugh his ass off. The others in the room (most likely Mike or Laurel’s friends because Indie doesn’t make friends) don’t even know what to make of the spectacle.
I need to get Cory out of here fast.
“Come on,” I say, dragging him off.
Before I get him out of the room, he turns around to address the living room.
“Y’all might wanna turn up the TV,” Cory back calls to them. “I get pretty loud.”
“I’ll try to keep him quiet,” I tell Indie, whose face is almost red. It’s either from rage or embarrassment, but I’m not sticking around to find out which.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I get him to my bedroom. God, this fucker is going down. I hope he doesn’t have any plans for walking out my room for the next couple days.
“Ooooooh. Is shit about to get real?” he giggles. I shoot him a level look. He laughs and dances out of my reach. “I like when shit gets real.”
As if he had no idea that he’s walking toward his doom, he waltzes to the bed. I put on some music before I follow. A lifetime of shucking off his shoes at any opportunity has left Cory with a preternatural ability for getting things off his feet. He already has his socks and shoes off and is jumping into bed by the time I get off my first shoe. Guess whose shoes didn’t have laces. Hint: he’s not the one sitting in the middle of the bed, waiting for the other to join him.
I pull my shirt over my head, as if to even us up, as I close the distance between us. He follows my lead. When I unbutton my jeans and lower the zipper, he does the same. I pause. Cory’s still grinning widely, as if he isn’t about to get fucked within an inch of his life. I drop my jeans to the floor and watch as he pulls off his and kneels at the edge of the bed.
I stand in front of him. He dips down on all fours and playfully slurps his tongue over my abs, between my pecs, along my collarbone, and onto my neck, where he growls and bites me again. He laughs and says something that I swear sounded like “good boy.”
Enough of this shit.
I grip his chin and kiss him hard. His fingers hook into my waistband and draw down my boxer briefs until my cock springs free. The fabric falls down my legs and I kick them off. He pulls out his own cock and grips both members in one hand. He eases his hand up and down our shafts while I send my free hand down to his trunks. I slip them over his hips, exposing his mouth-watering ass. I rub over both cheeks, pull them apart, tease the sensitive bud between. He gasps when I grip him hard and trembles when I smack him. The tips of my fingers soothe the sharp sting of my palm before I hit smack him again. Cory jumps, thrusting his hips forward and making his cock rub against mine.
Through all this, my other hand maintains its hold on his chin while I continue plundering his mouth until he whimpers in surrender.
When I pull back, a panting and trembling Cory kneels in place of the laughing and playful one of only a few moments prior. I can’t help grinning. I shove him back and crawl on top of him, yanking off his underwear as I go. I lie between his thighs, bracing myself on my forearms, and grind my hips into his. His legs wrap around me and his hands grip my biceps.
“Nothing quippy to say about this?” I growl into his ear.
“No,” he pants, short nails digging into my arms.
“Good boy.” I reach over for the bottle of lube I left on the nightstand after this morning’s beatoff session and squirt some onto my fingers. I reach between our bodies to seek out his ass. My middle finger sinks easily into his hole, so I thrust in a second finger. I twist my hand back and forth, scissoring my fingers inside him, and his back arches off the bed.
“No more foreplay.” I slip out my fingers long enough to lube up my dick and press my head against him. “I’m taking your ass.”
“Yes,” he begs. “Please.”
The tip of my cock forces its way past his inner ring. I marvel at the tightness encircling me as I sheath my dick in his hot ass.
“Ay, que rico,” he purrs. Before I have no more than a third of my length buried inside, I pull back, almost to the tip, and slowly thrust back into him. I fuck him slowly with these short, shallow thrusts until he starts panting and begging for more.
“What is it, Cory?” I stare into his arousal-darkened blue eyes. “Tell me what you want.”
“I need more.”
“More?” I ask.
“Please, give me your cock,” he whines. I continue my torturous movements, despite knowing exactly what he’s pleading for. “I promise I’ll be a good boy.”
“I doubt that,” I respond and he whimpers in frustration. “But, I have an idea.”
I reach over to my nightstand for the washcloth I used to clean off my cum this morning.
“Open your mouth.”
“I thought you promised to be a good boy.”
He obeys, and I shove my jizzrag between his teeth. A look of confusion steals over his face, but I grab both of his hands and pin them above his head before he can react.
“Yeah, it’s exactly what you think it is,” I tell him as I thrust deeper into him. He starts panting in indignation and I laugh. “Oh, please. You know you like it.”
He fights it, but I pull back and thrust into him again, digging further in his ass. His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillows.
“That what you wanted?” Cory’s deep moan is muffled by the rag, but it still vibrates between our chests.
His legs come up and wrap around my waist. The angle of his hips sends my cockhead over his prostate and his moans get louder. Still unsatisfied with my progress, he digs his heels into my ass and shoves me down into his hole. I grunt as I bottom out in him. He clenches hard around me, and his whole body shivers.
“So, all that talk about being good,” I start, my words growling out between clenched teeth. I reposition his hands so I can hold both wrists in one hand. My free hand hooks under his arm to grip his shoulder for leverage. I pull back my hips, pulling my dick out of his ass completely. He whimpers in protest. I pause, waiting until he’s about to breathe out, before I slam my cock into his ass so brutally that it forces the air out of his lungs. “You’re just making your punishment that much worse.”
Cory throws back his head and screams around a mouthful of jizz- and lube-soaked terrycloth. I pull back again to repeat the move and he screams even louder. I fuck him hard and fast. His thighs grip my waist, urging me on. There’s nothing left of my rational mind to give a fuck about who can hear us, but my impromptu gag is doing a decent job of keeping his screams muffled.
My entire body comes alive at the feel of his tight ass pulling me deeper. His ass spasms around me and I feel my balls pull tighter to the base of my cock. I free his hands.
“Jerk your dick,” I tell him. “I want to feel you cum while I unload in your ass.”
One hand complies with my command, while the other wraps across my shoulders. I slip my newly-freed hand under to grab his other shoulder. With both hands in position, I slam into his body even harder. I feel his short nails digging into my back hard enough to leave marks.
I hold back my orgasm until I feel the early stages of his – the tightening of his legs around my waist, the whole body trembling, the spasmodic clenching in his ass. He jerks his dick harder before throwing back his head and screaming. Jets of hot cum splash us both, coating our chests, before I explode.
I cum harder than I expected to and rush to bury my face against his neck to muffle the desperate noises falling out of me as my dick unloads in his ass. I keep thrusting into him, shooting cum deeper and deeper into his ass. His teeth bite down hard on the washcloth and his voice rises in ecstasy. My hips plow him as if possessed and working completely of their own will. The burn of his nails marking my back heightens the shocks rocking my body.
It seems like forever before I finally wind down. I’m as much of a panting, whimpering mess as he is when our limbs finally untangle and my dick slips out of him. He pulls the cumrag out of his mouth and we take turns using it to clean up before we curl up and fall asleep.
* * *
“Oh my God, that was so hot.”
I’m mad enough to spit fire by the time Efrain pulls Cory out of sight, but one of Laurel’s friends snaps me out of it. A bunch of us shoot her a confused look.
“I think I came a little,” breathes the other. Her cheeks are a little flush and a nervous giggle rises from her mouth. She clears her throat and the moment passes.
It’s my turn to play card czar, so I pick up a black card. I’m about to read it when I notice one of the boyfriends, the one who turned on ESPN, staring at the hall leading to Efrain’s room with a look of confused horror fixed on his face.
Seems that display broke his simple little dude-bro brain. I don’t even both trying to not laugh my ass off.
“What’s so funny, Indie?” I can’t stop laughing long enough to answer Laurel, so I just wave my hand in the poor guy’s direction. The other boyfriend gets a good look at the comical thousand-yard stare before he’s rolling, too.
“That’s probably our cue to go,” he chokes out.
“Holy fuck,” I snort while he starts gathering the cards. “That alone was worth a whole night of playing 7th wheel.”
“Here, I’ll help you clean up,” Laurel says and Mike stands to join her.
“No,” I wave, eyes tearing up because I can’t stop laughing. “I’ll take care of it.” Cory will most likely be hungover tomorrow, which will make noisy early morning house cleaning a very rewarding activity.
It takes a few minutes, but I herd everyone out the door and lock it behind them. Three sets of car doors close, and three engines turn over, and I finally have my house back (give or take a couple football players rutting like animals in the master suite).
As I’m shutting off the lights and locking down for the night, I hear a roar that I can only assume is Efrain’s orgasm. He did say he’d keep Cory quiet. He said nothing about himself.
I’m chuckling a little to myself, feeling slightly less peeved with my roommate and his boyfriend, when I get a text from Mike.
THE COLD NEVER BOTHERED ME ANYWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY
Did I mention how much I fucking hate Disney?