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Randy sat on the floor, backed up against the dresser across from Benson’s bed. The smell of Benson’s house had some unnamable quality reminiscent of bowling alleys; smoke and vinyl and wood polish. Randy felt comfortable here, as much as he probably could, surrounded by warmth, tobacco, and nostalgia.
Benson was not the source of nostalgia. Benson was utterly new, a distant planet Randy found with his telescope, never seen anything like it before. And Randy was curious from the day they met, always itching to hop in a shuttle and get closer, touch down on the surface and dig until his nails were stuffed with alien dirt. He wanted to find out what sat at his core and hoard it in his arms, ease the molten metal balled up in there–because he knew it was there, something hotter than hot, untouchable, a substance that could only cause harm if not left alone where it was safely cocooned inside.
There were some things humans just couldn’t touch without burning up, but Randy wanted to try, wanted it so badly he’d spent the last year chipping away at his own fortress until he’d met Benson’s pickaxe somewhere in the middle–closer to Randy, because Benson had definitely put in the brunt of the work. Delighted and terrified in equal measure to find that Benson was just as curious, just as tempted.
It wasn’t as hard as he expected to be naked in front of him. He felt shy and insecure and young; all long, pale, fawn-limbs and inexperience and an ever-present heat in his face. But it wasn’t impossible. And Benson made it worth the ache in his ego, watching him with those eyes.
He wasn’t allowed to touch, or stand up, or be near. Sit on the floor, don’t talk, don’t do nothing but what I tell you. Those were Randy’s orders, and he followed them like commandments. This was hallowed ground–more than that, a chamber of divinity, where one special boy took to his hands and knees and begged for mercy. Randy felt lucky to be granted entry; he wasn’t going to screw this up.
Benson stayed clothed, at the foot of his bed, feet planted firmly on the ground and knees parted to give Randy a better view of what he did in his lap. His eyes were restless most of the time, and then they’d fixate on some part of Randy’s body, making him squirm under all that attention. He’d only take his dick out of his pants after he’d gotten worked up from rubbing himself through the fabric. Randy’s mouth would water and his whole body would feel hot and cold at once, sweating from the heat and anticipation. He’d squeeze his thighs until his nails pinched into the skin, waiting for the go-ahead to touch himself, but it wouldn’t be for a while yet.
Patience is a virtue, Benson would drawl if he got too eager.
He could’ve said anything to Randy in that voice and it would make him groan, fingers twitching for relief.
Once Benson’s hand was working himself skin-to-skin, he’d give little commands here and there.
Show me your hole, sweetheart.
Fingers in your mouth. Get ‘em nice and wet.
On your knees, now. Show me.
Spread wide for me, wanna get a good look– That’s it, baby.
Good boy, Randy. You can touch your pretty little cock now.
Today he was unusually quiet. He’d made a lot of noise, but hardly said a word. Grunts and sighs, mostly. Randy drank them up like nepenthe.
After several long minutes of even less than that, Benson huffed, “Yeah,” under his breath. First thing he’s said in half an hour, since before they’d even started.
Immediately, some mangled whelp burst out of Randy’s chest, his dick throbbing and leaking all over itself against his belly just from a half-hearted word that wasn’t even meant for Randy to hear. Benson smiled a little at his reaction, just one corner of his mouth twitching up, laughing breathily through his nose.
Humiliating, deliciously humiliating.
Randy was sprawled on the floor, legs kicked out and open, hands scrunched in the short fibers of the carpet for purchase lest he fall off the Earth. That was just how it felt being the center of Benson’s attention. White knuckles and gritted teeth, all over-exposed like a Polaroid taken on a cloudless summer day. Randy wondered if that was how Benson always saw him, but maybe it was just how Benson made him feel.
Benson nodded shallow and quick, and Randy was so enraptured by the slide of foreskin over the head of Benson’s cock that he didn’t notice. Mouth parted, drool pooling under his tongue, nowhere in reality but between Benson’s legs.
Then, “Randy.”
His jaw shut with a snap, choking on his spit on the way down, back going rigid.
Benson chuckled some more and nodded again. “That’s sweet,” he said, serpentine off his tongue. “Go on, now. Wanna see you come.”
Randy scrambled for the little bottle of lube between them lying on the floor and poured himself plenty. The keening noise that left him at the first tug made his face burn even hotter, spreading over his ears and down to his chest, eyes flitting to all his favorite places on Benson’s body as he tried not to get too shy.
“Been a while, huh?”
Randy nodded, gulping, eating air. His hand shook over his length, eyes glued to the muscles and veins flexing in Benson’s arm as he fisted himself. He wanted that arm around his neck, bicep digging into his throat, cutting off oxygen. Wanted Benson’s palm over his mouth, telling him to hush so he doesn’t have to hurt him.
Wanted it to hurt anyway, even if Randy was good, especially if Randy was good.
Didn’t have a clue when Benson had stopped moving, so when he finally did get his head out of his ass long enough to see, Randy ripped his hands off his body and scrunched them back in the carpet, chest heaving.
“Sorry,” he whispered. He wanted to look down, get his eyes off Benson, be as small and nothing as possible, but something instinctual kept his gaze steady.
And he was glad for it, because Benson was smiling, easing Randy’s worry that he’d fucked up. Then that smile slid into something darker, heated and knowing and just the right amount of mean. He pointed down at the floor right between his legs and said, “Heel.”
Randy’s stomach flipped, dick twitching, lungs constricting. That was a new one. Benson seemed to have some sixth sense for riling Randy up, always knowing what buttons to press and when to press them.
Randy crawled on hand and knee, slow like he was creeping up on a prey animal, but with so much shame and anxiety clear as day that he must have looked more like a misbehaving dog.
“Sit on your knees,” Benson said once he got there, and Randy obeyed.
Benson let silence work for him, peering straight into Randy’s eyes while he tried not to squirm. It felt like hours before Benson wrapped his hand around his cock again, stroking lazily, smile faded but not gone.
Randy’s heart felt like it was going to explode. He’d never been this close, close enough to smell his sweat, hear the softer sounds of skin brushing skin. Head tilted back to keep his eyes on him, throat bared, Randy silently pleaded for a bite knowing full well he wouldn’t. Working himself up for nothing. Couldn’t help himself.
When you took all you could away from a person, the only thing left was hope.
Benson startled him from his fantasies of bruises and teeth and spit with a firm, “Open.”
He fought for air as he unhinged his jaw. This is it, he thought. He’s gonna let me taste him. He’s gonna use me. He’s gonna let me make him feel good.
It felt like peeling open a big concrete door, the effort it took, his tongue falling out just over his bottom lip slick with spit, panting like a mutt.
Benson growled somewhere deep inside and stroked himself a little harder, a little faster. “Good boy,” he praised.
Randy whined and blushed and wiggled on his heels, nails digging into his knees.
“Touch yourself.”
He didn’t bother trying not to look desperate. Saliva was already dripping from his mouth in streaks down his chin, off his tongue. There wasn’t anywhere to go from here but up so long as he did what he was told.
Tears welled up in his eyes, mostly from the blown out, heavily lidded eyes boring into his soul from above. God, Benson was handsome. God, Randy was getting close, wasn’t sure how to stop now that he’d started, been given this special view, front row seat to an obelisk of hedonism.
“Gonna come in your mouth,” Benson ground out, jaw tight and arm stiff as he pumped faster and harder still.
Randy moaned and nodded, the word please dripping from his eyes in liquid form, joining the spit making a mess down his neck. His tongue ached in the back of his mouth, tense like a rubber band, twitching, dry on top and soaked underneath. Had to keep telling himself to be good, keep it out, jaw wide. He had to keep jerking his hand away from his own cock, gasping, trembling as he waited for his orgasm to back away.
“Fuck,” Benson groaned, drawn out and weighty, cum shooting out onto Randy’s face, dripping off his nose and jaw, coating his tongue and slipping off right after.
Randy couldn’t take it anymore, thought he might come without even touching himself if he didn’t get there soon. He pouted up at Benson, whimpering, begging without words but with his whole body. No more room for embarrassment at how pathetic he looked or sounded, too full of Benson’s smell and heat and taste and image.
Just before he lost control but no sooner, Benson gave him a short, curt nod of approval, permission, and Randy swallowed and licked up as much of Benson’s come as he could find as he fell over the edge into bliss, swaying where he sat, gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t say a word.
Hand on his jaw, under his chin, thumb swiping at the mess there. Randy hummed and smiled helplessly, eyes closed and heart pounding loud from his dick to his ears.
“Shit, Randy,” Benson murmured, breathless, dazed. “Look at you.”
Randy shivered, leaning into the touch.