Sex in C Major

But it was too difficult. Daz's thrusts were deep. The head of his cock grazed Stefan's throat with every thrust. Stefan's lips couldn't close; he tried to squeeze his jaw tighter without biting, and had his hair savagely twisted. He clutched at the denim, trying to slow the movement, but Daz was too tall and Stefan stretched too high on his knees to counteract him.

Then both hands were at Stefan's neck, and his head was pushed as far down onto that cock as it could go, taking it to the root, the shaft throbbing and like silk-wrapped steel in his throat-

Stefan choked, coughing. He hacked as hot liquid burned in his throat and stomach and lungs. It spilled out in thick streams over his chin and bare knees, dripping to the floor.

Then he was shoved away, his head batted to the side like it meant nothing. He crumpled to the cold, dirty tiles, raking in air past the cum in his throat.

"You'll need to learn to do a lot better than that," Daz said, ripping toilet roll out of the holder and wiping off his dick.

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Next time, I expect you to swallow it all."

"Yes, Sir."

"Be grateful I don't make you lick it off the tiles."

"Yes, Sir."

"Open up."

Stefan was dragged back to his knees by the hair, and the soiled tissue shoved between his teeth.

Then he froze.

Those bright blue eyes were staring at him critically, from only inches away. Stefan sagged in Daz's grip, spellbound. There were galaxies in those eyes. Entire oceans and worlds. It was like staring into the abyss-and the abyss stared right back, daring Stefan to jump. Daring him to find himself there.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, Sir," Stefan whispered around the tissue, his own voice sounding so very far away.

"Good."

Daz patted his cheek, almost affectionately, then tucked himself into his jeans, unlocked the door, and walked out.

For the longest time, Stefan simply knelt there, cum cooling on his skin, mouth swelling from its punishing use. He didn't care. All he could see was the abyss in those blue, blue eyes, and all he could feel was the burn of pleasure and contentment in his veins.

He didn't even think to lock the bathroom door. 8

It wasn't enough.

Stefan couldn't get the feel of that thick cock in his mouth out of his mind. The way it had forced his jaw open, the way it had pressed into his throat, the way he'd struggled to breathe around it...

The way he'd been naked on his knees, his head held in Daz's hands, and yet he'd been as pinned as if he'd been held face-down on the bed in the spare room and fucked dry with it.

It had immobilised him.

And it had felt so-so difficult and so challenging and so amazing.

And it wasn't enough.

It hadn't hurt enough. It hadn't left marks. He could feel the phantom memory left behind, but there was nothing to poke at and probe. It didn't hurt to move his jaw or chew the way it would hurt to sit or twist if Daz had bent him over the toilet and fucked him with nothing but the hand soap for lube and no preparation.

And Stefan wanted it to hurt.

He wanted to feel it for days, not minutes. It wasn't enough.

So it was barely seven in the evening when he called, and the first words out of his mouth were: "Fuck me."

"Excuse me?"

"Please, Sir. I want you to fuck me. Properly."

"Fucking your face not enough for you?"

"I want it to hurt," Stefan begged. He could hear the shameless whine in his voice, and yet with the memory of Daz's cum leaking over his lips and staining his tongue with that bitter taste, he didn't care. "I want to feel it for days, I want you to punish me, really punish me, please."

There was a short pause.

Then...

"Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock sharp at the house."

And Daz hung up.

****

Stefan arrived at the bus stop on the narrow street of terraced houses by seven thirty.

He'd barely slept. His dick was sore from overuse during the night, and his skin burned with the need to be touched. He'd go off the minute Daz touched him. And then he'd beg for more. He'd probably scream the place down. He'd have to be gagged-oh God, maybe Daz would use that steel gag he'd threatened Stefan with the other day...

The cold air did nothing to cool his skin as he waited at the stop. His face was flushed; his dick would be even more so. He felt like he couldn't quite breathe. He'd smoked the last of his weed last night, and it had done nothing to take the edge off. He needed this. He needed Daz, right now, and he knew he'd do anything, absolutely anything, that Daz demanded.