This is a continuing story, and should probably be read with the other chapters...
*****
I slam Twink, whose name is actually Mason, against the wall, but not too hard. I cover his mouth with mine, owning it, probing forcefully, taking his breath. He moans into my mouth, running his hands along my arms, thrusting his hips toward mine.
We're in my room, which faces the front, a huge bay window offering views of the twinkling city lights. The only view I'm interested in right now though is directly in front of me. Mason is very cute, shorter than me by a few inches, with wide hazel eyes and smooth skin.
He parts his full lips slightly, running a small pink tongue over them in anticipation as I look down at him. I run my fingers through his dark hair, holding the back of his head as I pull him toward me again, breathing in his fresh skin, once again giving in to my lust as I plunge my tongue into his receptive mouth.
Finally, I pull away from him, stripping my top off in one move and kicking my boots off. I unzip his top, pushing it away from his narrow shoulders until it hits the floor. He grabs me again, pressing his lips to my neck, running down and nibbling at the sensitive dip in my collar bone. He looks up at me as he pops the button of my pants.
"You're so hot," he sighs, dropping his head to plant kisses down my pecs, flicking his tongue over my nipple rings, making me shiver. I lean back a little, watching as he traverses down my body, leaving cool trails of moisture. He runs his fingers across my abs and down, gently pushing on my glittering dermal studs, sapphire blue to go with my eyes, pushing his tongue against the matching gem nestled in my belly button. I always love the extra attention these adornments get and I respond by pushing back with my body, encouraging him.
He keeps going, kissing down the v on my hip, sliding my pants down as he goes. My cock is half-hard, filling with arousal, and he gasps as he comes face-to-face with it. Flattering.
"It's so big," he breathes, before attacking it enthusiastically, swirling his tongue over the head and sucking the tip hard into his wet mouth. He's good at this, and it isn't long before I'm fully hard, probing the back of his mouth with my thick seven and a half inches. He licks and sucks along the sides and I hold his head, guiding his movement. I'm feeling good, but I want more.
I pull him up, turning him with one fluid move and pushing him back to the bed. I yank his pants down, eagerness overtaking me as I dive down to engulf his hardness in one move. He cries out at the intensity and I'm a little smug as I work his five-inch cock, using the pointed tip of my tongue to increase his sensations, while the flattened back of my tongue massages the sensitive head.
"Ooh, Grayson, you'll make me cum too fast if you keep that up," he giggles.
I concede, and give him some lazy licks as I push his legs back, revealing his muscled pucker, already beginning to relax in arousal. I pass over his smooth ball sack with long laps, steadily heading for my prize. I flatten my tongue and use it to bathe the area in moisture, swirling it around and seeing it glisten. Mason is writhing under my hands and I push his legs firmly apart, giving me all the access I desire. He moans as I focus my attention on the wrinkled ring, running the tip of my tongue around the ridges, listening to his pants of desperation.
I know he wants me to go further, and I do, pushing forward, breaking through the sphincter with ease. I push forward harder now, burying my face, using my lips to apply pressure outside while my tongue does its job inside. God, I love listening to the adorable mewls that come from a guy's mouth while he's being single-mindedly rimmed, there's nothing like it.
I could do this all night, but my cock is starting to demand some attention. I stroke the shaft, rubbing pre-cum over the head with my thumb. I want it now. I gently release Mason's legs and grab a condom and lube from my nightstand.
"Lie on your stomach," I instruct him, and he obliges instantly, eager to please, or maybe just eager to get fucked.
I push his rounded cheeks apart as I push forward with my lubed cock. He accepts the head with ease and I slide forward slowly but forcefully, feeling his passage stretch around me. I can hear him panting through the sensation and I pause, halfway in.
"You okay Mason?" I ask.
"Mmhmm," he responds, his eyelids fluttering, "feels so good. But big, take it slow."
I feel a little guilty. I normally spend a lot longer getting a guy prepared. Mason was good, and I think I kind of assumed he had the experience to not need that, but it was selfish of me to not do it anyway. Plus I'm kind of out of practice at the moment. I slow down, massaging his ass and lower back as I very gently pull back and push forward, letting him get used to the feeling.
It takes a while, and the gentle friction feels erotically frustrating, but finally he has taken all of me. My studs are pressing against his ass and I can feel my balls resting on his. I hold my lower body still, leaning forward to kiss and nibble at his pale skin, while he becomes accustomed.
His pants become calmer and he begins to breath normally again. I feel him shift under me, pushing up to let me know he's ready. I start to move, leaning my weight on my arms as I saw slowly in and out. He's moving faster now, bucking up harder, and I make sure I give him space to move at his own pace, just enjoying the feeling of his ass sliding along my shaft. We move in concert for a while until Mason uses his arms to push his body so his hips are high, presented to me.
"Fuck me hard," he growls.
I don't need telling twice. I slam into him before pulling almost fully out and repeating. He's swearing in pleasure, spreading his legs wider on the bed. I pull him up a little and adjust my position so I'm smashing into his prostate. I know I've hit the spot when he lifts his head and lets out a low wail of ecstasy. I make sure to keep the rhythm, hitting the spot over and over again until I feel him tense under me just before he announces that he's cumming.
When he's finished I gently force him back down again, bringing his legs together under me and I move so I won't keep hitting his sensitive gland. I watch myself sliding in and out, loving the erotic sight. He expertly ripples his muscles, using them to milk my cock, taking me over the edge. I drop and bite at his shoulder as I release, changing it to a more sensitive kiss when I'm complete.
*****
I wake early. Mason is sleeping quietly next to me, his pretty face bathed in gentle light. My room faces west, so I don't bother with curtains, preferring the normal daylight to wake me, as it rarely gets too bright. I feel slightly rough, but I have to get to work. We're close to finishing a big project and I'm putting even more hours than usual in.
I walk into the kitchen after showering and changing in the main bathroom. I didn't want to wake Mason, though I'm not sure whether that's for his sake or mine. Andy's up already, he'll be about to head out to work himself, and he gestures toward the freshly brewed coffee. I pour some into a travel mug.
"So, do we have a guest?" he asks.
I nod, taking a sip of the reviving bean juice.
"You feeling better then?" he asks. "A bit more like yourself?"
I shrug. A little from column A, a little from column B.
"Listen, I have to get to work. Will you call him an Uber from my account if he gets up before you leave? I've left him a note."
"What? 'Thanks for the memories'?" Andy grins.
He's just poking fun, but he's not far wrong, and I feel guilty again.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Andy asks, and he's serious now.
I raise my eyebrows, confused about which of my many faults he's referring to.
"It's pretty obvious that you want to settle down. I mean good friends are a lot, but they aren't everything."
"What do you mean? What makes you think I want to settle down?"
I'm genuinely surprised now. I don't think I've ever suggested such a thing.
"Er, there's about a million clues. For a start, why did you stay with Tom for almost a year, when that was clearly a terrible relationship and you were both so clearly unsuited for each other."
Yay, blunt friends.
"We weren't unsuited," I insist, though I'm lying at least a little bit.
We were pretty incompatible and, even though it was Tom who did the dumping, I do have a tough time justifying why I stayed with him so long. I know my brain never worked properly when he had me in his arms but that's not much in the way of justification.
"And why are you so into Spencer, who is unavailable and about to settle down," he emphasized the last four words, as though he'd just discovered the meaning of life.
"Okay buddy," I clapped him on the shoulder, "I appreciate you looking out for me, but you don't have to worry. I'm not some lovelorn princess, desperate in a tower. I'm not going to do anything stupid about Spencer and I'm not going to dive into some unhealthy relationship. I'll be sure to run the next one by you."
*****
I know one of the reasons my friends worry about me is because they know I hate my job. The way they get all up in my business is their gentle way of mocking me for not breaking free from it whilst making it clear that they won't let me wallow.
I was headhunted out of college for an awesome start up - I'm in tech - and I loved it. The rush of developing new ideas, working in an environment full of other young and enthusiastic forward thinkers. I did well, got promoted, more work, more responsibility, but I still loved it.
Then the fast expanding start-up was swallowed by one of the big boys and the atmosphere changed. I made good money from stock options, but the expectations became more pressured - business-minded instead of development-minded. Four years after the takeover I'm still there, VP of Development, quick advancement usual in our field. I make good money and I'm very good at my job, but I hate the cold corporate nature of it. Turns out I'm more of a free spirit than I ever could have guessed.
I leave Andy to his coffee and head to the office. I'm busy. We're just finishing up a development release, and the rounds of testing and amending are all consuming. I have a great team and everyone is flat out, so it should be complete within the next two or three weeks.
I message Spence, see if he wants to catch up over a drink or lunch, but I don't get a response. I'm not worried though, I know the research team he leads are also finishing up a big project, so he must be flat out too.
But then, I don't hear from Spence for the rest of the week or over the weekend, which I spend mainly at work. I send him a few messages, though I don't want to be pushy.
Finally, on Monday, I head over to his department to find out what's going on. I see him through the glass wall of the project room, where the team are clearly brainstorming some idea. He looks great, as usual. He always dresses a little smarter than he needs to and is wearing black pants and a slim-fitting blue-check shirt. His muscles move under it; God, he's got nice shoulders, and I'm not surprised to see an attractive young woman who looks way more interested in that than their work.
I knock on the door and walk in.
"Hey, Spencer, can I borrow you for a minute?"
A look of annoyance crosses his face, but he shrugs and follows me out of the room. I'm conscious that his team can see me through the glass wall and try to keep a cheerful and professional look on my face.
"Have you been avoiding me? You haven't replied to a single message."
