Chapter 13

13

Troy

This is nothappening.

I’m trying to keep my cool, but I’m freaking out.

Atlas is on his knees, and my fly is open, my cock so stiff in my pant leg that if he doesn’t whip it out soon, I’m gonna have to adjust.

On the way over to his place, I was on top of the world. Not only did I ace that fucking test, I won against Atlas, something that feels more extraordinary than any stupid grade. All our other bets were the playoffs, and this was our Super Bowl. He was finally going to chicken out, and once he did, no matter what bets we had from that point on, he’d always know I was the true victor between us.

I win, you lose, Atlas McCallister.

But when he pulls back the waistband of my briefs and pushes them down, my cock springs out, and I realize we’ve really gone too far this time.

“So you were just hard ’cause we were wrestling around?” he asks, his suspicious green gaze turning up to me, and for someone who just lost a bet, his mouth is twisted into a real cocky smirk.

Why the hell are my cheeks so warm? What do I have to be embarrassed about? He’s the straight guy with my shaft inches from his mouth.

He studies my cock.

Just stop pretending you’re gonna follow through with this.

He’s gotta back out soon because with my dick hanging in front of him, there’s only one thing left for him to do, and as much as I can’t deny my body wants it, I know this isn’t gonna happen.

He keeps studying me—maybe it’s been a few seconds, but it feels like minutes. I let out a nervous laugh. “See, I figured—”

There’s warmth on my dick. Not his mouth, his fingers. They slide around the base, his thumb cupping the bottom as he positions my cock like he’s about to actually follow through. His face moves toward my hip, and he angles my cock before I feel his warm tongue along the base of my shaft.

Part of me is thinking he’s taking this too far, but another part has to accept that, fuck, he hasn’t been all talk.

His tongue slides up to the head, tasting my flesh, and my cock pulses in his grip.

He snickers. “Looks like I’m off to a pretty good start,” he boasts.

I can’t think of a clever comeback. He clearly knows the effect he’s having on me, and it feels so good, I don’t give a fuck.

He licks back down to where he’s holding my cock at the base, then finds a new route back up the shaft again. When he returns to the head, he lingers, his tongue shifting side to side.

He’s toying with me, torturing me.

The electric charge his subtle movements send through me forces my jaw to drop, and I reach behind me, gripping the arm of the couch, partly to brace myself, partly to dig my nails into the cushioning because the tension he’s leaving me in is unbearable.

I’m waiting for him to make a smart-ass comment. To mock how he’s driving me crazy. Or to finally bow out and reveal this has all been some cruel prank, but then his lips slip around the head, traveling down my shaft.

Fuck.

As he takes me into his mouth, a surge of energy rushes up my body, swirling in my chest, and instinctively, I roll my head back, reveling in the sensation.

I’m so vulnerable and exposed, unable to hide how hungry my body is for this.

He glides back and forth, wetting my dick as he takes it for a test drive.

With his free hand, he grabs the band of my briefs and the side of my pants and pulls them to my ankles, then takes me even deeper into his mouth, like he’s exploring his limits.

When I gaze down at him, he pulls off my dick and glances up at me. I notice some precum trailing from my head to his lips as he smiles, and there’s no denying how pretty his face is…and how pretty it looks with a bit of me lingering on his lip.

Might be one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.

“Didn’t think I was gonna do that, did you?”

“I’m still not sure I believe you’re doing this,” I confess.

“Well, I gotta admit, you taste better than I thought you would.” He licks the precum off his bottom lip, and again, my cock expands in his hold.

He strokes gently.

“Now that I know what that feels like, you ready for me to blow your mind?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just locks his lips back around my shaft and gets to work, his tongue gliding along the base as he offers a little suction. My hips jerk forward as he takes me even farther back.

“Oh, A,” escapes my mouth as another surge of energy radiates through me. His tongue and mouth keep busy like he won’t be satisfied until he’s pleasured every nerve.

I’m fucking shaking, in sensory overload as his hand joins his efforts, syncing with his mouth as he explores his new talent…and yes, it is a fucking talent.

“That’s good, Atlas,” I admit.

I lean back more on the arm of the couch, and my hand gravitates to him, resting on his shoulder, my thumb rubbing his neck gently, some instinctive thank-you for his hard work.

Ripples of sensation course through me. My cheeks are getting even warmer; although now it’s not from embarrassment.

My balls tighten up.

Atlas places his free hand against the side of my thigh, gripping as his movements speed up.

Fuck, my cock’s like a rock inside his mouth. I don’t remember ever having been this stiff, and I never would have imagined my straight-maybe, not-so-straight-maybe, I-don’t-even-fucking-know stepbrother would be the one driving me crazy like this.

As he picks up the pace, another burst of energy moves from my lower back to my cock, a familiar urgency.

His mouth drops my dick once again, and he jerks it with his hand as he buries his face against my balls, his tongue even more eagerly exploring them than he had my cock.

He’s an animal, just going on lust and instinct, feral in his desire as he acquaints himself with my body.

I slide back onto the arm of the couch, relaxing my ass against it as he probes, his tongue familiarizing itself with my flesh, hot breath rushing against my skin.

“That’s right,” he says. “Just sit back and let me do the work. You won, I lost. That’s how it goes.”

There’s something almost sinister in the way he says that, like he has wicked plans for my dick. He shifts closer, and I can feel his legs pushing my pants, still locked around my ankles, until they’re against the couch.

Soon, his lips are back around my shaft, syncing with his hand again.

Feels like Atlas’s mouth is built for my cock, like every movement he makes is somehow coded for this as waves of pleasure shoot through me, converging at the crown of my head.

My body reverberates. I lie back on the arm of the couch, enjoying the smacks and clicks of his lips as he savors my dick, alternating between sucking and licking. Life is rarely kind, so when it is, I feel like I have to soak it up, absorb as much of the experience as I can.

I guess Atlas isn’t about to let me question his commitment to his work because he finally releases his grip on my cock and hooks his arms under my thighs, forcing my cock to the back of his throat.

As he rests a hand on my abs, I run my fingers against the side of his head, caressing his cheek with my thumb. And as though my encouragement fuels him even more, he keeps going at my cock like he’s got something to prove, taking it as far back as he can. Which I have to admit is an impressive skill and not something most guys would attempt, let alone if they didn’t have experience with a cock.

“Fuck, Atlas,” I call out, throwing my head back against the couch, lost in the sensations overtaking me. Lost to sparking nerves and gasps as though I’m coming up for air as my little Titan worships my cock with his mouth.

I’m so into the experience that when it feels like some of my senses return to me, I realize I’m running my fingers through his hair, massaging the back of his head.

I’m climbing quickly, my body pushing for release, when he lets my dick, wet with his saliva, fall against my abs, then runs his tongue along the bottom, up and down…like it’s his goal to torture me, which is apt.

“Tell me how wrong you were,” he says, his hot breath slamming against my dick.

“What?” I’m barely able to think straight.

“You thought I’d be shit at this, but I’m not. I wanna hear you admit it.”

I chuckle. “You’re better than you have any right to be,” is as much as I’m willing to give him. I gaze down at him. He wears a sneaky expression as he continues running his tongue along my cock…just tormenting me.

“Don’t play. I told you I’d blow you, but I never said I’d let you finish.” He continues teasing with his tongue.

“Atlas, I’m right on the edge. I’ll just jerk it off.”

I reach for my cock, but he slaps my hand away.

“Fucking ass.”

“No,” he insists, “do what I say.”

“Don’t be mean, please.” I’m fucking begging him.

“Then be honest. I just want the truth.”

“You are fucking good at it. You’re too good,” I confess because he deserves to know I was wrong to ever question him. He’s earned that. “I was wrong. You were right.”

I say it quickly, like we’re in a hostage situation, and fortunately, he doesn’t let me suffer anymore. He takes my cock back into his mouth, going back at it just like before. Relief rushes through me as my body continues soaring, the urgency returning.

He tightens his arms around my thighs and rocks his head back and forth like now that he’s had a taste, he fucking needs this as much as I do. His wild, generous, unpredictable tongue seems determined to get me to the end.

A familiar rush of adrenaline in my hips offers me a warning. “Atlas, you have to stop now. I’m gonna… I’m gonna come.”

But he keeps going for a few more seconds. Like he can’t help himself.

Never imagined my straight stepbrother so hungry for cock.

My body’s already twitching and vibrating. I’m about to warn him again when he finally swaps his mouth with his hand, jerking me as he gazes up, a determined expression on his face.

“See? I’m a fast learner.” He takes deep breaths, like he’s recovering from the workout.

“You were right, you were right,” I surrender again.

There’s an eagerness in his expression. Maybe because he loves when I admit that I’m wrong. Maybe because he’s eager to see my face when I come for him.

For a guy I can act so guarded around, I feel totally exposed, so vulnerable, at his fucking mercy as he fists my dick, moving his hand as though he’s learned my preferred rhythm in the short time he had to study my body.

“Come on. I wanna see who’s got the bigger load,” he teases, and pressure rises from my balls, the sense of urgency exploding through me as I collapse against the arm of the couch. My muscles tense, my face locks up as I shoot in ropes across my abs. I curse through gritted teeth as he drains the last bit of cum, still stroking me as my body erupts into a series of trembles and twitches, my thoughts scattered, lost in the last stretch of the fireworks show that’s still sparking through me.

When the adrenaline and chaos settle, my chest rises and falls. Feels like I’m recovering from an intense jog.

I gaze down at Atlas, who looks smugger than I’ve ever seen him in his life, and again, I don’t care because of what I got out of it.

“Not a bad load,” he says with a wink.

I sit up, surely unable to disguise how shocked and impressed I am.

I notice some of my cum on his chin. I wish I could leave it. Let him walk around with me on his face, marking his body with a part of me. But I wouldn’t just want him wearing me; I’d want him to be proud of the way I’ve stained his body.

Where the fuck did that thought come from?

I shake it off and run my thumb across his chin, collecting and displaying it for him. “Pretty as that face is, it looks even prettier with my cum on it.” I wish I were kidding, and I’m glad he doesn’t seem to realize how serious I am.

“I bet it does. And I don’t wanna brag, but I think I’ll give myself an A plus,” he says with another wink.

And damn, he’s got me laughing. After all that, I’m fucking laughing?

I don’t understand what’s going on right now, but after what he just did to me, I feel too fucking good to give a fuck. The only thing I’m sure of is that Atlas’s hard-on while we were wrestling probably wasn’t a rage boner.