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Lars and Brian. BDSM schmoop.
It's just one finger, and it shouldn't feel as good as it does, but Lars's hands are cuffed behind him, and he doesn't know how long it's been since he's been touched by anything but the concrete under his knees.
The finger is slick, tracing a line up his cock. Lars schools himself not to react, but he can't help an indrawn breath, cut short in a shock to his lungs. He can't even feel how close Brian is, so he thinks maybe Brian is somewhere in front, leaning forward and holding his breath. Brian can come from nowhere, when he wants to, and no air currents gave Lars a clue that this one teasing finger was anywhere close.
The finger is gone, but more clues come. Lars can hear Brian get up, the grunt that says that his knees are bothering him (serve him right for sitting still so long), and feel the air move, scented with motor oil and tools, as Brian kneels behind, close enough to touch, but not touching.
"You're hard for me," Brian says, not close enough for Lars to feel his breath. "You've sat there for fifteen minutes with nothing, and you're hard for me." Lars doesn't answer. If he could speak the answer would be something like, Fucking dumbass. Of course I am. But his sarcasm isn't the right answer to what he hears in Brian's voice. "Can I get you off with this finger?"
Lars tucks his head. He doesn't know the answer, but guesses that if Brian asked him to come that way, he could probably do it. The air and sounds tell him that Brian has gotten up, is moving, rummaging, arranging, and then Brian pulls Lars back so that he's sitting, sprawled back against Brian's chest with a towel between his ass and the concrete. "I can do this to you," Brian says, his one finger circling the head of Lars's cock. "I can give you this and take this from you." The finger moves in lines from base to tip, rarely in the same place, but always on the shaft, using the flare of Lars's glans as the stopping point. Lars let himself relax back against Brian, let the lines of touch build into lines of heat, let the warmth of Brian's chest and the touch of his finger become everything.
It goes slow, and long, and almost silent, until Lars's breath becomes ragged. Brian moans with Lars when Lars comes, straining his hips to try to get more from the single line of touch. The sound mixes with Lars's need, with the long, slow sensation of every distinct spilling. He feels his own semen hitting his chest and then flowing down his cock, every millimeter of movement distinct, clear.
It's a few long minutes before Brian looses the cuffs and blindfold, and puts his arms around Lars. "You okay?"
Lars nods against Brian's chest, reaching up and back for Brian's head and looking around the garage, just to orient himself again. He doesn't want to talk, though. He's done with talking for the day.
"How'd your defense go? Okay?" Lars nods again. Brian says, "Good. Let's get cleaned up. I have reservations for us at Lux in Georgetown, to celebrate." Brian pushes Lars gently forward, gets up, and offers his hand to help Lars get to his feet. "Congratulations Dr. Dahl."
It's just one finger, and it shouldn't feel as good as it does, but Lars's hands are cuffed behind him, and he doesn't know how long it's been since he's been touched by anything but the concrete under his knees.
The finger is slick, tracing a line up his cock. Lars schools himself not to react, but he can't help an indrawn breath, cut short in a shock to his lungs. He can't even feel how close Brian is, so he thinks maybe Brian is somewhere in front, leaning forward and holding his breath. Brian can come from nowhere, when he wants to, and no air currents gave Lars a clue that this one teasing finger was anywhere close.
The finger is gone, but more clues come. Lars can hear Brian get up, the grunt that says that his knees are bothering him (serve him right for sitting still so long), and feel the air move, scented with motor oil and tools, as Brian kneels behind, close enough to touch, but not touching.
"You're hard for me," Brian says, not close enough for Lars to feel his breath. "You've sat there for fifteen minutes with nothing, and you're hard for me." Lars doesn't answer. If he could speak the answer would be something like, Fucking dumbass. Of course I am. But his sarcasm isn't the right answer to what he hears in Brian's voice. "Can I get you off with this finger?"
Lars tucks his head. He doesn't know the answer, but guesses that if Brian asked him to come that way, he could probably do it. The air and sounds tell him that Brian has gotten up, is moving, rummaging, arranging, and then Brian pulls Lars back so that he's sitting, sprawled back against Brian's chest with a towel between his ass and the concrete. "I can do this to you," Brian says, his one finger circling the head of Lars's cock. "I can give you this and take this from you." The finger moves in lines from base to tip, rarely in the same place, but always on the shaft, using the flare of Lars's glans as the stopping point. Lars let himself relax back against Brian, let the lines of touch build into lines of heat, let the warmth of Brian's chest and the touch of his finger become everything.
It goes slow, and long, and almost silent, until Lars's breath becomes ragged. Brian moans with Lars when Lars comes, straining his hips to try to get more from the single line of touch. The sound mixes with Lars's need, with the long, slow sensation of every distinct spilling. He feels his own semen hitting his chest and then flowing down his cock, every millimeter of movement distinct, clear.
It's a few long minutes before Brian looses the cuffs and blindfold, and puts his arms around Lars. "You okay?"
Lars nods against Brian's chest, reaching up and back for Brian's head and looking around the garage, just to orient himself again. He doesn't want to talk, though. He's done with talking for the day.
"How'd your defense go? Okay?" Lars nods again. Brian says, "Good. Let's get cleaned up. I have reservations for us at Lux in Georgetown, to celebrate." Brian pushes Lars gently forward, gets up, and offers his hand to help Lars get to his feet. "Congratulations Dr. Dahl."