Parker

This erotic story excerpt by Jack Harbon from Parker was originally self-published and is the Winner in the Good Sex Awards Best LGBTQI Category.

Parker

He smells like my body wash, and that only makes me harder. Not in any conceited way. Him wearing my old shirt and using my soap only further cements it in my head that he’s mine. That he’s mine to protect and please. “Are you proud of what you did to me?”

“So proud,” he laughs again, the sweet noise cut off by a groan when I sink my teeth into his shoulder. It’s not enough to truly hurt or do any damage, and I let up almost immediately, testing the waters.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He rubs against me again, and this time, I can feel his erection. I recall the heat of it in my palm, the way every little movement I made left him trembling, and I’m drunk with that power once more.

“What do you want, Trey?” I ask against his ear, my cock throbbing in my pants as he rolls his hips forward against it. “You want that?”

“Mhm.”

That’s not enough for me, though. I pull back and take him by the chin, looking down into eyes wide with anticipation. “No,” I say, shaking his head. “No, no, no.”

“No?”

“I want you to use your words and tell me what you want. Everything you want from me. How I should touch you. How I should kiss you. How I should fuck you.”

His breath hitches, and the slightest hint of a sly smile appears. “Are you going to fuck me, Parker?”

“Are you going to beg for it?”

Without hesitation, he answers. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll fuck you every way you want.”

“I want it like this,” he says, brushing my hair from my face to look into my eyes. “I want you on top of me. I want to feel you like that. Inside me and all around me. Can I have that? Please? Please, Parker?”

With the way every word comes out soft and him staring up through his lashes at me, I’d be out of my goddamn mind to turn him down. I can’t say no. I don’t want to say no. With Trey, it’s only yes. Only a resounding, screaming yes. Yes, he can have anything he wants, any fucking way he wants it. It’s only a matter of how fast I can get my drawstring untied and my shorts pulled down.

I kiss down his body, sliding his shirt up to expose his bare chest. He’s the strangest combination of soft and solid, warm skin that I lick, stretching over tight, firm muscles. When I make it to his hips, I drag my nose down that deep V, glowing from the way he trembles.

If I weren’t so high from this control, I might be trembling just the same. He’s intoxicating, and he warms me from the inside like top-shelf liquor.

Easing his underwear down his thighs, I look up at him as I pull the fabric around his ankles and drop it to the floor below. He parts his legs then, one foot planted on the ground and the other up on the cushions of the sofa.

“You sure she’s not coming home tonight?” he asks, visibly nervous. His flitting gaze lands on the door to the shed.

“She’s out for the night,” I chuckle lightly, leaning in to press kisses to his thigh. It’s covered in light blond hair that tickles my lip. Any other time, I might have been weirded out by it, put off by the new experience, but tonight feels different. It’s something I’ve accounted for, the difference between his body and any woman from my past. Something I’ve anticipated feeling.

When his worried voice softens out into steady panting breaths, I drag my lips higher to the fold of his leg. His smell is masculine and heady, fresh like soap with a hint of his natural musk. It’s even more intense when I come face to face with my old friend. Without hesitation, I wrap my lips around him, sucking the head just enough.

His taste is distinct and not at all what I expected. Salty and thick, but not enough to put me off. If anything, it makes me suck more, working my lips further down his cock. It takes a moment to get used to the feeling, and just as I get comfortable, Trey lays a hand on my head. Instincts say to pull back or knock it aside, but I let him have it. I want him to feel what I felt that night in my bedroom with him on his knees in front of me.

I want him to tremble from the ways I touch and lick and suck him.

I don’t get very far before I have to pull back, but it’s not enough to deter me. Especially not when I look up to find him staring at me.

He cups my face in his hands and smiles and nods. “You’re doing so good, Park.”

Shit.

That encouragement…

It makes every insecurity disappear. It doesn’t matter that this is my first time doing anything like this. I don’t care how I look—what kind of ugly faces I make. What matters more than anything else is the way he feels. The way he writhes on the sofa when I stroke the underside of his prick with my tongue. The arch of his back when I manage to get him nearly all the way down without choking. He’s a work of art, my David.

I treat him the way he treated me in my bedroom, with near disrespect. I tease the head, tapping it against my tongue to taste the elixir I’ve suddenly become obsessed with. I nuzzle against the base of him, lapping at his balls in my own form of revenge. He has to squirm, just like me. He has to know how dangerous he is and what happens to boys who don’t play nice or fair.

“I—” he gasps, tightening his grip on my hair. “You gotta slow down. I’m close…” His warning comes out in huffs, and for a second, I imagine ignoring his warnings. I could get at least two orgasms out of him. The one reason I choose to hold back is because I want to feel him clench around me when he finishes. I want to feel and see his orgasm when he finally falls apart entirely.

“Fine,” I say. “Mercy. For now.”

“For now,” he repeats, swiping the corner of my mouth.

“No mercy when I’m inside you.”

“Ooh,” he says with an eye roll. “Scary.”

It’ll be so fucking sweet making him cry when he shoots his load.

Not giving him time to hit me with any more sarcasm, I force myself from the couch. “Be back.”

“You better.”

Heading inside, I kick myself for not being better prepared. Typically, I keep a condom in my wallet, and up until recently, I’ve never had to worry about travel-sized lube. Yet another thing Trey has changed since his arrival. In my bedroom drawer, I grab the necessary supplies and hurry back downstairs. I step over Yoshi in his bed of old blankets and head out.

I return from the house quickly, the front of my shorts tenting shamelessly. I haven’t moved like this in years, but there’s a pep in my step. I just gotta remember to keep this place stocked with more supplies the next time we end up here. I pause, smiling to myself as I kick off my shorts and work a condom over my dick.

Next time.

We haven’t even really begun, and I’m thinking about the next time. But really, there’s no fucking way there won’t be. Not when I’ve dumped more loads into my bedside Kleenex thinking about Trey than I have anyone else before. No, there’s no way in Hell that I’ll be satisfied with just one time with this boy.

“What’re you smiling about?” he asks, absently drawing circles on the floor with his toe. He tilts his chin up and narrows his eyes at me, and I can’t help but imagine capturing this moment in a picture. Maybe even a painting. One leg up on the sofa, his other resting, cock laying heavy against his thigh and eyes full of curious suspicion.

“You want the honest answer?” I ask, approaching him. I open and close the cap to the lube as I walk.

“Always.”

“I’m thinking about all the different times I’m going to fuck you.”

“Ah,” he says. He reaches for the pillows on the other side of the couch and lays them back behind his head. “How many times are you thinking?”

“At least twenty to thirty. Not tonight, of course.”

“Probably don’t have that in you, huh, old man?”

My eyes go wide. “Careful now. I don’t wanna gag you with your own underwear.”

Trey gives me a pouty look and says, “Shame.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Ignoring that painfully sexy smirk Trey has on, I nudge his legs further apart and kneel down on the couch between them. In one quick jerk, I have him on his back, hips raised enough to grant me access. Trey remains quiet until I work a good amount of cool lube against him. That’s when he lets out a shuddered breath and bites down on his bottom lip.

To keep from hurting him, I start with just one finger, sliding inside of him without much resistance on his part. Trey’s eyes close, focused on relaxing, but it’s not enough. I don’t want this to hurt for him. Not at all. I lean in close, kissing over his neck and shoulders.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah… Just wait a second.”

Following directions, I don’t move an inch, letting him get used to me. When he opens his eyes and nods, I continue the journey, only adding a second finger once he’s approved of it. It’s a painstaking process, but I can wait—at least, parts of me can. My dick throbs painfully, jumping with eagerness to feel everything my index and middle fingers have.

Once the third finger has time to stretch him, he looks at me to say that he’s ready. Ready to really, truly feel me.

My movements are slower than I might normally be. Any other instance, I wouldn’t have to go slow. It would be an easy ordeal. But the speed of my movement makes this all that much more worth it. To feel him stretch around me, squeezing the ever-loving fuck out of my dick. To listen to the shuddering noise of air escaping him. To watch his face relax once I’m fully inside of him. It’s so fucking worth it.

It takes a few minutes for him to fully loosen up enough for me to move my hips without eliciting a noise of discomfort, but I’m more than happy to go at his speed. It’s a treat to watch him finally open his eyes and look up at me. He steadies himself and nods. That little bit of permission is all I need, and I slide my hands down to his hips to hold him as I ease back.

Slick heat strokes my length with every fluid movement of my hips. Were I less experienced, it would be enough to make me come immediately. He’s tighter than anything else I’ve felt, and in combination with the way he holds onto the couch, arms back to reveal his triceps and accentuate his perfectly sculpted body, I’m hooked on something greater than any drug.

Trey’s my fucking wet dream, and blowing my load now would be the biggest mistake of my life.

“Yes,” he breathes, my hips bringing out a groan from him. He reaches forward, holding my shoulders as I build the speed up. He can take it, and I want more. I want to hear him whimper for me, begging for me not to stop. Not to let him get off this ride. It’s not enough for me just to make him breathe out his approval. I need more.

I get it by jerking fast, slamming into him hard enough to shake the sofa.

“God, yes, Park,” he whines, that cocky tone from before nowhere to be seen.

Trey drags his palms from my shoulders to my back, clinging to me as I fuck him. The harder and deeper I fill him, those fingertips become fingernails, each digging perfect, tiny crescent moons into the ink on my back. It’s the combination of pleasure and pain that makes the hair on my arms stand up.

“Fuck,” he cries, and I can tell I’ve hit something good inside him. All at once, I’ve found my target. I brush curls from his eyes to get a better look, watching that perfect face of his contort and scrunch with pleasure.

Over and over, relentlessly and mercilessly, I attack that spot, groaning as my boy arches his head back. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and I lean in to kiss him, dragging my tongue over his sweat-slick skin. I want everything from him, every delicious reaction that he’s willing to give me. I want to consume him, to overwhelm him and bring him further than anyone else has.

Jesus, he’s so good. Sweet like Mama’s homemade pecan pie and filthy like the fantasies I’ve kept secret my whole life.

When he looks up at me, I see a flash of pleasure that almost looks like pain. His brows have formed slopes, and his mouth is parted, words suspended in his throat as a desperate whimper manages to slip around them. I place a hand on his throat, the very same way I did the first time I laid eyes on him, and I fuck him with the very same intensity. Like he’s a danger to me.

And he is.

He’s a danger to my sanity, to the productivity in my life. He’s a danger to the carefully crafted walls I’ve set up, but in this moment, I want him to break it all down. I want him to see me fully, see what he’s done to me without even trying. Head swimming, I hold him by the neck and thrust quicker, skin against skin, me against him.

“I—” He starts to speak, but he cuts himself off, letting out a cry of joy that has him cupping his own mouth to quiet it.

I pull his hand free, letting it fall to his side. “Don’t,” I tell him, leaning in for a kiss. Lips brushing against his, I say, “Let me hear all the sweet sounds you make, Trey.”

“I’m close,” he huffs, eyes fluttering shut. He hasn’t even touched himself once, and he’s already close. A challenge pops into my mind. I want him to come just as hard as he did in my hand, this time without my touch. This time, he’ll find that ecstasy from my cock alone.

“Do it, then,” I order between even more kisses. “Don’t hold anything back from me. Give it all to me. Show me how good I make you feel. Let me see you come undone.”

Like it’s the most strenuous feat in the world, he parts his eyes and looks up at me. The soft, doe-eyed expression he wore before is nowhere to be seen. Trey stares at me with almost violent intensity, his eyebrows knit together and his bottom lip trapped between his perfect teeth. He takes each snap of my hips like a world-renowned champ. Like he was made for this—for me. To handle all the ways I can make him feel this good.

“Fuck,” he says, nearly grimacing. “Fuck, Park. I’m gonna—ah…”

And he does, firing off like he’s been saving up for weeks. It’s a mess, honestly, the way he coats his chest with his load. With his—my—shirt up to his neck, his entire body is exposed to the results. It runs down in rivulets along his tight abdomen, and the various pieces of art sprinkled down his chest. Without breaking eye contact, Trey drags his hand through the mess, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to clean them.

Somehow, the sight is better than watching him lick his cum from my fingers.

I trap him in a deep kiss, determined to taste him on his own tongue. It’s a messy kiss, and for a moment, I lose myself in it, my hips moving on autopilot. I thrust hard against him, hard enough to draw out little grunts from Trey each time our bodies connect. When he holds me close and sucks my tongue, that’s when I feel the rumbling start.

It’s in the pit of my stomach, and my heart aches as it builds. It’s right there, so close that I can nearly taste it, but I almost don’t want it to end. I don’t want to hit that peak and fall into this ocean with him. I don’t have much of a choice, though. As if he can sense that I’m almost there, Trey wraps his legs around me and tugs me close with each thrust, slamming against me. He fucks me as much as I’ve fucked him, just as passionate and greedy and frantic.

The heat in my stomach overwhelms me, and I tighten my grip around his throat when I finally release. My head spins, and my heart races. I can’t empty my balls fast enough, but fuck if it isn’t the best orgasm I’ve ever had. It takes a moment before I can even open my eyes, and when I do, I find Trey staring up at me, fingers still in his mouth that’s now pulled up into a smile.

I could say something witty. Something sarcastic. Instead, I lean in for a kiss. That’s all I want. I just want to feel his mouth on mine, my chest against his much stickier one. I could spend eternity here like this, spent and warm from climax.

 

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Jack Harbon is your typical, eccentric twenty-something writing stories much more interesting than his real life. If he’s not writing, he’s either reading domestic thrillers about women in peril, watching trashy reality TV shows, or playing The Sims.

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