This story will contain sexual acts between two adult males. I am not, nor do I know the celebrities involved. I do not know their sexual preferences.
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-------------------------------------------------- Tom Holland and I - Chapter 5A --------------------------------------------------
The night of our dinner, I was shockingly nervous. I was garbed in the only formal outfit I had with me on the trip, a slim, navy blue suit, a white button up and taupe dress boot with wingtip brogueing. After appraising myself in the hotel mirror, I decided to opt out of the jacket and replaced it with the matching vest. I was not satisfied with my hair at all, flipping between laying it straight back and tousling it just a bit. In the end, I pushed it back and huffed out of the door, determined not to be late. Tom's hotel was merely a block away, but it was also a New York block.
I arrived precisely on time, slightly windblown and scowling at my reflection in the mirror as I passed the front desk. My hair had been tossed by the strong Manhattan breeze, effectively making the final decision for me. I considered finding a nearby washroom, but I spotted Tom sitting on a nearby couch already waiting for me. He was dressed quite handsomely in a black and white striped polo, tan slacks and a pair of black, suede loafers adorned with a simple gold buckle. On his wrist sat an ornate yet classically styled watch. His head popped up as I approached, a loose curl of hair falling over his forehead.
"Wow. Um, wow," he greeted, standing as he looked me over. "I've never seen you in anything besides a t-shirt. You look... incredible."
I didn't expect such a forward compliment and balked. "Oh... th-thank you. Am I overdressed?"
"I think I may be underdressed."
I smiled, then stepped forward, jerkily raising my arms. Tom got the gist and joined me for a clunky hug. He squeezed my torso, humming quietly. When we separated, I let my hand linger on the muscles of his back. Tom's slender fingers played over my waist before disengaging. "You even smell great. Is that weird to say?"
"You have already said it, so what would it matter?" I replied teasingly. He chuckled as we were seated at a small table. "Can't get anything past that logic of yours." We were presented with our menus and given a moment to look them over. Tom set his down and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Do you want to get a bottle of wine?"
"I... we are both underage, Tom. They will ask for identification."
He pursed his lips. "Yes, we are, but they won't card us. This is on Marvel's dime. They'll do basically anything to keep our contract. Besides, we're legal adults. We could order wine literally anywhere else in the world."
"You make valid points."
In the end, we ordered a bottle of New Zealand sauvignon blanc as that would pair well with our entrees, lobster fettuccini for myself and a rosemary roasted chicken for Tom. True to his prediction, we were neither carded nor questioned. As we clinked glasses, Tom took a sip then quickly set his glass down. "Don't tell Downey we did this, please. I'll never hear the end of it."
"The date or the wine?"
"Oh, gosh, the wine!" he laughed. "You can tell him about the date, if you really want to. If it goes well, that is. If I embarrass myself and you never want to talk to me again, maybe don't tell everyone."
I enjoyed a sip of the sauvignon and peered at Tom over the rim of the glass. "What makes you think it won't go well?"
The directness of my question clearly surprised him. His cheeks flushed and he took a long swig of the wine. When he answered, I could tell that he was contemplating his phrasing. "It's... it's not that I think it will go badly. I..." He took another sip. "I'm not one hundred percent sure that it's gone well up to now, you know? You're very difficult to read."
"I think we both know that I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."
"That doesn't mean you're having a good time," he retorted, not without a small grin. "You might just want a meal."
"I haven't met a single human being I would tolerate simply for food. I would sooner starve than suffer." The comment was only half serious, but it made Tom laugh. "So, what you're saying is that you ARE having a good time? With me?"
I tilted my head at the question, intrigued by his request for validation. I began to dissect the query and all the surrounding factors leading up to it, but I stopped myself and said simply, "I enjoy your company." Tom let out a very quiet, "Yay!" and grinned at me, the tension now gone from his shoulders. A chuckle left my lips.
The entire dinner was exemplary. Tom and I had progressed to the point where I felt marginally more comfortable speaking about my personal life, albeit not without a bit of prodding. We chatted about career goals, both of us content with staying within the Marvel bubble for some time. His options were of course limited by how far the Spider-Man role would take him, but he was thrilled at the prospect of continuing a character for more than one film. His vigor in speaking about his portrayal of Peter Parker was reminiscent of my own energy around my trade and I liked that. I had begun to open up about my time at school which always led to me quelling Tom's habit of wielding the word `genius'. He was liberal in his compliments and did not hide his wonder at the breadth of my knowledge. Inversely, when I attempted to point out the skill required to do what he did, I was met with dismissiveness and a humility unlike any other. It was turning into something akin to a game: the two of us battling to cast positive attention on the other.
Another bottle was ordered as the food arrived, again without question. It was impossible to ignore Tom's eyes on my dish, even as he enjoyed his own. I wordlessly maneuvered a forkful of pasta and shellfish onto the corner of his plate. He melted into his seat, thanking me profusely between mouthfuls of his own chicken and the pasta. When I couldn't finish, I offered the remainder to him, seeing how he had liked it so much. By his reaction, you would've thought I had lain across the table and given him one of my own organs. When both plates are empty, he asked me if I was interested in looking at the dessert menu. I snorted loudly. "You are an absolute monster when it comes to food."
"I like to eat!"
I indulged him and glanced over the options, but had no particular desire to gorge myself. Tom, surprisingly, agreed and we sat back content with enjoying the wine and one another's conversation. The alcohol was beginning to flow through me, as I only ever drank when I was with my family and, even then, in limited quantities. My words came more freely and with less hesitance. As we finished the second bottle and switched to water, my eyes fell to the table. Tom's hand rested on the tablecloth, fingers curled just so much that his palm was an inch or so off the surface. Without any impetus or reasoning, I reached forward and hooked my index and middle under his. Not grasping, just touching. Tom had been staring vaguely off towards the lobby and jumped at the contact, glancing down at our hands in surprise. He tightened his grip, made eye contact, then blushed and turned away with a chuckle.
"What's funny?" I asked, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. He shrugged before resting his chin on his free hand. "You initiating physical contact."
"I hugged you when I arrived."
Tom grimaced. "That was a bad hug. You were all stiff and... pointy."
"How can a human being be pointy?" I asked, somewhat offended yet amused by the critique.
"Well, you were kinda rigid and your elbows were all out and pointy!"
"I was tense. This is our first date, after all."
He scoffed. "It's our first meal together. It's not like we haven't spent time talking to each other. This isn't even the longest we've sat together if you count work. You should be way more comfortable around me by now."
"I am... not the best with displays of emotion."
Tom, without missing a beat, grinned and replied, "And, that's okay. I'm an actor. I have enough emotion for the both of us." I laughed loudly and the remaining tension seemed to dissipate. We sat like that, fingers just touching, until the server approached us to see if we required anything further. We declined and she left us, which confused me. Tom informed me that he had already arranged for the meal to be charged to his room, which I protested, but he didn't budge on the issue. The argument continued into the lobby but to no avail.
"I had a good time," I told him as we lingered. "And, I appreciate you taking care of dinner. I will state here and now that I will be doing so next time."
"I can't wait," Tom grinned.
There was a silent pause, an apparent tradition for us now, before I pulled him into a hug, making sure to relax. I could feel him snicker against me, but he said nothing as he wrapped his arms around my body. When we split, Tom nodded approvingly. "Much better." I felt his hand brush mine before he hooked his pinky around my own. "So, Bashir-,"
"You can call me Bash."
Another grin. "Okay, Bash... I am really having a good time and I don't particularly want you to go, so... how would you feel about grabbing another bottle of wine and hanging out with me for a little longer?"
"That would be nice."
Tom bounced on his feet. "Awesome! Um, the same white? Or something else?"
"A red?"
"Yes! Perfect! Be right back!"
He zipped to the bar and returned quickly, a bottle of pinot noir in one hand and two glasses in the other. "Do you have a wine key?" I asked. Tom said nothing, but turned on his heel and back to the bar. He cast me an embarrassed cringe as the bartender opened the bottle for him, plugged the cork halfway in and handed it back. Tom strode past me and straight to the nearest elevator, apparently chagrined by his lapse in planning. I smiled as I joined him and took the bottle under the pretense of looking it over.
We exited on one of the higher floors and I marveled at the decor. Of course, I had anticipated that his hotel would be of a higher caliber than the crew hotel. There were even fresh flowers in ornate vases between every few doorways. When I pointed them out, Tom groaned. "I can't stand them, to be honest. They're wreaking havoc on my allergies." His complaint was punctuated by a sneeze. "See?!"
I chuckled at his sniffles as we stepped into his room and immediately noted that the room was immaculate. If it weren't for the suitcases in the corner, I could've mistaken it for unoccupied. And, not as if Tom was just an orderly person. This level of clean was premeditated. He had planned to ask me upstairs.
Tom poured us each a glass of wine, pointing dramatically at my Hulk socks as I pulled off my boots. "Love those! You always manage to have something cool on."
"I try my best."
"Is it okay if I change? Feels weird being all dressed up in my own room."
I hid a smile behind my glass, sure that Tom didn't intend to pull a `let me slip into something more comfortable' type line. "It's your room. I am but your guest." He whisked off into the bedroom, a tiny sneeze followed by an equally tiny, "Fuck." I removed my vest and rolled up my shirt sleeves before settling onto the couch. When Tom emerged, he was still wearing the polo, but had put on heather grey joggers. He padded barefoot over to the couch and sat down on the opposite end. He had barely landed before someone knocked on the door. To me, "One sec."
He swung around the corner and opened the door. From where I sat, I couldn't see the new guest, but I heard her. "Hey! How did it... are you drinking?"
"Zee, I-,"
"Anyway, how did it go? Did you kiss our bashful Bashir on those, mm, perfect lips?"
"Zee!"
I heard her moving toward the main room. "Give me some wine. I have to know how it went!" She finally entered my line of sight and froze, looking directly at me. She looked extremely comfortable in a baggy t-shirt, athletic shorts and a pair of massively fluffy purple slippers. I attempted to restrain a smile, but it was blatantly obvious that I had been privy to their conversation. Behind her, Tom was biting his lip and laughing silently. I opened my mouth to greet her, but never got the chance.
"Nope. Goodbye." Zee pivoted and disappeared back around the corner. The door slammed and Tom could no longer contain his laughter as he sat down. "So sorry about that."
"Not a problem," I replied. "So, you've been admiring my lips, then?"
Tom sighed in exasperation, the laughter still on his lips. "I mean, yeah. They're... you know... nice."
"Just nice?"
He threw back the wine and placed the glass on the nearby table. "They're REALLY nice, okay? I can't help it! I like kissing!"
"And, that is why you invited me up here? To your room? So you could kiss me?"
I bit back a grin as Tom stumbled through a few syllables, cheeks reddening. "No! It's not anything so... manipulative! I just... I like you is all." He punctuated his sentence by nudging my knee with his foot as he shyly looked away. I was entertained by his sudden humility and, honestly, aroused by the fact that Tom had spent time thinking of me sexually. I set both my glass and my trepidations aside and turned on the couch to face him. The motion drew his attention and he slowly did the same. I took his hand and tugged ever so slightly. Tom caught on, one corner of his mouth turning upward. He braced himself on his bent knee and leaned forward. I moved my hand to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, acutely aware of his rapid pulse. I could actually smell the alluring, rosy bouquet of wine on his breath.
Suddenly, Tom sneezed, his head shooting forward in an attempt to avoid spraying me directly. In doing so, however, he headbutted me, his forehead smashing into the bridge of my nose. The combined force and surprise rocked my head back. I released a explosive, "Fuck!" as I instinctively covered my pained face. My shock paled in comparison to Tom's mortification. I felt his hands grasp my face as my eyes welled up. "Oh, my god! I am SO SORRY! Shit! Are you alright? Fuck! Fuck, you're not bleeding, are you? Sorry!" Tom peeled my hands back to inspect the damage. "I don't see any blood."
"Bathroom?"
He pointed toward the bedroom and I made my way, head tilted back just in case. I highly doubted that he had hit me hard enough to break a capillary, but it was worth checking. I flicked the light switch, noticing that the bathroom had been given the same spotless treatment as the rest of the suite. Tom's toiletries were set to the side, the various bottles and items placed according to size. Nothing about him indicated such compulsive organization. Again, I briefly wondered if he had done all of this on my behalf.
My nose wasn't bleeding, fortunately. Nothing more than a dull ache and agitated skin. I wiped the tears from my eyes, straightened my collar and returned to the main room. As I exited, I spotted several clothing tags in the trashcan. I found Tom sequestered in the kitchenette, elbows on the counter, his face buried in his hands. He let out a puff off air followed by a dismayed, "Oh, my fucking god..." I picked up the abandoned glass of wine which caused him to spring up. "Are you alright? I'm sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry."
"I am just fine, Tom." He sighed and pursed his lips as he poured himself another glass. "We're going to need another bottle at this pace."
"You... you're staying?"
"Was my invite revoked without me knowing?"
Tom shook his head. "No, of course not! I just figured... after I tried to, you know, smash your face in..."
I chuckled and set the glass down on the counter, sliding my hands into my pockets. There was something so... unquantifiable about Tom that appealed to me. His entire bubbly demeanor seemed to envelop this quiet, somewhat insecure facet of his personality. Wherever there was doubt or uncertainty, he openly sought out reassurance. I didn't view this as a crutch or fault. On the contrary, I found it admirable. It was a skill set I certainly didn't have: the wherewithal to ask for support, to allow oneself to be vulnerable. Perhaps that was the reason I had allowed myself to consume such a large amount of wine: so my self-set limitations would be undone.
I stepped closer to Tom. His smaller frame was pinned between myself and the marble countertop. We weren't touching but I could virtually feel the anticipatory energy vibrating off of him. "I would like to stay." I leaned forward. Tom closed his eyes and I heard his breath hitch in his throat. "Don't sneeze," I said quietly. He chuckled, turned his head and sniffled before turning back to me. "All clear."
I closed the gap and kissed him gently. Just a simple, innocent brush of the lips, lingering for only a moment. I slowly straightened, pulling back. Tom whimpered quietly, whispering, "Mm, no... no, come back." His hands found my waist and pulled me closer. I stepped in between his legs as our lips met again, this time decidedly more fervent. His slender fingers held on to my shirt as I leaned into him. I felt his lips part slightly, inviting me. There was no hesitation. I slipped my tongue into Tom's hungry mouth, a contented moan escaping my body. Tom sighed as we explored one another, tentatively at first, then progressively more confidently as time passed. My senses were inundated by him; the softness of his lips, the woodsy scent of his cologne, the subtle taste of pinot on his tongue. It was all wonderful.
I broke the kiss after who knows how long and with no small amount of effort. Tom's eyes remained closed as he smiled dreamily. When he emerged from his euphoric state, his cheeks flushed and his hands fell. I looked down, quickly realizing he had done so to cover the rather impressive bulge in his groin. The sudden modesty made me snicker.
"I told you I like kissing!" he laughed. "And, it's not like you didn't enjoy it, too!"
Indeed I had. My own erection was straining against the flat front of my slacks and quite uncomfortably so. "Your sweatpants are far more forgiving than mine," I replied, removing my hands from my pockets and taking hold of my wine glass.
"I have some shorts you can wear if you want!" Tom offered, still hiding himself. "While you're here."
"Sure."
I followed him as he scurried into the bedroom and tossed open his suitcase. He handed me a pair of red, cotton shorts. "They're just a bit big on me, so they should be perfect. Ooh! I'll grab you a hanger so you can put your pants up." He leapt onto the bed, tumbling heels over head and landing perfectly on the opposite side. Had I not been staring amusedly, I may have missed the almost imperceptible flick of the wrist that closed the bedside drawer. Tom reached into the closet and passed me the promised accessory as I headed into the bathroom. I removed my button up and traded my slacks for the supplied shorts, hanging my outfit on the back of the door. The shorts, on Tom, would have reached below his knees. However, on my lengthier body, they sat comfortably an inch or so above my own. I pulled off my socks as well, leaving me in a tank and Tom's shorts.
I exited the bathroom and found that Tom had returned to the main area. Emboldened by the wine and curious as to what he was hiding, I quietly slid open the bedside table. Inside was a single item: a bottle of Gun Oil lube, complete with the security plastic around the top. Considering we had recently flown in, it was entirely possible that Tom had purchased it in the city. Whether the intent was with our date it mind was up for debate.
I closed the drawer and joined Tom. He was kneeling on the floor, ankles crossed, focusing intently on the television above him. His eyes raked over me and a smile broke out. I noted that his cheeks were flushed, an effect of the alcohol. "I was just trying to connect my phone and put some music on. Anything you want to hear?"
"Host's choice."
Tom nodded as I planted myself on the couch. From this perspective, I could fully appreciate his round ass clad in the thin sweatpants.The muscles bunched under the fabric as he focused on the task at hand. When he leaned forward to retrieve the remote, I was given an eyeful. He found a suitable choice, a soulful voice accompanied by a dark yet funky melody, then hopped onto the couch and smiled. "So... Bash..."
"Yes, Tom?"
"Can we kiss again?"
I responded with a simple nod. Tom edged closer and leaned in to meet me. I sighed into the kiss and let my hand rest on his bent knee. He, in turn, gently caressed my arm, his fingers gliding across my skin. When I played my tongue across his, Tom groaned and his grip tightened around my bicep. Our breathing became heavier, the touches more insistent. I had gotten hard the moment our lips met and I could feel myself stretching the fabric of the borrowed shorts. There was no doubt in my mind that Tom would be as well. At the thought, I shifted my hand up to his thigh.
That innocuous movement seemed to incite Tom's already rampant arousal. He split from the kiss, threw one leg over me and straddled my lap. A startled, "Oh..." escaped my mouth, causing him to hesitate. He paused. "I-I'm sorry. I got a bit eager."
"I don't mind," I replied. "I was taken by surprise is all."
"Are you sure? I should have-,"
"Shh."
I drew him down to me, feeling him smile in our kiss. Tom bent at the waist, hovering over me as our tongues dueled. His hands cupped my face gently, a sensation that I was coming to enjoy. He suddenly settled his weight onto my lap which torqued my hardened dick painfully downward. I grunted in pain which caused Tom to snap out of our kiss.
"Sorry! Oh, fuck. What'd I do now?"
I reached into the shorts and attempted to nonchalantly rearrange my package. "Nothing life threatening. Just a minor adjustment." Tom's eyes followed my hand and landed at the darkened spot of fabric where the head of my cock had just been resting. His eyebrows perked as I blushed. "Is that-,"
"Yes," I sighed. "I have a tendency to... leak quite a bit. I am aware that it is... gross."
"That's not gross!" he objected, sidling up next to me. "I think it's hot!" He drew me in for another kiss, then bit his lower lip. "Can I...?" I paused, considering for a moment how rapidly this was all escalating. We had kissed for the first time barely fifteen minutes prior and now Tom was asking permission to touch me intimately. I couldn't muster a verbal response, so, once again, I nodded. He smiled and pressed his lips to mine, his hand falling to my stomach.
To his credit, Tom was incredibly polite and patient. He caressed my body gently, occasionally dipping his finger into the waistband of the shorts. Each moment of skin contact sent a jolt through me. As I wrapped my arm around Tom's shoulder, his hand deftly slid under the fabric. His fingers enveloped me tenderly and I let out a small sigh. For a few minutes, he just held my throbbing dick as we kissed. As much as I ached for him to jerk me off, I was also perfectly content in this moment. A gentle squeeze punctuated our make out every so often as Tom explored his newfound toy. I could feel a veritable pool of precum saturating my bush.
When Tom shifted his hand up my shaft, my legs jerked. It had been over a calendar year since anyone besides myself had so much as touched my dick. The sensation of someone else stroking me was nothing short of glorious. Tom twisted his wrist as his hand slid over the head, spreading the slickness on the way down. My head fell back on the couch as he repeated the motion and a whispered, "Fuck yes," fell out of my mouth. I heard him chuckle next to me. "That alright?" I hummed an affirmation. "I'm not moving too fast, am I?"
"As in your stroke or your hand being in my shorts?"
"Well... both?"
I turned my head and opened my eyes. "The pace is just fine. And, as long as you are comfortable then I am as well."
"Would you be comfortable... without those shorts?"
"Trying to get me naked already?"
Tom laughed as he dragged his palm over the slippery head. "If we're being honest, I've wanted to get you naked since the moment we met."
I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"At the brunch. Oh, yes."
"Hm. I did look you over, but, as I assumed you were straight, I didn't put any further thought into it."
"Are you saying you didn't think of me naked?"
"I'm saying that I didn't think of you sexually because it was presumably moot."
Tom harrumphed and glanced down. "Wow. Guess I should stop all this then, huh?"
"You couldn't even if you wanted to," I challenged, turning my body and pressing forward. Without freeing his hand, Tom rolled back onto the couch, a grin across his face. A grin which dissipated quickly as we both realized that we had misjudged how much space we had and he ended up with his neck at an almost ninety degree angle on the arm of the couch. He awkwardly shuffled downward as I attempted to position his leg between myself and the furniture. After a minute or two of struggling, he laughed. "Should we just get on the bed?"
"Seems like the most logical course of action."
Tom withdrew his hand, his fingers sending a shudder through me, and rolled out from underneath me. I followed him into the bedroom and stood on the opposite side. We shared a smile amidst an awkward pause before he spoke. "Is it too bright in here? I can turn the lights down a bit." He moved a dimmer switch inset in the wall, lowering the overhead lights. The change made me a bit less self conscious about the entire situation. I pulled the tank top over my head and tossed it into a nearby chair. From across the bed, I could see Tom virtually drooling as he did the same, then stepped out of his joggers. His black boxer briefs were tented out in front of him, the dark color in direct contrast to his fair skin. It was the first time I had seen him undressed in person and it was truly a sight.
I removed both the shorts and my underwear and stood before him completely nude. Tom drank me in, his dark eyes trailing down my skin. He didn't hide his awe at my thick, drooling erection. "Holy hell. That is... a big dick."
"Thank you?"
"No, thank you."
I snorted as I climbed onto the bed. Tom dropped his underwear revealing his length to me. "And, you think I have a big dick?"
He grinned as he joined me, laying next to me and grasping my cock immediately. I caught him as he landed and wrapped one arm around his shoulder. As we kissed, I felt his body turn into mine, his leg resting on mine, his own erection trapped between us. It seemed odd to me that he would cut me off from returning the favor, but I was content with exploring his taut body. With my free hand, I traced the curve of his shoulder, down his back, over his slender waist. When I reached his supple backside, I felt the muscles flex gently. Tom whimpered at the simple touch and twisted his body to give me even more access. I obliged him by clutching the entire cheek, sending in a tremor through him.
We lay like that for quite some time, Tom slowly jacking my dick, me massaging his ass, making out all the while. The sexuality of the moment was undeniable, but there was a comforting sensuality as well. He and I were figuring each other's bodies out, discovering where the buttons were. When I grazed the small of his back, Tom's entire body spasmed and he let out a heaving grunt. The reaction made me smile as he chuckled, apparently as surprised as I was. "Well, that was something."
"A good something, I hope."
He nodded vehemently. "Very good." I caressed the spot again causing Tom's back to arch. His hard dick jammed against my hip as his eyes rolled back. "Oh, my god, what even is that?" he quivered. My curiosity piqued, I circled the known spot, eliciting another moan from Tom, then slowly dragged my fingers up his spine. He gasped as his head fell back, his fingers releasing me for the first time. Tom braced himself by putting his precum slicked hand on my chest. I took the opportunity to latch onto his neck, kissing and biting gently.
My combined efforts were whipping him into an aroused frenzy. He began to pant heavily as he rutted against me. The temperature in the room seemed to have climbed exponentially in a matter of minutes. My hand moved down his back triggering more tremors. As I stopped at the top of his ass, Tom clutched my shoulder and breathed, "Keep going." To emphasize his request, he slid his knee up my thigh and arched his spine. I gladly obliged, my reservations long since diminished. The moment my fingertip brushed against his hole, Tom let out a sound that was half moan and half chuckle. As I lightly rubbed against it, I felt his pucker twitching in response. His legs likewise tensed with each pass. Tom was completely immersed in his lust under my manipulations. His head was still tilted back, eyes closed. I gently nibbled at his neck which evoked more moans. When I applied a bit of pressure to his hole, he tangled his fingers tightly in my hair.
After a moment, Tom looked at me and smiled before drawing me into a kiss. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"Not being a very good host," he said, indicating my unattended erection. "Got a little caught up in myself, I guess."
"It's fine. I enjoy you enjoying yourself."
"Honest?"
I suppressed a smirk. "I am being honest, Tom. And, if there's something you do or don't like, please tell me."
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, his eyebrows perked and a devilish smile appeared. "I would very much like... for you... to fuck me."
"Straight to the point."
"You offered!" he replied with a shrug. In response, I met him for a deep kiss and rolled him onto his back. Our cocks met, both rigid as steel, as Tom wrapped his legs around my waist. His hands pulled at me in an impossible attempt to press us closer together. I throbbed at the prospect of intercourse with the handsome man beneath me. Even knowing that my prodigious girth would be a challenge couldn't dissuade me. At that thought, I split the kiss, reached over and retrieved the bottle of lube from the bedside table. Tom gawked at me incredulously. "How..."
"I see everything," I teased. His face flushed as I pulled off the plastic. Just as I opened the bottle, I noticed the rolled up towel in the back of the lube drawer and grabbed that as well. Tom sighed deeply, the flush deepening. "There is nothing wrong with being prepared," I smiled. "Would you prefer to..."
"Hm?"
I searched for the right words. "Get yourself... ready?"
Tom's brow furrowed for a split second before his face lit up with realization. "Oh! I mean, I can... if you don't want to..." By his inflection, I was aware that he would prefer if I took charge. I said nothing as I coated my fingers in a generous amount of lube and tentatively glided over his hole. Tom hummed as he placed his feet on my thighs. I took my time, only pressing into him when I felt he was relaxed. He uttered a small, "Ah," as I slowly pushed my finger into his tight warmth. His pale cock bounced on his stomach as he acclimated himself to the intrusion. My own dick pulsed excitedly as I reveled in the sensations.
As I stretched Tom, I took the time to take in every detail of his visage. My eyes traced over the angles of his jawline, the shape of his hands, the way his toes curled and flexed. When I added a second finger, his eyes fluttered and his back arched off the bed. I sought out his prostate, pressing lightly against the button. Tom's hole clenched and a dollop of clear liquid spurted from the swollen tip of his dick. I licked my lips as I imagined what my cock would do to him. As if reading my mind, Tom reached down and grasped me in his long fingers. I hadn't even noticed that he had slathered his palm with lube until that moment.
We stayed that way, locked in a reciprocal circle of pleasure, until I felt Tom shift. He silently moved one foot behind me and pulled me toward him. I removed my fingers, making way as he guided my hardness toward him. As our skin met, I marveled at the sight. It seemed impossible that I would be able to fit my girth inside his tiny, glistening hole. But, we were both intent on it. I shuffled a bit closer and pushed carefully. Tom gave me an encouraging smile that became a moue of pleasure as I broached his ring. A groan fell out of my mouth as I was engulfed in the heat of him. Just having the head of my cock inside was sending waves through me.
I carefully leaned over and kissed Tom gently as he adjusted. "How are you doing?"
He looked up at me, smiled, and whispered, "I'm great. You can keep going." I moved just a hair and his face changed from a smile to an unpleasant grimace of pain. "Nope, nope. I lied. Back out." I slowly drew back the two inches or so out of his grip. Tom felt his hole, snickering through the pain. "Oh, my god, Bash. Your dick is absurd."
"We don't have to have sex," I said, feeling slightly abashed. Tom scoffed and handed me the bottle of lube. "Oh, I am getting that dick inside of me."
I laughed at his determination, adding more lube as he shoved a pillow under his hips. When he was ready, I tried again, sliding into him with a touch more ease. I leaned over, engulfing his smaller body in mine, and kissed his neck. Tom wrapped his arms under mine and placed his heels on my ass. There were a few deep breaths as I played across his skin. In time, I felt the resistance wane. Tom squeezed his legs, encouraging me forward. My progress, however, was short lived. He let out a loud hiss and grasped my shoulders.
"This isn't going to work," I sighed resignedly as I retreated. "I'm just hurting you."
"It's fine!" he retorted. "I mean, you are quite literally putting part of your body inside my body. It's going to take some adjustment! I don't mind!"
"I do. I just... I can't derive any pleasure from this while I'm splitting you open."
"You're hardly splitting me open, Bash," he laughed. "It's just been a while. Come here. Just kiss me for a bit." I was dismayed at our difficulties, but obviously obliged his demand. I kissed him tenderly, lightly resting my weight on him. Tom seemed to take charge of the kiss, his tongue probing my mouth gently yet assertively. I was so wrapped up in the feelings that I barely noticed he had guided me onto my back and was sitting on my lap. He leaned over me as he ground his hips in slow circles. My erection was trapped against his hole and I could feel him clenching and relaxing. I rested my hands on his hips, pushing up against him. I wanted so badly to fuck him, but I also respected his physical limitations. We would figure out other ways to find satisfaction.
Tom reached under us and placed my cock in the crevice of his ass, holding me in place. I groaned as I slid against his skin, no doubt spreading lube and precum all over his cheeks. As I rubbed against him, Tom sat back and popped the lube bottle open. I watched, hips continuing to move, as he carefully poured some into his hand. His tongue poked out slightly as he focused on the task. When he turned to set the bottle down, he dropped half of the lube onto my stomach. "Whoops." He shot me an exaggerated cringe before taking my cock in his hand and lining it up.
"Tom, we don't have to-,"
He cut me off with a kiss, simultaneously pushing back and allowing me into him. My protest became a low growl of pleasure as Tom sat back. He hovered carefully as he, once again, acclimated to the insertion. His eyes were closed and he propped himself up on my chest. I could do nothing but watch and run my hands over his skin as he slowly lowered himself onto me. He dropped at a glacier's pace, occasionally pausing to take a few breaths. I felt the tiniest of pops, like a bottle being uncorked, and Tom's eyes scrunched. "Ooh, fuck. There it is." He took a moment to work through the pain, his ring reluctantly relaxing around my thickness. It took all of my willpower not to pull him down onto the remaining inches.
Eyes still closed, he leaned forward and placed his head in the crook of my neck. "Still okay?" I asked as I rubbed his back. Tom took a page from my book, saying nothing but nodding. I took his position as an acquiescence of control and ever so slowly curled my hips up into him. He inhaled deeply as I slid the last few inches of my rock hard dick into his trembling, stretched hole. When our hips finally met, he finally spoke, still buried in my shoulder. "I told you I'd get that dick inside of me."
I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "You always get what you want, huh?"
Tom's head popped up and he smiled at me, eyes scanning my face. "I'd like to hope so." He kissed me and curled his hips, withdrawing just a couple inches before sliding back down. The tempo was languid and I was grateful for it. Between work and traveling, I hadn't had the time or energy to masturbate within the past three or four days. Between that and Tom's flirting, I was undoubtedly going to orgasm sooner than I would like. However, I was determined to enjoy every moment.
Tom propped himself up as he rode me, hands on either side of my head. Between us, his lengthy piece rubbed against my stomach, leaving a trail of his own precum. Fascinated by his foreskin, I reached down and took him in my hand. I stroked gently, having heard that uncut dicks required a touch more care. The feel of the velvety skin sliding over the head was entrancing to me. I would move my hand upwards as Tom moved down, the extra skin bunching under my grip. I looked up to ensure that I was doing a passable job and was surprised to see Tom with a grimace on his face. "Am I doing something wrong?"
"No! Well... not really. I'm just weird..."
"Meaning?"
He fidgeted a bit before answering. "I just don't... I don't really like my dick being touched."
"Oh... understood."
"I mean, I do like it, but only in a certain way," he elaborated, redness blossoming in his cheeks. "Like, it's really specific and it's weird, I know."
I gave him a little squeeze. "It's not weird. Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself."
"I am." He returned the squeeze, but with his hole. The pressure on my dick sent a spasm through me, knocking the smile off my face. Tom grinned. "Ooh, someone liked that." He clenched again and I felt a familiar tingle.
"Tom, don't."
"Don't what?" he asked playfully, grinding his hips on my lap. I sat up and attempted to hold his body still, but he persisted, capping the motion off with an intense squeeze. I had no chance to even explain as I felt myself cross over the threshold. I wrapped my arms around his torso, pulling him close as my jaw fell and my orgasm rolled through me. I grunted loudly as my dick bounced in Tom's ass, burying my pent up load deep inside him. My forehead was pressed against his collarbone as I shot over and over, feeling as if I were being pulled inside out. I lost count after six.
Tom cradled me as I came, his hands roaming my shuddering body. I held onto him, beyond embarrassed at my premature orgasm. As I started coming down from my temporary bliss, I huffed. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"I... I'm sure you wanted this to last a little longer."
Tom chuckled, reaching between us to take his own cock in hand. "If we're being totally honest, I didn't expect your dick to be this large and that was perfect timing because I need a break." His candor caught me off guard, but I had no time to respond, as he pulled me into a passionate kiss. He move his hips just slightly, still perched on my slick cock. I could feel his hand moving between our stomachs as his breathing started to quicken. Only a few moments passed before he huffed in our kiss, his thighs tightened around me and I felt the first spurt of cum hit my neck. Tom gripped me as he came, his load splashing hotly onto my chest and rolling down onto stomach and our connected bodies.
As his orgasm subsided, Tom began to twitch in my arms. Nothing alarming, just small muscle contractions shooting through him every few seconds. I ran my hands over his back until they stopped and he sat back. His face was a vacant look of pleasure punctuated by a chuckling smile. "Holy shit."
"Agreed."
I fell back onto the bed, jumping as I finally softened enough to slip out of Tom's cum-filled hole. He planted a kiss on my lips and sat back, running one finger through the rivulets of liquid on my stomach. Neither of us could find words, whether it be because of the sex or the copious amount of alcohol finally catching up to us. I drank in Tom's visage while cataloguing every minute detail that I had learned about him: his affinity for kissing, the particularity of his stroke, even his dichotomous and inconsistent desire to be controlled and to control. I logged it all as we basked in the glow of our evening.
"Can I ask you something?" I said, words thick with alcohol. Tom nodded. "Are you always this meticulous in your cleaning?"
A small smile appeared. "Not to this degree. I just... hoped you'd come up and didn't want it to look like a pig sty." Content with that answer, I began to feel the weight of sleep approaching and, by the look on his face, Tom could as well. "Would you mind if I took a shower?" I asked, caressing his sides.
"Of course I don't mind. I don't want you sticking to my sheets in the middle of the night." I paused, having not considered that I could stay the night. My hotel was only a block away after all. Tom noticed my hesitation and his insecurity took hold. "If you want to stay, I mean. It's not like you have to. I know you have stuff to do tomorrow."
It was true that I was meeting Ami for lunch, but she had class until midday, so I had plenty of time. Besides, a New York block is a long way to walk drunk in dress shoes. When I told Tom I would stay, he barely hid his excitement. "Okay, well, um... I will let you shower first," he said. "Just let me use the bathroom right quick and... you know."
"I can get in the shower while you use the bathroom, Tom."
His face blanched. "I think I should be alone for a couple minutes."
"Are you pee shy?"
"Wh..." Tom looked at me confusedly before cracking up. "No, Bash. I need to, you know... evacuate." I was lost and my face obviously conveyed as much. "Wow, you are definitely drunk. Well, I need to get rid of your load that I am currently holding in my hole."
"Oh. Um... go ahead."
He rolled off the bed and headed into the bathroom. I walked into the living room, making sure that I wasn't dripping semen all over the carpet, and retrieved my phone. I was none too surprised to find that I had upwards of twenty texts from Ami, initially asking about the date, then demanding a response, and finally accusing me of being a, quote, "wretched queer twatwaffle." I responded with a thumbs up, knowing that it would aggravate her to no end. After setting my alarms, I inhaled a glass of water, refilled it and then grabbed one for Tom before making my way back to the bedroom. Tom had the door open and I could hear the shower running.
He was already behind the steamed up glass, his slender back to me. The music he had picked in the living room was playing over a small speaker in the corner. When I set the glass down, he turned and beckoned me to join him, which I did. We met for one small kiss before I began washing the lube and otherwise off of my torso. Tom and I bathed in relative silence, only speaking to pass one another soap or switch places under the stream of water. There were light touches, a hand on the small of the back or a brush of a finger. We had crossed a threshold of comfort, but we were still figuring one another out.
Once out of the shower, Tom materialized a spare toothbrush provided by the hotel and a charger for my phone. We brushed our teeth, I slid back into my underwear and tank, and nestled under the sheets. Tom made a circle around the suite to turn off the lights before joining me. I wanted to continue talking with him. I wanted to explore his body. I wanted to touch and listen and learn, but sleep was overtaking me. By the time Tom turned off the bedside light, my eyes were closed. I felt him kiss my cheek before I slipped completely into slumber.
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