“He looks like he’s gonna bite a piece of your fuckin’ dick off, man,” I mut
“He looks like he’s gonna bite a piece of your fuckin’ dick off, man,” I muttered underneath my breath.“Huh?” Nate asked. But he was sweating, the muscles in his shoulders and back shifting as he moved into place on the couch was one of those things where you’re groggy or distracted and someone’s said something, yeah, but you don’t really wanna stop what you’re doing. And so, yeah, sure, you ignore them.I have no damn clue if Cole heard me. Maybe he didn’t, maybe he was too fuckin’ entranced by Nate’s piece bobbing in front of his face. But I think he did, and just sorta ignored me, too, the same way I’ve realized that I think that all night he’d been maneuvering things like this – roommate gone, his bro’s weed, waving me over to the shitty ass recliner like he was doing me a solid and then waving Nate over to the couch that barely sat two. I mean, I knew that about Cole, I guess, that he was a fuckin’ schemer, a smart little hyper ratty dude whose brain always went a mile a minute, who was always onto looking out for the next angle, the next deal, the next fix. I mean, that’s why our friendship had been so stable so long, right – the two of us bros, clean cut, whatever, and then the scrawny kid in freshman bio with the piercings and just the one tat (then) and the hoodie with thumb holes cut in the sleeves. What I hadn’t known is that he’d schemed about Nate, right, but it was clear from the look in his eyes, from that smooth and controlled hunger, that he had.And so neither of them paid attention to what I said, which is good I guess, because it is was stupid and weird and totally the wrong thing for me to say in that moment, with my one hand on my bulge, my other one hanging loose over the arm of my chair but wanting to reach out and grab the waistband of Nate’s shorts where it was stretched over the back of his thick thighs, knees on either side of Cole’s tiny painted body, and pull him back from the brink. And when Cole did take Nate into his mouth, when his eyes arced up to meet Nate’s and finished licking those smooth pink lips as the head of Nate’s cock parted them, it was clear that he’d been doing this for a while, too. Taking dick, I mean. The way he slid right down, the way his bony fingers came up and dug into the meaty cheeks of Nate’s jock ass like claws and pulled him in, the way he took Nate to the root, found his root, made Nate’s hips buck as he instinctually tried to root out the back of Cole’s throat made it clear that not only was our friend a schemer and a stoner and a whatever, but a cocksucker, too – not in the joking way that Nate and I called each that other sometimes, right (and I don’t know how I’d never fuckin’ noticed that Cole never joined in), but a real bonafide cocksucker, a practicing cocksucker, a cocksucker who knew how to use his lips and tongue and tight skinny fucking throat to pull these low animal grunts from deep out of Nate’s chest like Nate was being tackled into the ground.I don’t know, though, man. I mean, I was wrong, yeah: Cole didn’t take a bite out of Nate’s dick. Nah, he fucking worshipped it, fucking licked it and laved it and loved it until Nate came and crashed and collapsed down on top of him and Cole gave me this glazed (and, you know, glazed) smirk over Nate’s still heaving shoulder. But as the rest of that year went on – as Nate started sort of angling his phone away when he’d get a text, as he started to be always so fucking “can’t tonight, sorry bro” when I’d wanna hang, and as he and Nate both sort of vanished off the face of the earth when they weren’t busy laughing at something I didn’t get and giving each other these looks I wasn’t even asked to join in on – it was like a part of him was gone. -- source link