For once I’m not the only one affected by Ivy League’s ridiculous, stupid, absurd power. All the Undersiders stumble through the doors into the loft drenched in green-yellow powder.
“Off, off, get everything off immediately.” Lisa says, voice terse. She’s already yanking garbage bags from a box under the sink, stripping out of her costume as she goes.
“Lisa!” Brian shouts, delicate sensibilities shuddering, and she throws a no-nonsense look over her shoulder.
“We are not leaving this shit around to reinfect us later.” She put her hands on her hips, stern visage ruined a bit by the top half of her jumpsuit being down around her waist.
I bit my lip a little, felt something stirring inside that was far more potent than the usual dull interest and flickers of amusement.
Unbuttoning the pollen-stained blouse of my costume is something to focus on. It takes more of my attention than it should just to coordinate my hands, but not enough that my mouth can’t run away with my thoughts.
“You haven’t even told us what it does yet,” I drawl, breaking the tension. Brian looks over with the standard exasperation and the expression falls off his face almost as fast, staring slack-jawed at me.
Taylor and Rachel are helping each other with their costumes, the dog Master unbuttoning the bug controller’s needlessly complicated release system from the back. Their hands aren’t being as chaste as they should be for a professional operation.
“Yeah, well.” Lisa squinted between all of us and groaned. “Since you were there, I bet you can guess.”
I toss the kevlar down leaving me naked from the navel up and throw my arms up in only-slightly-exaggerated irritation.
“Every time!”
“Wait, what?” Brian asked, belatedly going for his jacket when Lisa shot him a threatening look and a gesture with the trash bag.
“Haven’t you noticed? Any time we fight Ivy League there’s two outcomes– either the flowers have some esoteric effect OR Regent is there and it’s a… pollen.”
“You can say sex pollen.” I try for a little grin and get shot down immediately by both of their snappish looks. Ouch, harsh. Swallowing hard is hidden by my hair as I turn and bend a little to get my boots.
They go every bit of the way up to my knee and it’s a fetching look if I do say so myself. Pain in the ass to untie, though.
“Is it sex pollen again?” Brian’s voice is higher pitched even though he tries for a veneer of calm authority. Frankly he misses it by a mile and I flutter my lashes at him when I catch him looking again.
Lisa raises an eyebrow at me.
“It was the last time me and Rachel fought her.” I answer, barely putting any thought into it. And hadn’t getting tossed into the nearest safe surface and ravished been a highlight of that week? “Or when it was me, you and Taylor last week.”
That last was thrown carelessly over my shoulder as I finally got one foot free, bent fully in half to manage it.
That had been not only hot as hell– of course– but also unreasonably… fuck I don’t know, something tender and nice in a way that caught me completely wrong-footed.
We had made it to an actual bed that time, a slower-acting blue pollen that made us need to keep touching even if it was something as small as holding hands on the way home.
All my jokes had fallen away as Lisa and Taylor made sure to keep a hand on me, and me on them, as we climbed out of our clothes. Doing it that way had been slow and easy, all soft smiles.
Lisa’s power was a hard counter to the mystery pollen of the week, reaching into the other girl’s power and shaking answers loose. That time it had been ‘can’t stop touching until you cum’ and well, there weren’t that many ways to get off.
We’d started off with trying to take care of ourselves independently, with hands sliding over arms and safer places to keep with the ‘touch’ requirement. Then one thing led to another and nobody seemed mad about it, not even when Lisa pushed me slowly back onto the bed and climbed on.
Taylor followed, more or less grinding behind Lisa as she guided the blonde’s hips and I was absolutely smitten with it, came embarrassingly quick with Lisa’s moans in my ear and her tits pressed to mine.
Every one of us was pink all over after that and even though the touch requirement faded immediately after orgasm, we still ended up spooning and, fuck, cuddling after.
It hadn’t even felt awkward or bad being naked in bed for hours and the only thing that got us reluctantly out of it was Taylor’s stomach growling insistently. I would be damned if I broke the spell first so I’d pressed my cheek into her navel and whined about ordering take out.
Lisa had moved to comfort me as our knight in shining spider silk– or the marked lack thereof, all naked in full glory– braved the empty loft for something snack-shaped. Curling around her had felt better than it had any right to and she practically purred in my arms.
Taylor had looked hesitant upon her return, like she was considering running away or worse putting her clothes back on, so I tried to think of a way to snare her back into the nest.
Lisa, beloved Thinker, was far ahead of me and I can’t say I disagreed with her methods. She trailed fingers softly down my chest and stared hungrily at Taylor.
For a minute my throat caught thinking we were going another round, something uncoerced and just because, or that Lisa was going to make a little excuse about the pollen lingering. Then the moment passed and Lisa opened the blankets to snag Taylor from her stupor and reel her in.
My cue was obvious so I helped, stealing the rations and the corner of the comforter to tuck our lovebug in tight where she couldn’t get away.
Eventually we’d had to go our separate ways and get dressed but there had been something poignant there in both girl’s faces as they prepared to leave the loft. I was staying behind and something about that felt wretched, like being left, even though I was ‘home’ and they were the ones leaving.
Our relationship wasn’t such that we did casual hugs, though I thought I could get away with something like that since we’d spent the better part of the day cuddling with not a stitch of fabric between us.
Taylor brushed my shoulder companionably and I smiled at her, making a joke I couldn’t remember for the life of me. I threw myself on the couch like everything was normal and Lisa looked down at me, for a moment the day’s closeness lingering like it might continue, like she was going to bridge all boundaries and give me a kiss goodbye.
Taylor’s phone chimed and the moment passed, Lisa brushing a hand over my hair with platonic fondness and I tried not to arch into it. How desperate.
I waved them off with half-hearted interest, already focusing on the game system that wasn’t even on out of self defense.
Lisa was too distracted with Taylor to notice and I breathed a sigh of relief when they’d gone, throwing the controller away in disgust and laying back on the couch to close my eyes.
Rubbing them didn’t help, it felt a thousand times emptier and quiet in the loft alone and my skin prickled with the echo of our earlier easy proximity.
Something told me this pollen would do something similar and it wasn’t reassuring at all that it had gotten all of us. The first time we fought the troublesome Ward it had been just me ‘affected’ and the resulting orgy still featured in a place of honor of my spank bank.
Nevermind that it had blindsided me and still feels like a strange dream.
I get the other shoe off and kick it away, standing there in just the leather pants of my costume.
Looking at Lisa I could tell she was thinking of our day together, too. I didn’t need her power to confirm the others were all massively horny. In fact, my own power supplied that information easily enough if I wanted to pay attention to it.
Her eyes met mine and I just knew she was remembering how it felt with me inside her.
Brian laughs nervously.
“It’s not always a sex pollen though, right?” He checked.
Lisa made a so-so motion without looking away from me, and heat creeped up my neck.
“With Alec, yes.” She said. “And regardless of the trend this is indeed sex pollen. It’s not that bad though, this time we’ll just be super horny until we come.”
“Together?” I leered, ignoring the fast-beating heart in my chest and the way my throat closed with memory. Fuck, I was almost hoping for it. How sad was that?
She hesitated.
“No, it can be solo.” She admitted. “Better not wait, though, or you won’t be able to think straight.”
I opened my mouth and she sighed. Too bad for her that wouldn’t stop me, the anticipation almost made it better.
“Bisexual, actually.” I grinned crookedly and she smiled despite herself.
Even Brian snorted.
“Alright we’re all brain damaged.” Rachel decided, loudly. Looking over revealed her completely naked in the interrim, Taylor’s hands pale on her golden hips.
I missed her next words, I will admit. Then Lisa was shaking me. Her hand on me was divine and it must have shown because she pulled it away fast. I offered a quirked lip in apology.
Hell, we literally couldn’t help it.
“Everyone to their own rooms then?” I said, masking dsappointment.
“That’s the plan.” Her voice was shaky.
Frustration welled up in me that we couldn’t just–
No, that way lay madness. I would take what I could get, even if it was stolen minutes or hours with their hands on me.
“Easy enough.” I kept my smile flirty and she lingered only a few more seconds before disappearing down the hall.
My jaw was tight as I slipped into my own room, leaving the leather pants outside in the hall.
For once I wasn’t happy to see my bed. It was huge for one person, which was sad to notice. Sad as in pathetic, not unhappy. I was only a little frustrated because I couldn’t get laid, not anything else.
And hell that wasn’t even my fault, probably. Something hollow formed in the pit of my stomach at the thought, yeah, I could just blame the sex pollen.
It was what everyone else was doing, probably. With jerky hands I snatched the blanket off the bed and shoved it to the floor. I threw myself onto the sheets with a huff.
… It would be really nice if they still smelled like Lisa, or Taylor.
I usually threw out my old bedclothes rather than wash them– far too much of a hassle, and I could afford it– but instead of becoming ammunition for Rachel’s endless needs of dog bedding, I’d left these.
Instead of feeling like jerking off, despite being hard from the stupid pollen, I felt pissy and malcontent. Look at me, using all the feeling words Lisa gave me from that stupid little desk diagram.
Rolling my face into the pillow and imagining I could still pick up Lisa’s lilac shampoo or Taylor’s strawberry body wash.
My own scent, lavender mostly but I was starting to branch out into sandalwood lately, overshadowed all but the faintest notes.
“Okay, fine.” I slid a hand down my own chest moodily.
Ugh, I hated when jerking off felt like a chore. Even the thought of that was enough to ruin the mood, put me a step closer to things better left behind me.
It helped that the others were doing the same thing. I licked my lip imagining each of them in their own rooms, hands between their legs and trying to keep it quiet enough that the rest of us wouldn’t overhear.
Brian was the easiest to imagine. I had put serious work into thinking of it, ever since the first time and the way he had stumbled shyly to the bathroom to jerk off with my cum drying on his chest.
The girls I actually knew, had enjoyed our own encounters. It was so stupid that we were doing this all alone when we damn well knew sex together felt magnificent.
I took hold of myself with a frustrated grip and winced. Okay, easy. With a shaky exhale I gentled the touch and started the rote motions that would end in a stupid, boring, solo orgasm.
Brian was the first to finish. My nervesight tracked him out of the loft easily enough. Then Rachel. Then Lisa.
I may or may not have eavesdropped on their nervous systems to ride along, a shallow dip that just gave me echoed pleasure and little else. With that ‘help’ I finished a little before Lisa did, thinking privately that it was like a little race.
“Ha, I win.” I said, already feeling the low-grade lust disintegrate. As far as pollen went, this was the least potent I’d experienced so far. 2/10, did not let me fuck my friends.
Ugh. It felt nothing like victory and I wiped off the evidence on a handy sacrificial tissue.
Surprisingly, Taylor was still at it. Without my full attention devoted to it, I only got a vague notion of heightened pleasure from her direction. It took focus to bring anything more than that into clarity and my range was limited.
Still, after another hour had passed and even Lisa had vanished to parts unknown, leaving the two of us alone in the loft, I decided to investigate.
Nerd, I texted. Are you marathoning in there or still working on the first one?
Worries that the pollen might not be so easily conquered warred with sick hope, suitably muted, in my chest. Ugh. What if it had really hit Taylor and the rest of us only got the edges of the effect?
No, Lisa would have noticed.
Taylor didn’t text me back.
I huffed and climbed out of bed. Fishing a pair of boxers from the dresser was the absolute most amount of clothing I was willing to don for the rest of the night, and even that was begrudging.
They sat tight and black on my hips as I left my room, prepared to give the trousers of my costume a wide berth. Happily, someone had taken all the contaminated clothing away.
I knocked on Taylor’s door.
Yes, yes, cockblocking is a sin most grave– but it wasn’t like she was getting anywhere, from my estimations. Using my power to cheat, moi? Perhaps.
Getting closer and having her right in front of me– roughly– painted a clearer picture. She was definitely still trying to reach the first orgasm of the night.
Something almost shy in my chest bubbled up and I crushed it back down, frowning. Of course I’d help, anyone on the team would. It wasn’t more than that.
And I wasn’t excited, Jesus christ.
… That said, any of my teammates masturbating was a hot mental image. I wasn’t made of stone.
Ugh, introspection. My most hated enemy.
The form beyond the door had been still for too long, breath baited.
I knocked again.
“Taylor, I am literally an empath.” I blew an escaped curl out of my forehead, huffing. “I’m also really good at fu–”
The door opened, a hand reaching out and snatching me by the arm. I spared a moment to regret not wearing a shirt, because she absolutely would have reeled me in by the collar and such an outcome ought to be encouraged—
“Oof.” I laughed a little as the door slammed shut behind me, the room dark but not so dark as to hide her red cheeks.
“Easy, ma tresor, we’re the only ones home.” A little giddy I stepped closer and my chin touched her hair. One of her hands flattened against my pec.
“Did the others–?” She cut off with frankly charming wide eyes, so at odds with the usual hardass demeanor that I softened despite myself.
“Yeah.” It took a little courage to reach out and touch. I needn’t have worried, she leaned into it with tension melting out of her body. My thumb stroked her cheek.
“Did you already…?” Taylor’s blush here was far removed from the terrifying villain demeanor, but the direct eye contact wasn’t, though I don’t think she’d noticed. She’d been more confident with us, lately.
I really liked it.
Unfortunately I had to disappoint her.
“Sorry,” I murmured, stepping close enough to press us together. She was in a large shirt, one of Brian’s I think, and it came down to mid-thigh. Impossible to tell what she was wearing under it.
If anything.
The thought thrilled so I leaned closer, brushing a hesitant kiss to her chin.
Taylor gasped. I wondered how much of this was her or the pollen. The thought was like cold water over my head. Fortunately, cold water wasn’t enough to dim the embers.
Asking her outright felt like the wrong move so instead I made my interest clear.
“Let me help, hmm?” I brushed her hair back, tucked behind her ear and followed with my fingers until I could tip her head a little. This, I could do.
Strangely it occured to me that this was the first ‘one on one’ I’d been a part of, aside from Rachel who had been a one-woman whirlwind, and that had sadly been over almost before I could enjoy it properly.
“H-help?” Her lips moved, drawing my attention. “How?”
She was wearing just that shirt and looking up at me like that from so close, her body curled trustingly into mine in the dark.
I groaned and kissed her, holding her head back for it.
“However you want.” Her hands flew to my shoulders, possessive in a way I really liked. Confident.
She groaned into my mouth and jerked us backwards, close to the bed. I took the hint, climbing on after her. A hint of nerves appeared, for her not me, and I couldn’t have that.
I smiled invitingly and she giggled, caught off guard by her own sound, and soon we were cuddling as easily as we had been last week.
“See? Easy.” I kissed along her jaw as I’d wanted to then. “Now you just tell me how you like to cum.”
“Alec!” She hissed.
My hands soothed down tense muscles.
“Tay, I swear I’m not going to judge you.” A grin in my voice. I smile so much with them, it’s insane. “Whatever does it for you, I’m game.”
She mumbled something, shoulders stiff.
“Hey, I didn’t hear that. Relax, listen. We’ve done this before. Admittedly there was less talking due to the pollen being of a more robust variety– this week’s is rather lacking, I must say– but it wasn’t too bad, hmm?”
“No, it was– it was fine.” Taylor tucked her face into my arm. “I don’t.”
Thinking it was another cut-off sentence fragment, I waited. It wasn’t a stutter, though.
“Don’t what?”
“I don’t get off. Make myself cum. Whatever.” Her mouth was a harsh little line. She anticipated my next question: “Outside of the Ivy League stuff, I mean.”
My mouth clicked shut.
“Huh. Like, at all?”
“I masturbate.” Her tone grew frustrated, almost angry; I could almost imagine a distant buzz terrifying some part of the neighborhood. “Just not– I don’t. I’m not good at it, I guess.”
Defeat was heavy in her tone and I frowned.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to insist there’s no bad way to jerk off when I catch sight of reason. The defensive girl in my arms will not take well to an argument, however well-meaning.
So, plan b.
“Show me how you do it?” I challenge instead, earring a muffled squeak that makes me laugh. “Fuck, that’s adorable.”
“I can’t do that.” Taylor’s eyes widened, avoiding mine. “Come on, that’s too…”
“Embarrassing?” I tried, staying very chill. A rock of chill to show Taylor there was nothing wrong, letting her ping off my relaxed body language. “Nah, come on, we’ve fucked before.”
“I still can’t…” She shuddered hard. Literally in front of me my power was loud about exactly what nerves she had firing.
“Tresor, you’ve been jerking off for an hour. You’re so worked up.” My voice came out a little deeper for that and I inhaled shakily. Shit, her hair smelled so good, all strawberry notes carrying blood and gunpowder.
“It’s the pollen.” Taylor looked away again, thighs shifting. God, she was so wet.
Even with no finale, she’d been basically edging herself in here.
The room had that sweet smell of a really turned on girl, skin and sweat tangled up in the sheets. It was heady and distracting.
If we wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and just enjoy each other I could slip between her legs and make her cum without all this fanfare, five different ways before even thinking of getting my dick involved.
I almost offered, tired of the proxy thing we had going, the excuses and yet. Something held my tongue, an anxiety I couldn’t name. I swallowed.
“Okay.” A hand flat on her thigh, right under her ass, petting and reassuring. “It’s hard for you to think by now, right? But you’ve got to cum.”
She made a frustrated little noise and I reassured her as best I could.
“You’re too embarrassed to show me?”
It looked like she wanted to argue but eventually she jerked her head in a reluctant nod.
“Rude.” I laughed a little, “I want to watch–” interesting that her breathing sped up so much there– “but I’ll settle for using my power instead.”
“Huh?” Her nose wrinkled so fucking cutely.
“I’ll close my eyes.” My hand found her hip, under the shirt, cupping it. She wasn’t wearing a damn thing under it and she shuddered, pressing closer to me.
“How will that… help?” Taylor panted, feverish with want. Fuck, she was so tempting, and like an idiot I was volunteering to just be a goddamn bystander.
“Nervesight. I’ll feel what you’re doing. And how it feels for you.”
“And you’ll tell me what I’m doing wrong?” She bit her lip.
What she was doing wrong was not climbing into my lap and–
No, okay, fuck.
I nodded, eyes closed.
It took a long moment but the pollen must truly be unbearable because she shyly moved a hand between us and under the edges of the shirt.
Despite how worked up she already was, from so long touching herself, she still looked away and bit her lip.
I felt her arm like it was my own, focusing on the places her fingers moved. Two fingers rubbed up against her clit and Taylor moaned harshly.
Embarrassment curled in her gut and I made a little noise, rubbing her hip. It helped a little.
Most of the feedback was just a massive wall of horniness from Ivy League’s power, but frustration and embarrassment were the underlying notes.
Pleasure rose as she played with her clit.
“There you go.” I said, most of my focus on her nerves. She swallowed and looked over at me, which made her pulse stumble and her pussy clench with arousal.
Okay, wow. Flattering.
Electricty jerked up my spine and I groaned. Taylor liked the sound.
“I don’t see a problem.” I trailed my free hand over her shoulder, down her arm. “Just like this.”
Taylor made a wretched noise and whined, hand moving faster. I winced from the harshness but hey if she liked it… maybe part of me was taking note.
I wanted to see so badly, all her skin and long legs on display as she gave in to pleasure. It was distracting and heady, sweeping my own body up in arousal.
My chest rose and fell faster and faster, cock jerking in my boxers out of sympathetic lust. Fuck, she was getting closer and–
Embarrassment came again, followed harshly by shame. Then frustration, loathing, a cocktail of bad emotions that I physically flinched away from before I caught myself.
Taylor’s hand was trembling, her eyes prickling with tears.
I grabbed her wrist without thinking, stopping the frantic motions that weren’t going anywhere.
“What?” She snapped. “I was– I’m trying.”
“Relax.” I insisted. “Whatever you started to think about it, it was stressful. Not the time to ponder sucky shit.”
“It’s not like I can pick where my brain goes.” She jerked her hand away from mine. “It just happens. One second I’m thinking about– whatever– and the next I feel so…”
I pet her hip, pulling her into me. Kept her close.
“Ugly, and stupid, and useless, and– ugh.”
“Yeah, self-loathing can be a bitch like that.” We knew Taylor’s self-esteem wasn’t great but this? Oof.
“I’d reassure you that you’re hot and stuff but I don’t think it’d help.” I considered. “Unless you want to go that route. Talking you into finishing.”
She thumped me on the shoulder.
“Yeah I thought not.” I said easily. “You didn’t have this issue with me and Lisa, last week. Or Rachel, the first time we ran into Poison Ivy.”
“Well, yeah.” Taylor hunched her shoulders as best she could literally wrapped up around me. “It’s different. Nice. With you it’s… but by myself I inevitably start thinking of everything wrong and…. I hate it.”
“At the risk of sounding like a self-absorbed dick.” I paused, waiting for a smack that didn’t come. “Have you tried thinking of us?”
Taylor blushed nuclear.
“Of course I think of you.” She mumbled. “You’re all so pretty and funny and competent and it’s good, right up until I remember that I’m pathetic for– doing this— wanting what I can’t have like a loser and it’s gross to–”
Taylor throwing my own feelings back at me was unexpected enough that I had to stifle a laugh, well aware of how much a faux pas that would be.
Do you want ants? That’s how you get ants, in all sorts of unpleasant places and she’d be wrong, I wouldn’t even be laughing at her but at myself and the irony.
“It’s not gross.” I said, first of all. “It’s hot as fuck. Second, if it makes you pathetic then so I am because I’m never not thinking of you four.”
“All of us?” She frowned. “Why the fuck am I part of that? The others I get–”
“You make me crazy.” I pinched the hem of her– Brian’s– shirt and shook her a little. “We like you just as much as we like each other. It’s this stupid fucking–”
I cut off sharply.
“It’s not gross.” I repeated. “Forget the others, I like that you think of me.”
And if my throat tightened to admit it then nobody had to know, and I waited with baited breath for disgust to twist up her expression. With my eyes closed I wouldn’t see it but I would feel it, which was almost worse.
“… you do?” Her voice was small.
“Yeah, ‘course.” I smirk just a little, “If you shifted a little you’d be able to–”
Taylor was actually already going for it, sneaks her hand between my legs so confidently I cut off my sentence with a gasp.
“Well, hello there,” I say instead, breathless. “Fuck, Taylor, we’re supposed to be getting you off, not me.”
She feels around the very obvious tent in my boxers with her lip bitten. I feel like Lisa, the way it’s somehow the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“I can… watch?” The urge to kiss her is unbearable so I do, leaning forward and pulling her abused lip out from her teeth and into mine, the gentlest touch of a bite and she moans like she’s dying.
Sex pollen, right.
Fuck, being on top of her is too perfect. I wish the others were here. I want to be in the living room floor surrrounded by eyes on me and loving hands.
My eyes squeeze shut and I back away, breathing hard.
Before Taylor can ask about anything being wrong I deflect, deflect, deflect. Her shirt is rucked up and the tight cotton of my boxers is the only thing between my body and her bare pussy.
I make that very obvious and she shivers hard. Her pupils dilate.
“You can watch.” I say, practically a purr, backing up enough that I can shimmy the fabric down and pull my cock out. “It’ll get you out of your head, right?”
“Mmm probably.” Taylor sounds far away. I follow her sightline and she’s staring. I may or may not pose it a little, going for the best light.
“That’s… not how I thought you’d look.” She murmurs and I laugh a bit.
“What? You’ve seen it before.” A couple times now.
“It was different then,” She says defensively and I realize what she means, biting my own lip this time.
A little laugh and I stroke faster, working up to what she means. I can’t just yank it back but with a little slow coaxing my foreskin slides back and I keep it there, not yet hard enough that it stays on its own.
“Like this?” I ask and she nods, lips parted. Staring.
“Yeah,” She croaks. “That’s what it looked like.”
You look like you want it in your mouth, I don’t say.
“Taylor. Tresor. Touch yourself.”
She’s all wide-eyed and shaky as she acquiesces, sliding her fingers between her folds with a little shimmy of anticipation. Good.
I let the foreskin spring back, covering the head of my dick. It feels good, like a little sleeve to jerk off into, something I never really consider. It’s normal for me but the way Taylor tracks the motion reminds me it’s not exactly common.
She gets worked up easier now, again as a result of all that edging, but there’s less floating bits of bad emotions now that she has something to focus on.
Heh, I try to give her a show.
It’s easy, a familiar dance my body knows. Tilting things at just the right angle to give her the best eyeful, exaggerating the tilt of my hips, being loud.
Every time I moan, her arousal spikes and it’s so much sexier than it should be, knowing I turn her on.
Her pace speeds up, watching me. This time I notice right away when little rushes of oversensitivity creep in, too rough and too fast.
“Slow down, it’ll happen.” I laugh. “You don’t have to chase it.”
“You don’t know that.” Taylor gasped and breathed, voice wrecked. “It never– fuck!”
Her pace sped up and my hand slowed down, a deliberate taunt. She swallowed hard as she stared, unconsciously mimicking.
“Tresor. Trust me.” I ran my free hand over her knee. “Worst case scenario, I come over there. The pollen says you have to cum, it doesn’t say how.”
“Ah?” She jerks in the sheets, head falling back.
“Don’t worry. You can get there.” And if not on her own, I’d put my mouth to better use than this pep talk. “Follow me.”
A slow stroke and then I focus on the head, shifting my grip. Holding things up with one hand while the other slides along the glans, pulling the hood back.
“Try this.” I nudge her knee with mine. “Nice and slow.”
“Oh god.” Taylor’s fingers copy mine, trading glans for clit and foreskin for hood. Two fingers spread around either side of it, rubbing and teasing.
Her leg jerks, abs clenching.
“Don’t fight it.” I caution. “Relax, let it happen. And… look at me.”
I swallow. “Don’t think of anything else.”
Fuck how egotistical can you be? But it’s better than letting her get lost in her own head and memories, dark thoughts worming through well-worn neural pathways.
Every time she starts to feel doubt or anything unpleasant, I shamelessly pinch a little, rolling my hips into it, earning a little gasp from her. Before she can question it I make a noise– a soft groan or something higher and she reacts like a physical touch, fucking her hand.
It’s so fucking nice. Being helpful is novel and her trust is sweet. It’s a good thing I came so recently. Otherwise I’d have to edge a little to keep back for her.
I want to tell her how good she looks like this, sweaty and close to her peak, but I already know she’d pull back– thinking I was placating her, or lying, or just flat out wrong– and then I’d have to throw myself off the roof for ruining it.
Instead I show appreciation with my body, letting myself react to every little sound and escalation. Hoping she gets the message.
It’s hard to keep my eyes closed but I promised and the dark adds a new dimension, a tantalizing one. I know she looks so good like this and the oversized shirt is almost better than naked, I can feel it soft and bunched around her ribs and I want to kiss all the skin revealed by the timely migration.
Her pleasure spikes and rises in waves, just right, with me murmuring erotic little nonsense encouragements and Taylor eats it up, not looking away from the show I put on.
Taylor’s hand copies mine methodically and I make it so good for us, rubbing and grinding against my fingers even when it gets ridiculously sensitive.
Her shaky breath and rhythmic moans and pants fill the room, a gorgeous accompaniment to mine.
“Do you finger yourself?” I ask, when our sensitivity almost becomes too much to bear. Then again she’s only feeling half this sensation so maybe it’s not too much for her, yet, maybe I’m chickening out too soon for–
Movement, and Taylor is curving long, pale fingers around the back of my thighs. I stumble and have to catch myself with both hands, finding the sheets and what feels like a thigh– my power confirms it.
“What–” She pulls me forward and I walk on my knees until I’m knelt on her chest and Taylor smears her lips across my cock with a groan. Somehow it sounds relieved and the thought makes naked heat cascade down my neck. God.
“O-oh yeah?” I push her hair back with slow touches and she nuzzles in, nerves butterfly-bright in her belly but almost all of the simmering ‘bad’ emotions easing away to nothing.
“Mmhmm.” Taylor makes this face sometimes where she’s slack-jawed and brows together, a square cut to her jaw that toes the line from masculine to feminine on the exact opposite side from me.
I’m a pretty boy– fuck knows I’ve heard it any number of times, often the first thing anyone notices– but Taylor is a handsome girl and it really does it for me.
One day she might even be comfortable enough to hear as much from me and– fuck!
“Je veux t’bouche.” I gasp, meaning it both ways– in every way– and if I could I would kiss her again. Instead I try to keep breathing as she licks and sucks me so sweetly.
Her head tips back, my cock sliding on her tongue, and though I can’t see it I can feel the question there. Clever Taylor, always so curious, with none of Lisa’s power to fill in the blanks so she demands her answers.
My hand brushes her hair back from her face as I slide slowly, goadingly along her tongue.
“I want your mouth,” I translate, showing her exactly how much I mean it as my hips pull back just a little, rubbing the tip over her lips.
Taylor shivers and I twitch the nerves in her wrist, reminding her what her hands are meant to be doing.
Feeling her eyes go wide is almost as good as seeing it.
Since her hands are currently on my ass, it’s easy to notice one slipping shyly back down to her lap, would have been obvious even without nervesight to notice every little motion.
Her pleasure is easier now, an almost decadent note, honey-soft around the edges and her fingers are lazy-slow to match. As resident hedonist it does something to me to feel her indulging in the pleasure.
Especially pleasure I help give her, especially knowing– feeling– that she is genuinely appreciating having me here, doing this to me, that I’m making it better.
Sweat breaks out against my skin, little pinpricks of exertion that catch the air currents of the room, that make me perfectly aware of how hot I am, how close.
And I categorically refuse to cum before her, so evasive action was needed.
I trailed my hand down, fingertips brushing her chin. Moving with her mouth, not quite guiding it– her own rhythm was more than lovely– but giving the semblance of it, the control.
Taylor likes praise but more than that she likes doing well, a service switch if ever I saw one. Which means the key is not to applaud her performance so much as show her the results.
“That feels so good,” I admit, eyes squeezed shut and panting. She said as much, didn’t she? Thinking of her own self during the lead up yanks her away from the cliff’s edge, so I have to make it about me.
It’s thrilling and agonizing at the same time.
“Ah, I like that.” She tongues where my foreskin bunches up, the base of the head and I moan shamelessly.
Her eagerness is cute and it’s fucking working for me, too, all that deadly force and shy awkwardness thrown out in favor of fondness and eagerness and what can I say? Being wanted is always hot.
Being wanted by someone I– by them— is even better, is dangerous. Something with an edge because they know me, see me, and want me anyway, it’s–
“Mm!” Taylor’s high-pitched whine is muffled against me and the vibrato elicits a helpless groan. Her cheeks are so red, mouth more desperate, and she’s close.
Her fingers slip lower, teasing her wetness and she grinds into the heel of her hand, mean stinging pressure on her clit.
“I’m going to get you a vibrator,” I promise, laughing and sweaty and loving every second of this, every moment in my body, in hers.
She says something– tries to say something– and I’m so focused on her rapidly approaching orgasm that I don’t notice mine.
One moment I’m feeling her nerves, watching and waiting in case she goes off script again, and then next her left hand slides a little further back and she rubs fucking brazenly against my hole.
“Guh!” It’s not the most dignified– it is not at all dignified– but I’m caught off guard and still laughing somehow as it punches through me, and I can’t even pretend to be a gentleman about it; there was no warning for me, so Taylor also gets nothing.
I try to at least pull out to finish spurting somewhere else, only the silly girl presses me close by the literal taint and there’s nowhere to go, I can only bend in half gasping as she closes her eyes and moans.
“C’mon, let me out, I’m sensitive now.” I trace her jaw only to get baleful eyes glaring up at me. My dick twitches weakly on her tongue. “Okay, fine, you’re close and I don’t want it bitten off, that’s a thing.”
She wavers but glares more and I sigh, weaving in through the nerves I’ve been so admiring tonight.
“Fine.” Not quite taking control, I stay on the hair’s breadth trigger, ready to snatch it immediately if she does turn out to be one of those people who lock their jaw when they cum.
The little power play has not dulled her interest any, it should be said.
I’m still mostly hard in her mouth and I make that Taylor’s problem, grinning down at her.
“Look at you.” I can’t help but say, breaking my promise not to make this about her at all. She’s too far gone to care, which serves in my favor.
Actually she’s at a point where she just likes hearing my voice and clenches her pussy rhythmically which is, again, flattering in the extreme. These people are going to give me a complex.
“Hmm. Faster.” Since I’m watching now I might as well play it up, eye contact and everything. I dig deep into the embers of contentment I have right now, not hard when being like this– with them, in any way– is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to being happy, dangerous and beguiling and stupidly perfect–
I chase that nascent bud of emotion and make it everything, smiling down with a breathless grin that reaches my eyes, leveraging the look I’ve practiced in the mirror.
Taylor makes a startled, shocked sound– muffled by cock– and slips right over the edge.
… Okay wow I wanted to help things along, I didn’t think it would directly push her. The ehh-semi-fake smile drops even as my cheeks get warm, actually embarrassed a little that that worked so well, and then common sense kicks in and I rub more dick along her soft palette.
Her nerves go all gooey and shocky– real, scientific terms, thank you– and she sucks absently, her whole body tensing hard and relaxing. Feel-good chemicals flood us both and I take a metaphorical step back, letting her have complete control again.