Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

“You can fuck whoever you want once I’m done with you. This isn’t about being together. It’s about being able to enjoy each other without worrying about where you’ve been. That guy out there looked like a walking petri dish.”

“There’s a difference between playing it safe—which I encourage—and sex-shaming. I told you I’m on PrEP.”

“This is my only stipulation. Take it or leave it.”

I’ve never been good at focusing on one person, and I’ve never seen a reason to, but we both know this is only temporary. I’m sure I can keep my wandering hands in my pockets until Anton and I have this out.

“No more begging?” I ask.

“Not unless you want to.”

Fat chance. “You going to fuck me here, then?”

“I had another idea.” Anton drops to his knees and flips his hat so it’s on backward, and my legs buckle.

Anton Hayes is about to suck my dick. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about this because I have. A lot. I’ve been wanting to find out if Anton’s mouth is as talented as his cock.

Some guys are teases, drawing out blowjobs like they have all the time in the world to taste, suck, and slurp all over your dick. They try to make it into a work of art. And sure, that can be hot as hell, but sometimes you really need them to get to business.

It shouldn’t surprise me that Anton is the other type—the type who can go straight to deep-throating you while tugging on your balls to the point you’re on the brink of coming after ten seconds.

“Holy fuck.” My head falls back and makes a thud against the wall, but I don’t care.

He takes all of me to the root, his nose buried in my groin while his throat works around the head of my dick, and when I pull out halfway so I can thrust back inside, he takes it easily.

Had I known how good he was at fucking and sucking, I might have made the effort to put aside our differences a long time ago.

I keep going with shallow thrusts, enjoying the buildup while cautious of how much he can take, but like me, Anton must get impatient with blowjobs because he stops playing with my balls and reaches around to grip my ass. He sets the pace and depth, and damn it’s an impressive depth. I briefly worry about breaking his nose with my pelvis, but that thought disappears when his hand dips into the crease of my ass.

The second the pad of his finger presses against my hole, I unleash inside his mouth.

I try to hold back the moans I usually let go of while I come because I’m conscious of others in this space, but holding out means the sounds that come out of me are desperate and strained.

When I’m spent, I tap Anton’s shoulder and sag against the wall. He stands, looking as smug as ever, and then he grips my shoulder tight to push me down.

“Need to … Breath … can’t catch,” I say.

“Trust me. This will be fast. Open up.”

I lazily open my mouth and let him inside, but unlike him, I’m too blissed-out and recovering from that monster of an orgasm to really put in any effort.

Anton doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t force it on me either. He pushes about a quarter of the way inside, and I manage to swirl my tongue around the tip. Then he keeps his thrusts small and shallow while he takes his hand and strokes himself.

I’m on the floor, cock still hanging out of my pants, while he uses my mouth to get himself off.

He leans forward, putting his hand on the wall to hold himself up while he takes his own pleasure from me.

This might be even hotter than doing it myself.

“Will you swallow?” he grits out, and I give a small nod.

When he does come, his thick thighs quake, and I grip them tight as if that can help hold him up.

I regret our road head incident not ending like this, with my mouth full of his cum, but I can say it was worth the wait. I swallow him down, drinking him in, and then a second later, his cock slips from my mouth, and Anton slinks to the ground next to me.

I lean over and wipe my mouth on his shoulder, and he laughs and shoves me off him.

“This probably isn’t the most sanitary place to sit,” I point out.

“True.” He puts himself away, and I do the same. Then he stands and holds out his hand. “Let’s get back to the hotel.”

The warm Texas air hits us, but we’re silent as we wait for a cab. I almost don’t want to ruin this with words. Almost.

I go to open my mouth, but Anton covers it.