Brett tilts his head to the side as he sends a warm glance to Santiago. They make eye contact for only a moment and suddenly Brett lets out a soft gasp at the sensation of the other boy’s lips brushing below his navel. The intensity had picked up almost instantly and Brett can see that the slow, sweet, sentimental atmosphere had disappeared as quickly as their brief exchange of glances. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, but he knows that he does.
Santiago’s hot breath on Brett’s exposed skin snaps the boy away from his train of thought and causes Brett to become increasingly aware of the sensation in his abdomen and his overwhelming desire to be touched. Without even a second thought, Brett curls his fingers around the waist of Santiago’s jeans and tugs them down his hips.
His fingers dip down under the elastic of the other boy’s boxers and he gently brushes his fingertips over Santiago’s erection. Brett waits for the reaction of his friend before continuing further, taking him in his hand and stroking the boy in a steady rhythm. It felt different to Brett— good, but different. It felt slow— awkwardly slow but it was also new and intimate. Brett lowers himself and grips onto Santiago’s hips, parting his lips and sliding his tongue over his friend’s exposed length.
There’s something satisfying about Brett not taking off his boxers entirely. Having them still pressing against his hips as he bucks into his friend’s hand.
But that’s taking away from the actual fact that Brett’s hand is around his dick. Jerking him off slowly in that teasing way he loves and hates at the same time. He doesn’t know how Brett got him beneath him, and when a tongue swipes down him, he doesn’t really care. Too caught up in the sudden way his chest expands and how his mind goes blank apart from wanting more.
Santiago fists one hand in Brett’s blond hair, moving it to grip the back of his neck while the other touches the boy’s jaw. Feeling the way his mouth stretches to take him in his mouth.
If anything that thought, and the flash of blue eyes staring at his flushed face, makes him harder. Hotter. Wanting.
“God.” He seethes as Brett drags his mouth over his tip. There’s nothing more he wants than to make himself last, but Brett knows his body better than anyone. Knows how to draw him to the brink, to push him away, abuse and reward him. No one makes him come like Brett.
If he were in his right mind that thought would make him leap out of his skin.
But he’s not and he trails his right hand around the base of his dick, whimpering as Brett’s lips kiss his knuckles on the way down.
It's almost instinctual for Brett to nuzzle his face into the palm of Santiago's hand. He bats his eyelashes almost as if this is his first time and he loves it. Well, the second part is true but hardly the first-- he can't count how many times he's done this, but he enjoys it more and more each time. Brett slides his tongue along the underside of Santiago's cock and then presses a teasing kiss on the tip of the head.
Then he looks up and bats his eyelashes once again.
He only ever does that for Santiago. Nobody else deserved it. No one else satisfied him like Santiago could, whether he was doing the pleasing or the one being pleased. There was something so addicting about the way their bodies worked together-- he doesn't want it any other way. Brett repositions himself so that he's completely on top of the other boy, lowering his hips down just barely against Santiago's. He sinks down and kisses Santiago once, twice, three times-- nipping on the boy's fuller lip as he pulls himself off to remove his jeans.
He removes his remaining articles of clothing without any difficulty, crawling back over to Santiago. Brett lays on his back, completely exposed, letting his fingers ghost downwards from his chest. Stopping his fingers right before he can touch his own erection, with a playful smirk Brett looks up at Santiago. Two can play this game.
