Mumble mumble, something about not writing anything for here until I was done with my Harringrove Week stuff. I know, I know, but I couldn’t resist after I saw @stevewhoreington and @ezra-starkiller reblog this post about jerking someone off in a mirror and making a mess of them.
Billy was absolutely wrecked. It was a Sunday morning, a lazy one spent in bed, sipping coffee and trading sections of the newspaper, bodies pressed close where they sat up against the headboard.
It had started when Billy had noticed Steve looking at him in the reflection of the mirrored closet doors at the end of their bed. “Like what you see, pretty boy?” He’d said with a wink.
Billy answered his own question when he looked down and noticed the large tent in Steve’s boxers. He started to slide his hand down to cup the bulge, but Steve stopped him midway.
“No,” he said, placing his hand on Billy’s arm. “I want to make you feel good. Come here.” He motioned to his lap. Billy wasted no time shucking his boxers and taking a seat.
By now, billy was half hard himself, and Steve got him the rest of the way by slowly stroking him with one hand and plucking at his nipples with the other. Billy’s back arched and he gasped when Steve gave one of the nipples a hard pinch. He wanted to scold the other man, but Steve would know he was lying. He knew how much Billy liked a little pain mixed in with his pleasure. He always had, right back to when they’d first started fucking, fists flying and teeth gnashing, rolling around like two feral cats.
Steve’s thumb collected the drops of pre that had gathered at the head of Billy’s dick, smearing it down his length to help slick the way. He whispered words of sweet praise in Billy’s ear, telling him what a good boy he was, how gorgeous and special he was. Billy ate it up, coming to his climax fast, covering his chest and thighs and Steve’s fist in his spend.
He thought it would be Steve’s turn after that, even tried turning around to get a hand on the other man, but Steve planted his hands on Billy’s shoulders, firmly turning him back around.
The next orgasm came a lot slower. Steve took his sweet time slowly running his hands all over Billy’s body, down his thighs, over his abs, pulling on Billy’s earlobes like he knew he liked so much, eliciting little whines. He ran his hands through Billy’s hair, scratching as he went, and Billy groaned, deep in his chest at the sensation. “You want me to touch you, baby? Show me where.”
Billy takes Steve’s hand, guiding it to his dick, which by now is painfully hard. He moans as Steve finally wraps his hand around him, bucking up into Steve’s fist. Billy looks down and watches, mesmerized, as Steve works him, spreading a mix of pre and cum all over. Steve takes Billy’s chin in his other hand, guiding him to look up, at their reflection. “Look at you, baby. So pretty like this.” Billy does look, taking in his flushed chest and messy hair, his splayed thighs and red nipples and dick. It is a pretty sight.
Slowly, slowly, Steve’s pace builds, and he sucks hard on Billy’s neck as he lets go, adding to the mess on his chest and thighs. He pants, his eyes closing and his head falling back against Steve’s shoulder.
The third time feels like too much, but Steve insists, reminding Billy that they’ve got all the time in the world, and he wants to make Billy feel good, and who is Billy to argue with that?
He lets Steve make good on his promise, laying back and enjoying the show that they’re putting on for themselves in the mirror, bathed in the golden sunlight that’s streaming through the window.
Eventually, Steve gets his fingers involved, has Billy on all fours, facing the mirror, working lube slick fingers in and out of Billy’s hole as he continues to jerk him, working him so painfully slow.
By the time he reaches his end, he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, and he’s whimpering and wiggling, so ready for it that he can feel it in his bones. He comes suddenly, with a gasp, and he feels absolutely filthy. Looks absolutely filthy.
“Come on, Steve. I really think it’s your turn now,” he says, turning his head to capture Steve’s lips in a kiss. Steve agrees, laying Billy back against the ahead board as he leans back on his knees, positioning himself so he’s aiming at Billy’s lap. It doesn’t take much for Steve to cum, not after the morning they’ve had. It’s just a few strokes before he’s shooting off all over Billy. He collects some of his spend with this fingers and feeds it to Billy, smearing it all over his lips.
“Look at you,” Steve says, gesturing to the mirror. “My beautiful, beautiful boy. My good boy. Can my good boy come again?”
Even as Billy shakes his head no, he knows he will. Steve’s touch and words of praise feel too good, and Billy’s far too boneless and sated to really protest. All he can do is look into the mirror, his eyes catching Steve’s, before roaming all over his body to admire the mess that Steve’s made.
