!!explicit content below!!
Movie nights with Pope, but you two can never make it through an entire movie without ending up in some sort of precarious position. It's inevitable, what with the way you start out, lounging on the couch in practically nothing. Pope in his boxers, you in one of his t-shirts. It's truly a recipe for disaster because the moment your head hits his lap the temptation outweighs any desire to pay attention to whatever you've put on the TV.
Before long your fingers are skimming the edge of his boxers, threatening to slip beneath the band. Pope will give you a pointed look. He knows exactly what you're up to. This routine is one he's entirely too familiar with. He says your name. It comes out hoarse, crackling as he tries to show an ounce of restraint.
"What is it?" Your voice lilts while you blink up at him, as if you don't have the faintest idea of what you're doing to himâof what he's so determinedly trying to mask. But he's failing miserably. His cock is already achingly hard, and you can tell.
"The movieâŚ" he grumbles, eyes flicking to the screen briefly.
"What about it?" You ask. The tiniest smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. "You're perfectly welcome to continue watching, Andy."
Your hand finally commits to what it's been teasing at, sliding into his boxers and tugging him free. His breath hitches as you wrap your hand around his cock and give it a few strokes. Slowly, you pull your hand up and run your thumb over the tip where a bead of pre has gathered before you drag back downwards. Then, without warning, he feels the heat of your mouth around him. And just like that, any hope of paying attention to the movie is out the window.
Better luck next time.
