Black Velvet (83) NSFW (Patreon)

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warnings: sexual content/frantic blowjobs? 

—

"But I'm not," I hesitate, averting my eyes to the cabinet with another flare of heat at my neck. I stretch the sleeve of my cardigan over the back of my hand, then use it to wipe at my tingling lips. "I want to. But I'm not prepared — like last time. Um."

I shrug with an embarrassed laugh,

"...It's not a very spontaneous sort of activity."

Tobias nods, his chest rising slowly. He tilts my face to the side, eyes scanning my features — with a look more forthcoming and passionate than I'm used to.

"Then. What are you okay with?"

I don't mean to stay silent. I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. I should say something, but I can't find a way to wrap my head around the next step, or the way he's looking at me.

"Well. I mean — is this too awkward for you?  What I was doing?" I ask finally, "... Uh. It's my first time.  Obviously — but I think that we have a lot of first times left to be awkward about, so that's not saying much."

"I loved it." Tobias huffs out a laugh, his thumb brushing my jaw-line, up to my lips — skims them, and lingers. He pushes his thumb harder against them, like an experiment — a touch that feels like longing.  "... But you're left out."

"I'm not. I like - well. I love it, too." I laugh.  I briefly shut my eyes and lean into his hand before his grip slips to my neck. I hum out a soft noise, one that's over-stimulated and somehow still content,

"Then," Tobias' brows gather, eyes lidding,

"... It's your lead," I tell him, and Tobias' hips shift in front of me, his other hand lifting to cup my cheek. I lean further against him, "If. Can I keep going? We'll figure it out."

Tobias tucks a hair behind my ear with a tilt of his head,

"Are you sore?"  His thumb is against my lips, slowly dragging from top to bottom. "On the floor?"

"No." I watch him. "But I'll bill you for the hot chocolate burns."

Tobias smiles at that, still crooked and hijacked by desire,

"... I never thought I'd want something like this," He says it calmly, and the thought that he's become so open leaves me in wonder. Tobias guides my hand back to him. My fingers wrap back around his length and stroke down it in a light fist. "You on your knees. Seems fucked up to like it."

I shake my head, grip tightening when heat stirs in my stomach,

"I'm on them because I want to be."

"... Maybe that's why."

I don't understand why I like the sound of Tobias' voice — but I loop both hands around the dip of his waist like an embrace, swallowing him without a chance to continue convincing him that I'm okay— because his wants, they might always come second to him, carrying with them an honesty that Tobias has been taught to question.

He bucks softly, hands in my hair, a deep-seated groan,

"This feels like teasing."

My stomach dives again, heavy with lust, the bluntness of fingertips digging into the rough fabric of his jeans. I pull back,

"It's not teasing." I inhale desperately, "because you can take anything you want. Just take what you want."

"... Is it really okay?" The dark-haired man holds my face. He cradles me with one hand like I'm precious. I feel my cheeks grow warmer, sure that he can feel it against his palm.

"Do you think," Tobias' fingers slide into my hair, much tighter than before. I glance up to meet his heavy gaze, a dark smoke to them — curious to hear what's caused the thick honey in his voice, "that burn? The way you reacted. You..."

I grab onto the hand on my hair and push forward, only because I know that he won't take the first step. I let his dick hit the back of my throat — and, although the no-teeth thing is proving to be a complex concept to master, I do it again, squeezing my eyes shut as the burn settles at the back of my tongue, and I gasp around him, heady with confirmation.

Then I nod, whatever question Tobias might have asked, and whatever embarrassment I felt before, fades with lust — without interruption or deflection because Tobias reels from it.

"Jesus, Oliver,"

It's my name on his lips, shuddered and scraping as he desperately grinds forward, rough enough that I would tumble without his fist in my hair. I catch cut-off compliments about my eyes — his desire for my mouth, the sensitive length of him carving a place on my tongue,

"Oliver,"  he murmurs a second time, and I feel his free hand on my cheek turning from a soft touch to a frantic tug at my curls, and I gasp. It fuels him, pushes him closer to me, and I moan softly because he's pulling out, dragging his tip harshly against my mouth — pressing the edge of it past my lips,

"Mm,"  butterflies tumble in my belly when two of Tobias' fingers slide alongside it, fucking forward into a wet heat — hooking over my tongue — "fuck, you're beautiful."

"Look up,"  he whispers, and I do — a soft pop when the slick side of his fingers pull from my swollen mouth. I stare up at him — dazed, fingers restless at his sides, "get up —"  he says it urgently, raw with need,  "Get up and get on the couch."

"The couch?"

"The couch."

Dazed, I stumble to my feet, his hands on my shoulders carrying most of my weight. Then Tobias presses up behind me, his long legs impatient - pushing me forward until I fall into a slight jog. Then, finally, his arms loop around my waist, my pant button freed in the journey from the kitchen floor to the dead center of his couch cushions, and there he shoves me into place.

"Spread your legs,"

I start to question Tobias again but become distracted by his fervor, watching as he yanks down my zipper — then the entirety of my damp pants from my legs, lifting my lower half with embarrassing ease - before he shoves my thighs apart, broad shoulders in the space between them as he kneels.

"How did - Woah.  You sure know — how to make a guy feel manly," The joke trails into something breathless. I find myself blinking heat from my eyes, fingers nestled at the chest of my cardigan. I'm not used to feeling this way. I glance towards my crumpled pants, then back to Tobias.

It's not necessarily bright in the living room, but it's just bright enough to make me feel exposed. Tobias is moving slowly enough now, his regard heavy and hunting, reverent as his lips trail up my inner thigh.

I feel dissected.

"Oh — what are you...?"

"Be still."

Tobias' palm covers my hands, then his ringed fingers tighten over them, holding them down against my chest. The fabric of both my cardigan and t-shirt catch under his grip, belly exposed just enough for him to nose at, cheek sliding from my hipbone over the sore skin just above my navel.

His teeth dig in there, a light bite, hot tongue laving over the redness he leaves. I think to cover my mouth, or maybe my face, hips twisting,

"Tobias, this isn't necessary," I don't have anything else to say, the thought lost to another bite and a soft exhale. He trails to the sensitive skin at the waistband of my boxers. My head falls back against the couch, eyes on the ceiling, his free hand grabbing, clutching the sides of my waist, the outside of my thigh, squeezing,

"... You don't want me to?" Tobias' whisper is featherlight on my reddened skin, tone concerned enough that I want to kiss him and affected enough that my hips buck. Tobias chuckles, his grip on my hands tight,

"It's just really — really... There's a lot of lights on, and you're going really slow - so I," My teeth clack together as I close my mouth, wiggling, "do you want to?"

"Yeah, I want to." Tobias sounds feverish. He leans up, chest to chest, and kisses me with the same intensity in his voice. He hums again, breath short and hot at my throat.  Then there are teeth at my neck and tongue, and a nip to my lip that doesn't seem intentional at all. He pants into my mouth, then kisses me again.

"I like this," he breathes, "I like seeing you like this."

"Oh.  Okay."  I nod, chewing on the sting of my bottom lip.  I feel softened by his affection. "Okay — let's do it."

Tobias tugs the last bit of clothing down to my thighs and further, and then he slings one thigh over his shoulder. I jolt upwards, my hands still covering one another under his,

"That's a little," It's hardly a whisper, shy — and then there's heat. It's an unbelievably wet kind of heat, one that has my leg hooking around Tobias' back. I let out a strangled smatter of words instead of a proper sentence and then, pitifully, an "oh."

Tobias hums, eager. He slides down again, lifting my other leg, caging himself between the cross of them. My hands fist under his, desperately gathering fabric. I moan and buck backward - trying to escape the warmth of his mouth, voice strangled as he bobs again, relentless, a wet slide of his tongue, a slow suck - and he pulls off not to laugh, but to chuckle, all pride - all ego lighting in his smirk.

I fluster, wiggling in his grasp,

"Why did..."

"Quit wiggling."

"Well. I don't know how else,"  I swallow,  "to tell you how much I'm not going to make it if you don't stop," I inhale then as he kisses the tip, my voice gone ragged and lost, and Tobias stares at me - his smile fading into something much heavier and hellbent, and then he swipes his tongue upwards again.

"Then I guess you'll cum."

I watch his dark eyes, his wet tongue, brows gathering, my own gaze lidding at his blatant defiance. I gasp as my confession turns into a challenge.

"Oh my god."  Then I arch, soft moans merging into another attempt for air, heartbeat audible and breath unsteady, and Tobias takes everything, groaning, a small puff of air at my hip.

"Tobias, seriously, if you don't, ah!"  I twist under him, thrashing, the heel of my foot aimlessly knocking at his back. My stomach flips.  Tobias' fingers curl over mine on my chest, holding them. There's a heat that grows inside, an ache that nestles bone-deep, "Oh my God, I love you, but you need to,"

Tobias ' breath hilts. His nose wrinkles, his hips bucking into nothing. He grips the underside of my thigh, pulling me in deeper, and presses forward, my hips sore with the stretch of his body between them. He shoves his weight onto my hands, pinning me, and takes,

"Tobias," I choke on my breath, rutting my hips upwards, encouraging him, and it feels a lot like begging. I repeat his name. "Please."  I roll against the soft pallet of his mouth, and I cling to who he is.

"Mm, fuck, please."  With a strangled moan, unable to escape the heat of his attentions, I hurtle over the edge without any chance to warn him again, toes curled, mouth falling open.  Tobias' holds me through it, doesn't repent until I'm overstimulated — kicking at his back.

My heartbeat thunders, lashes fluttering.  He pulls away and pins me with a stare that borders feral, wiping at his lips,

"Oh - I'm so sorry," it's a quiet mumble, body drooping, and face hot as Tobias releases me. "I tried to..."

My hypersensitive thighs slide from his shoulders, and he stands. My thoughts are less than mush, afterthoughts that circle hazily as I pant, cheeks flushed, searching for steadier air.

But Tobias moves fast.

"Mm, just," Tobias groans, curses under his breath, lost, his knee dipping the cushion. He pushes my sweater up quickly, exposing my belly. I let him press me back into the couch, let his knees cage my sides. He drapes himself over me and exhales,

"Suck."

My eyes widen.  I swallow, then nod, dazed as he presses into my mouth slowly, curling my lips around the heaviness of his length.  Then when he withdraws, using his leverage to return slick, faster,

"That's it —  fuck, Oliver —"  Tobias coaxes, shuddering.  He grabs fistfuls of my hair, his grip warm, and thrusts off-center and rough. It's a rhythm set by someone who wants.  He chases the heat, worries forgotten, gentle touch turned urgent. "Begging like that."

He cups the curve of my cheeks, and squeezes just hard enough, using the press of his thumbs to spread my lips.  He watches me with dark eyes before his nose wrinkles; jaw wound tight as his head lolls back.

I welcome the desperate slide of him, panting when I can, breath loud from my nose, his pace quick and sharp — but then Tobias stills, bowing over me, shuddering, warm as a bitterness hits my throat— and he groans with small jerks of his hips, burying himself until I push palms against his stomach — both gasping as Tobias drags himself out with saliva and salt,

Then it's quiet, though he lays arched over my lap, forehead on the couch back.  I'm too tired to move, only offering the messy air that's been stolen from my lungs,

"Are you..."

"So sorry?"  Tobias mimics, unfairly casual, though his voice is just as lost as mine.  He chuckles.  "... Not at all."

I startle with a laugh.