Page 61 of Heart

George watched himself disappear into Mikey’s devouring mouth. He felt the dark beard bristles prickle his naked flesh as Mikey fellated... persistent and merciless.

Mikey retrieved one hand and dropped it low, latching onto George’s testicles and tugging gently.

“Oh, Mikey, that’s good. That’s so good.”

Mikey moaned, trembling with George in his mouth. He pulled back, curling his tongue to cradle the shaft as he reverse-stroked.

George felt the surge rising. Instinctively, he pulled back—but Mikey grunted “no,” clutching him from behind again, roughly with both hands, pulling him forward, refusing to be denied.

“Oh, fuck,” George said. He came, liquid fire pouring from him. He collapsed further onto Mikey’s shoulders, head light, his energy spilling with him.

Mikey continued to work George as his climax waned. He withdrew some but still held him from behind, preventing complete evacuation—sucking him for real now, at a more manageable distance, milking every drop like a baby calf.

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Mikey chuckled, finally releasing him. George was swaying.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since the first time I saw you, George.”

He was still panting. “I hope it was worth the wait.”

“It was.” He reached out for another playful squeeze. “Every bit.”

“I need to sit down a minute.”

He patted the space next to him and George collapsed into it, pants still around his ankles.

Mikey quickly slid off of the couch and knelt before him. He lifted his feet one at a time and removed his shoes, then his pants and underwear, leaving his socks on.

“Sit back down,” George said. “Relax. Stop worrying about me.”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I’m fine,” he said, sitting back down gingerly.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing. And this is weird. I’m naked and you’re not.” George stood again, reaching for him. “Here, stand up.”

“No. It’s all good, George.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I... I made a little bit of a mess.”

“Did you come?”

Mikey looked up at him. His expression said it all.

“It’s no biggie, but you can’t just sit there, marinating in it. Give me those clothes... Let’s get you cleaned up and more comfortable.”

Mikey toed-off his shoes and began wriggling out of his jeans. George grabbed the cuffs and pulled them off, folding them, and placing them over the nearby desk chair. When he turned back, he saw why Mikey had been uneasy. The light blue fabric of his boxers was soaked through, a large Rorschach pattern of darker blue encompassing most of the front as if someone had pelted him in the crotch with a water balloon... enough liquid that the thin fabric was practically transparent. George could see the outline of Mikey’s softened penis beneath.

“Stand up.”

He did, and George crouched down, lowering his underwear with subtle care, like that of a parent with a child.

Mikey stepped out of it and George straightened, holding them up to the desk lamp. “Wow,” he said, looking at Mikey. “That’s... quite a load there.”