The Offer
by Wrestlr
8.
Jack opened an eye. Saturday morning—yes, he remembered. The day after his birthday. The day after Dylan rejected him. He felt his new life had begun yesterday morning and ended yesterday evening. Jack rolled over under the soft sheets, ignoring his morning hard-on, and decided he did not want to face anyone. What if Dylan had told them all? What if they were laughing at him right then, the silly stupid “new dude” kid who thought he could play grown-up games just because he was magically one day older and legal. He climbed out of bed to empty his nagging bladder but got back under the covers afterward. No, Jack decided the only safe thing to do was to sleep in.
But somebody knocked at his bedroom door. Ike called through it, “It’s time for your session.”
“Ugh,” Jack protested at the thought of having to get out of bed, but he yelled at the door, “Okay,” to let Ike know he had heard. The Doctor. Jack had to get up and go talk to the Doctor. Dylan was right—the daily hypnosis was just part of the routine, like brushing his teeth.
Jack climbed out of bed. He was naked, naked and erect. He picked up that familiar pair of sweatpants and slipped them on, careful to tuck his hard-on inside gently. Surely the Doctor would not mind if he showed up in just his sweatpants. Jack would be going back to sleep after his session—minimal clothing would make stripping down for bed again easier. Besides, he had seen Ike go into sessions wearing only his jockstrap.
“Ah, Jack, right on time,” the Doctor greeted him, as he shuffled still sleep-groggy into the office. “It’s good to be on time, isn’t it? You know how I hate waiting. And you’re even a couple of minutes early. Eager, aren’t you? Well, after your screen test last night, I think you’re ready.”
Jack yawned. Screen test? He did not understand what the Doctor meant, but he said what always worked with his father: “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s get to it. This way,” the Doctor said, and led Jack not to the chair, but to a door on the opposite side of his office. He ushered Jack through.
The large room was separated into quadrants, each in a different theme. One had lockers and benches and looked like the locker rooms Jack remembered from school gym class. Another, the one to which the Doctor guided him, was done up as a bedroom: a bed, a nightstand.
Jack walked over to the bed and sat down. It seemed vaguely familiar. A camera watched him. No, not a camera—a bird—a bird with eyes like a camera. He yawned a second time, suddenly so sleepy all over again, and felt everything slide into place. He leaned back on the bed—no, not a mattress—a mossy, grassy clearing. Stage lights—no, sunlight—shone down on him. Jack grinned at the bird, sharing his secret place.
His sweatpants seemed out of place, so he pushed them off. Naked. Better. Yes. Relaxing. Sexy. Horny. Hard. Yes. Hard-on. Jack leaned back on the moss and stroked his cock under the sunlight. The bird leaned in for a closer look. Jack got up on his knees, putting on a show for the bird, and reached back to finger his asshole. The bird watched it all. Jack gasped, and his body bucked, and he stopped a second before he would have ejaculated. No, he told himself, mustn’t cum so soon, not yet.
Dylan was there. Jack smiled. Dylan had never visited this special clearing in the deep, peaceful woods with him before, but Jack was glad to see him. Dylan came closer. He wore only a pair of shorts. Jack liked looking at Dylan’s muscular chest and legs, the way they shown under the sunlight. Jack grinned, naked and brazen and proud to display himself for Dylan too.
Dylan looked down at Jack. Jack reached for him. Dylan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and dropped them. Now Dylan was as naked as Jack, and Jack realized that was good, so very good. Seeing Dylan naked for the first time was like his every fantasy coming true. Jack reached for Dylan’s semi-erect dick. His hand wrapped around it. He had been right: Dylan had a big one. Jack stroked it slowly, fascinated by the feel of it, the first cock he had ever touched other than his own. It swelled as he stroked it, becoming fully stiff.
Jack pulled Dylan toward him by his rod. He wanted to make love to this gorgeous man who had so much to teach him, and he wanted to be made love to, too. Dylan sank down onto the yielding moss with him. Jack did not know what to do next, other than the basic mechanics he had seen in videos, so he was happy when Dylan took the lead. They lay back on the ground, and Dylan bent over Jack’s face and kissed him, deeply, slowly, lingering. Dylan aligned their bodies to maximize the pressure of their hard dicks rubbing up against each other.
Jack allowed Dylan to caress him while they kissed. He allowed Dylan to kiss along his jaw and nibble at his ear. “More,” Jack muttered as he squirmed under Dylan’s hands and mouth. When Dylan moved his head lower, kissing Jack’s neck and throat, Jack arched his back in pleasure, as the warm sun beat down on them and the birds strained for a better look.
“Guh!” Jack gasped. Dylan’s hand had moved lower to sketch around his hard nipple, pulling on the nub, twisting gently. Lightning traveled straight to Jack’s dick, and he could not form a coherent sentence. His own hands were not moving, but gripped the grass below them. He groaned again as Dylan’s confident hand moved lower, twisting into the curly pubes at the base of Jack’s dick.
Dylan’s dick rubbed at Jack’s hip, thrusting hard against him. Jack was so close to orgasming here under this warm sunlight—Dylan’s hand pulling, twisting, searching at the base of Jack’s erection, Dylan’s teeth now on Jack’s nipple, a bite, a suckle, marking Jack’s flesh as Dylan’s, owning him. It was the most erotic thing Jack had ever felt, Dylan naked and moving against him, and an orgasm was building in Jack’s balls, his cock, the base of his spine.
Crap!—He was going lose it too quickly, but he was so relaxed he could barely form words: “Please ... slow ... gonna ...”
Dylan seemed more coherent. “I need to see you shoot it.”
“Gon’ ... cum ...”
“That’s right. Cum for me, Jack.” Dylan nipped at Jack’s nipple again.
Jack lost his fight to hold back. White heat made lightning-bolt runs from his crotch down to his toes and up to his head. He arched up into Dylan and ejaculated.
Jack sank back into the soft, comforting grass and moss. The intensity of his orgasm had left him incapable of thought or motion. His cock twitched against his stomach. His nipples burned softly from Dylan using them to push him so damn high so damn fast. Bliss, he decided.
“Gorgeous,” Dylan said simply, then tilted his head in for a kiss. Dylan groaned low in his throat, their tongues mingling, urgent, insistent. Their tongues battled for taste and touch as Jack became more confident, pushing hard against Dylan’s hard thrusts in his mouth—a fight for control. These acts—the naked need and the trust in them—excited Jack and scared him equally, but this clearing was a safe, peaceful place. He relaxed and enjoyed the feel of Dylan pushing his groin roughly against his, pushing for friction.
Dylan’s mouth and hands felt hungry against Jack’s skin, all searching lips lowered to nipples, and hands pulling and teasing, all of it drawing whimpers and moans from Jack’s blissed-out throat.
“Dylan ...” he mumbled happily, meaning to say more but not able to form his gasps into words.
“So gorgeous,” Dylan was saying, “so hot, taste so good,” interspersed with kisses and bites. The press of Dylan’s mouth and hands and body against Jack’s anchored him, kept him from drifting into the depths. Jack managed to move his hand, dropping across Dylan’s hair.
Jack saw Dylan’s erection hard and flush against his stomach. “Dylan,” he whimpered, meaning: Give me your cock. He was not begging, not yet, but he wanted it so much, wanted to taste what he had only touched before. He tried to speak, tried to push out words, but nothing made sense. Jack melted against the moss, a sigh escaping his mouth, his hand caressing Dylan’s hair. Just saying Dylan’s name left him gasping, moaning, asking for everything, incoherent, and out of his head with pleasure.
Dylan’s mouth was lower now, sliding along Jack’s renewed erection. Dylan hollowed his cheeks, alternatively sucking and moving and releasing. Jack decided it felt a hundred—no, a thousand—times better than he could have imagined. He sensed his body moving, on instinct, unconsciously tipping his pelvis, thrusting deeper into Dylan’s mouth. Dylan pulled back slightly as his gag reflex kicked in. The next time he was ready for Jack, and he held Jack’s hips, held him down so Jack could not move, held him down with both hands while his lips traveled along Jack’s dick, pushing up as his lips traveled down, wringing every ounce of pleasure from Jack’s body. One of Dylan’s hands disappeared, and Jack hoped Dylan was jacking himself off, giving himself the pleasure that Jack was too limp to perform, to match the pleasure Dylan’s mouth was giving Jack.
Dylan strangled a moan around Jack’s cock-shaft, a warning, and Jack felt his lover’s body tense, trying to pull back, and he pulled off. Jack moaned, hearing and feeling an answering release from Dylan, a gasp, a groan, a sigh, and Dylan’s dick spitting cum hot and hard against Jack’s leg. Dylan slumped against Jack, gasping for breath in the afterglow. This was, Jack decided, the hottest thing he had ever felt in his life.
Jack was malleable and shaking in Dylan’s control, under Dylan’s body still pressed so tightly against him. Dylan’s lips dragged final, breathless kisses, against Jack’s hip.
“So fucking hot,” Dylan whispered fiercely.
“Dih—l’nnnn ...,” was all Jack could get out.
At first, everything was nothing more than kissing, lazy and undefined, with no purpose other than to taste, to tease, and Jack started to relax under Dylan. When the kisses became deeper and more urgent, they felt like a natural progression, and when Dylan was sucking on his nipples, lapping at them with his tongue and scratching his teeth across them, it was heaven. Jack felt his cock twitch and tingle.
Dylan pulled aside and rolled Jack face-down on the moss. Dylan seemed to want to take this slow, but the urgency Jack felt had him squirming beneath the larger man, grinding his boner against the rough grass beneath him. Dylan’s kisses hunted for the taste of Jack’s skin, stopping every so often to suck more small marks of possession, murmuring how hot Jack was, as Dylan pressed his arm across Jack’s hips to hold him still.
Jack felt Dylan slather lube between his ass cheeks. Was he using enough? Too much? Worry tugged at Jack’s thoughts, but a deep breath of the fresh air all around them helped him relax. The worry and tension slipped away, replaced by complete trust in his lover. Was that Dylan’s finger in his ass?—Please let it be a finger. Those fingers drove in, all sizzling stretches and perfect pressure. The prostate; Jack remembered the name from a gay sex education primer he read online without his parents knowing. Wasn’t it supposed to be tricky to find sometimes? How had Dylan’s fingers managed to dive right for it? There was some pain, a weird sensation of fullness, but also growing pleasure. No way—no fucking way was Jack cumming so soon, with nothing but fingers up his ass. Shit!—How could he feel this good and not shoot? How could there be so much pleasure spilling over through his body without it spilling out his dick? Dylan’s fingers felt burning-hot, sliding, stretching, twisting, massaging the gland inside Jack’s ass that sent his head flying skyward.
Jack felt himself demanding, whimpering, moaning, and pleading for more. Dylan’s hands seemed rough yet finessed at the same time, never pausing, never uncertain, all eagerness to answer Jack’s needs. Damn, Jack wondered, how is it Dylan knows my body so well and it’s our first time? He decided this was the advantage of having an experienced lover. Jack moaned Dylan’s name into the moss beneath him, appreciatively.
Dylan pulled his fingers out. Jack looked over his shoulder; he watched Dylan roll on a condom with practiced ease, watched Dylan press the head of his cock against the loosened muscle between Jack’s ass cheeks, holding Jack down to prevent him from squirming. Jack wanted to see everything as Dylan pushed at his legs again for better access and inched his way in, pulling back, pushing in, until at last he rested inside Jack’s hole, inside his body.
Dylan seemed to be watching him for a sign, Jack decided, any indication of pain. Jack felt some pain from being entered, but he wanted this, wanted to be a virgin no longer, wanted Dylan to make a man out of him. He moaned, hoping Dylan would interpret that as permission. Dylan took the decision away from him, pushing down, his eyes glassy, groaning too, and Dylan moved, leaning down to kiss Jack’s neck as he set a fuck-rhythm that made Jack’s head fly again.
Jack did not want to cum yet. He wanted Dylan to take his pleasure, to take his ass and own it. Jack had never seen anything as beautiful as this man moving above him, so beautiful Jack could hardly breathe.
Dylan rolled Jack over, onto his back, hoisted Jack’s over his shoulders. Leaning forward, one hand anchored on each of Jack’s arms just below the shoulder, Dylan held him pinned to the ground. Jack wrapped his legs around Dylan’s neck. He needed touch, craved touching and being touched. He wanted to touch Dylan’s chest hovering above him. He wanted to touch his own cock. He wanted so much. He wanted everything. The motion of Dylan fucking his ass felt awkward and perfect at the same time. Dylan seemed to sense Jack’s need, because he pulled one hand back, gripped Jack’s erection, and jacked it as he buried himself impossibly deeper in Jack’s ass, then pulled out until only the tip of him remained inside the dark, tight heat. Every pass of Dylan’s dick inside his ass made Jack groan and arch his neck, desiring and fearing the ecstasy at the same time, wanting the penetration, wanting to be owned, fearing the climax building in his balls.
“Close ... fuck ...” Jack tried to get a warning sentence together, failed, but then came the warmth of his jizm spurting out of his cock, coating Dylan’s sliding, gliding hand as Jack’s orgasm stiffened his body and made him shout his release. Dylan would not, could not, stop and bowed his head to touch his forehead to Jack’s, his spine stiff, trembling, his breathing ragged. At the last moment, he pulled his cock from Jack’s asshole, tugged the condom efficiently off his dick, and hand-whacked his meat until he shot hard across Jack’s stomach and chest, shuddering through his pleasure. Jack had never seen another man’s penis erupt in real life before. He decided he liked it. Dylan tilted his head a bit and they kissed.
Jack stayed still momentarily. He had many words in his head, but none that he could make his mouth form. Dylan pulled away, lowered Jack’s legs. He tossed the rubber aside. Dylan rolled onto his back alongside Jack, one arm over his eyes. “Fuck,” Dylan panted.
“Uhnnn,” was Jack’s best response because he was already closing his eyes and sinking into the darkness.