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"So, Chuck. Would you mind telling me what the fuck you were thinking when you served me that?" Taylor asks his roommate, who's smoking a blunt as he drives them home from Starlight City to Tastyville. While he looks quite chill and deadpan, Chuck is quite nervous in reality.
"I mean, what would you realistically do with a thousand and twenty-six chicken wings?" Chuck says as he exhales smoke out the window, shaking the blunt a bit to rid it of some ash. "I know you'd take them home for the family."
"We don't have any, Chuck." Taylor quips. "Plus, considering the size of our apartment, our jobs, the fact that we've only been going out for four years and the fact that we're not even engaged, why would we even have kids to take this home to?"
Chuck is kinda perplexed. "Why do you assume I meant kids?"
Taylor goes red in the face, clears his throat and stammers out "I, uh, don't know."
Chuck is even more fucking perplexed. Nonetheless, he shakes it off.
Then, they hit a speed bump, and a good 20 wings fly out of each of the 10 bags Taylor has for said wings and everywhere in the car. Taylor suppresses a loud shout, and Chuck notices.
"You are so not off the hook. We're resolving this at home." Taylor says, Chuck is now absolutely certain he's fucked.
He was not off the hook. At all.
"Fuck, Taylor— Fuck, yes, ohhh fuck yes!" Chuck moans out, gripping the armrest he's lying against like a lifeline, his left leg draped over the backrest of the couch as his right leg dangles off it, his jeans and boxers haphazardly pulled down to his ankles. Taylor is still fully clothed, lying between his legs and eating him out aggressively, his fingers buried deep inside Chuck's wet, puffy cunt, twisting and thrusting against his g-spot relentlessly.
Chuck heaves for breath, his hips bucking against Taylor's mouth and hand occasionally, his throat is slowly wearing out with each pathetic noise he makes. "Yes! Oh fuck, Taylor—" Chuck whines, his legs twitching.
Taylor releases Chuck's clit from his mouth, looking him dead in the eyes. "Y'know, our neighbors can hear you, especially if you're screaming like this." Taylor mutters, almost shy. "Would be a shame if they came to yell at us like last time, no?"
Chuck swallows hard, he urges himself to not thrust back against Taylor's mouth for the stimulation on his clit. He tries to use his words to plead but he can't. He can only moan at the loss of contact. "Please..." He manages to rasp out, his left hand quivering over his mouth, but not covering it. Taylor knows he has the intention of using it to stay quiet, so he complies with Chuck's plea and ravages him again, making him bite his hand and suppress what is damn near a scream, high-pitched and needy, when he feels Taylor's tongue lap his clit rhythmically.
Taylor can feel that Chuck is close, he takes note of every spasm and every leak from his pussy and only works faster, making Chuck squeal into his hand as the coil built up in his stomach starts to tighten.
Chuck loses control little by little, nails digging into the cheap leather of the couch, vocal cords working exhausted from how high his voice is getting. "TAYLOR!! FUCK, fuck, fuck— Make me cum, PLEASE!" Chuck shouts, his bitten hand red with the outline of his teeth. He's so close, he just wants the release of orgasm already.
But then Taylor stops entirely.
Chuck groans in displeasure, Taylor removes his fingers from his cunt and sits up, still between Chuck's legs.
"I warned you~" Taylor teases with a sing-song. "You're not off the hook."
"Fuck you, Taylor." Chuck breathes, his cheeks still red.
"No, Chuck. Fuck you." Taylor retaliates calmly, unoffended. "You did give me 1,026 raw chicken wings."
Taylor teases Chuck's clit with his index finger, making him whine needily. "God, I'm sorry, Tay, please just fuck me..." Chuck rasps out, Taylor simply grins.
"Beg, slut." He snaps, ridding himself of his belt and tossing it onto the floor.
Chuck shudders in arousal. "I want you, Taylor. Please, fuck me until I can't breathe, break my fucking cervix, rail me, please—" Taylor holds Chuck's chin and looks him in the eyes, he analizes his expression and huffs, still grinning.
"Good boy." Taylor says, kissing Chuck on the forehead, then his cheek, and then his lips, making him whimper softly. Meanwhile, Taylor slips off Chuck's clothes, leaving him just his unbuttoned hawaiian shirt. Chuck's hand fumbles for Taylor's pants, nearly ripping them as he yanks them down. Taylor simply lets him have his fun.
"I want you." Chuck gasps, managing to rid Taylor of both his pants and boxers, taking his hard-on in hand and jerking him off. Taylor still sits there nonchalantly, he just watches Chuck touch him desperately and position himself on his lap, gaping hole just above the hot tip, and that's when Taylor realizes.
"Chuck, wait." Taylor grips Chuck's waist firmly, stopping him from doing anything yet. "Shouldn't I wear a condom? Since, y'know, you can't take birth control—"
"Fuck that, Tay, I fucking need you inside me." Chuck pants, holding onto his roommate's shoulders, shutting up for a few seconds before shyly asking. "Would you rather wear one?"
Taylor sighs, his grip loosening on Chuck's waist. "It's your choice. We're both clean, after all." He says, Chuck smashes his lips against his own at those words and lowers himself quickly, the kiss breaking when he throws his head back at the intrusion.
"Fuck yes!" Chuck shouts, a deranged smile painted across his lips, his and Taylor's breathing almost identical, erratic and excited from the unfiltered sensation.
"You feel amazing, Chuck." Taylor pants, his hands resting on Chuck's hips.
Chuck can only sit still for so long, but soon enough, he's pouncing on Taylor's cock, tight, hot flesh enveloping him with every brisk movement of his hips. "I've wanted this for so long..." Chuck admits between filthy moans, his arms cling to Taylor by the neck as he picks up the pace ecstatically, feeling his g-spot get hit by Taylor's dick over and over again.
The whole thing from Taylor's point of view feels pornographic; Chuck holding onto him for dear life as his pussy slides on his cock, which might as well explode, rapidly. The events that led up to this happening. Yet, what really helps nail this feeling in Taylor's opinion? The noises Chuck is making; loud, high-pitched, constant sweet yells that reverberate through the apartment and possibly the neighbors, but Taylor doesn't care, Chuck is screaming like a whore on his cock and it only turns him on more. The only thing Taylor wants to hear right now, is Chuck cry out his name.
Taylor's hands squeeze Chuck's hips, digging his nails into them, bracing himself from his ceaseless, quiet groaning to whisper in Chuck's ear "Say my name."
Chuck grinds down harder on Taylor's cock, feeling it hit his cervix, crying out at the top of his lungs. "TAYLOR!" He shrieks, again and again, his vocal cords going numb, but still he still cries his name, along with pleads that go to no one in particular.
Taylor groans at the call of his name. "Good boy, Chuck. I want you to scream that all night." He says with a smug grin, sucking a breath in through clenched teeth when Chuck tightens around him.
"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck— Taylor, yes, yes, God yes, Taylor!" Chuck whimpers, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I love you, I love you Taylor!" He shouts, Taylor starts thrusting hard into him after those words. Chuck's reaction is almost immediate, moaning louder than before, nails scratching hard at Taylor's overshirt, his hips moving faster.
Taylor listens to Chuck scream and moan like a bitch in heat like it's music, wishing he could replay those sounds whenever he felt like it.
I really am the luckiest man in the world, Taylor thinks to himself, his voice is perfect.
Taylor brings his right hand down between Chuck's thighs, rubbing his clit as they both get closer. Taylor feels it, Chuck won't last any longer.
"Gonna, cum— FUCK!" Chuck shouts, Taylor's dick abusing his gaping cervix, and he realizes how much he wants Taylor to cum inside him.
He also realizes that Taylor might be into that idea, too. By what happened earlier in the car.
Chuck's chest heaves with every whine, stuttering and trying to form words, a word, moreso.
"Taylor, préñame!" He manages to gasp. Taylor's face goes hot.
Breed me.
Taylor ruts into Chuck harder and faster, his right hand still rubbing his clit. Chuck spasms, pinning Taylor down onto the couch and thrusting his hips vigorously, he's so close, he just wants release, he wants Taylor's cum in him. And he knows he'll get it.
Taylor starts twitching all over, his groans louder than before, and Chuck knows this is a good sign. It's what he wants.
He gets a firm grasp on Taylor's light blue overshirt, pulling him in for a kiss.
Please, so close, Chuck thinks to himself, unable to form words to voice his thoughts, every nerve in his body firing off, on the brink of orgasm.
"Chuck, want me to pull out—?" Taylor asks, Chuck cuts him off.
"No, cum in me, please!" Chuck replies, his voice exhausted.
"God, Chuck—!" Taylor whines, holding onto him tightly as his insides are suddenly filled with warmth. He came, and it's so much.
Chuck feels his legs go limp, spreading wide on instinct, his back arches as he screams, ecstacy rushing through every vein under his skin, muscles spasming around Taylor's cock, milking him dry as he cums hard on him.
The haze dies out little by little, Chuck's movements cease, the only sounds heard are his and Taylor's heavy breathing.
"So, are you satisfied with your punishment? Because it gave me the best orgasm I've had in weeks." Chuck says, Taylor chuckles.
"Yes, I am." Taylor replies matter-of-factly, pulling out and sitting up straight, shoving Chuck off him and leaving him back down on the couch.
"What are you staring at?" Chuck says, grinning, seemingly not noticing all of Taylor's load between his legs, spilling out onto the couch.
Taylor shakes his head a little. "Nothing." He says, Chuck shrugs.
"Whatever you say, Tay."