Say Please (gznz)

“Wait, for real this time, right?”

Piers could only smirk at his boyfriend’s suspicious tone, and planted a firm shove in the centre of his chest to send him sprawling back onto his oversized bed.

“Absolutely for real, babe. You’ve been good all week, I think it’s time.”

On Monday, he’d taken exception to Guzma’s overly cavalier comments about his blowjob skills, and had given what might have been the best head of his life—just to pull off at the end and stare up icily, watching the neglected cock bobbing and twitching in front of him as his “big bad boss” stared down in shock.

Yeah, he hadn’t expected Piers to pull that one. Nor had he expected Piers to keep the game up. On Tuesday, he’d snorted when Piers told him he wouldn’t get to cum until he begged, and pulled him into his lap anyway. Piers had ridden him to the edge, then stood up and walked off for a shower, leaving him cussing and throbbing.

On Wednesday, Guzma had tried wheedling. He’d sidled up behind Piers while he chopped vegetables for dinner, grinding a fat erection against his ass and complimenting the smell of his hair. He’d thought he was going to sweet-talk Piers out of his mood, but nothing doing. Piers had just turned around and boredly told him that dinner was ready, trying not to openly savour the pout.

On Thursday, he started to cave.

“Princess, I’m real sorry about what I said—“ Piers damn well knew it, too, “—and I take it back. No more of this, please? You know you’re the best I’ve ever had, so let’s not do this shit anymore.”

Piers knew it took a lot for Guzma to apologise about anything. Not too long ago, he probably would have cussed Piers out, and the whole thing wouldn’t have worked at all; it would only have served to make him pissed off, and Piers wants to frustrate him, not make him genuinely mad.

(He’s so damn cute with that little furrow in his brow. It can’t be helped)

But even still, that wasn’t the deal. Piers had said Guzma wasn’t going to get off until he begged, and he intended to stay good on that promise. He’d jerked Guzma off fast and rough, just the way he liked it, but right when he’d been moaning and rocking onto his toes, Piers had moved his hand off and left him thrusting into empty air. The whine he’d let out, low and from deep in his chest let Piers know he only had about one more day to wait.

So now it was Friday and he was slinking over his boyfriend’s body, using one hand to drag his shirt up to expose his chest.

Fuck, Guzma had a sexy body. Most people probably wouldn’t think so—but then again, most people were morons. Utter idiots. He loved the thick muscle and fat, the breadth of his chest and the hair that curled across it. He loved the way it extended down onto Guzma’s torso, perfect for stroking fingers through, and he loved those heavy pecs that were still so sensitive when he set his mouth on tanned nipples. Biting, sucking, he enjoyed it enough for both of them, even when a wide palm landed on the back of his head.

Not demanding this time, though. The change was noticeable indeed, and he smirked around the hard bud between his teeth before flicking it with his tongue and pulling loose with a wet noise. Guzma groaned, the sound rough enough to shake all the way through Piers’ body and send lust charging through his gut.

Looking down, he saw the tent in the front of those familiar comfortable sweatpants standing high and proud, and could only smile.

Of course, he’d been suffering this week too. You don’t get used to a regular sex life filled with toe-curling orgasms and bed-breaking sex and then just turn it off all at once. Piers had missed Guzma’s cock something fierce, missed smelling it and sucking it and getting fucked until he was cross eyed by it, but he happened to have the self-control not to let it show.

Right now, though, it was pleading for his attention even if its owner wouldn’t, and that was good enough to have Piers tugging the waistband of those joggers down and chuckling when it sprung forth, narrowly missing his cheek as it sought to stand tall. There was nothing like watching it throb for him, nothing like knowing how bad Guzma needed him. That was all part of this game—Piers ground his thighs together as he thought about how intense the desire must be for Guzma to be so demure and quiet this time, only propping himself up on his elbows to watch as Piers’ tongue slid in a slow, lascivious line up the underside of the shaft.

A thick bead of salt and wanting greeted him at the tip, and he kissed it away, feeling it sink and spread across his lips.

Their eyes met, and the noise that came out of Guzma’s chest was broken this time.

Piers knew he had won.

“C’mon, please, baby…Piers…”

Another lick, enjoying the taste of Guzma’s flesh and the soft-over-hard texture of his dick.

“Please what?”

He watched the last of the not-inconsiderable stubbornness and willpower crumble behind grey eyes, and fought the urge to cheer.

“Please suck my cock, please, I’m fuckin’ begging you.”

There was so much raw need in those words that Guzma’s voice trembled, and if Piers’ panties hadn’t been soaked through before, they sure as hell were now. The plea was punctuated with a desperate thrust of the hips, sending the thick cockhead sliding across his cheek and smearing more precum in its wake.

Well, he certainly couldn’t say no to his boss, now could he?

Tucking a little hair back behind his ear, he leaned forward and allowed thick trails of saliva to drip out of his mouth, coating the heavy shaft as he caressed up and down it with one hand. The noise it made was sticky and lewd, the exact kind of thing both of them had been yearning for all week.

When he gave in and swallowed the head, he couldn’t hold back a moan of sheer delight as it pulsed against his tongue. Fuck, he’d missed the way it filled his senses, missed the smell and heat of it up his nose and across the back of his tongue. He’d even missed the way it stretched his jaw when he pushed to swallow half, then more, opening his throat and allowing it to slide down. It cut off his air, but he hardly gave a goddamn as he sucked and swallowed like his life depended on it.

He’d been waiting a week to taste this load, and he didn’t plan on denying either of them any longer.

Until distantly, he realised the whines of his name had taken on a pained tone. When Guzma’s hand balled to a fist against his thigh and then gripped the sheets, Piers pulled off in concern and licked away the strand of drool that connected Guzma’s cock to his tongue.

Even with his mouth removed, Guzma still tried to fuck the ring of his fingers, hips thrusting almost uncontrollably.

“What is it? Talk t’ me,” he commanded, and it took a moment for Guzma to find the breath.

“I—shit, I just—I can’t fuckin’ cum, I can’t, it’s like I forgot how or somethin’, it just won’t come out and it hurts real fuckin’ bad, just make it—stop—“

The words were raspy and it took Piers a moment to even understand.

Right, yeah. After a week of denial, Guzma was probably backed up real bad, and being so direct had just overstimulated him. Piers’ own libido had jumped the gun, and now he needed to take a step back.

Give them /both/ more time to enjoy.

“Don’t worry, bossman. I got you.”

He allowed his voice to purr as he ran his hands up the muscular thighs on either side of him, appreciating them with a slow, steady grope. Another bead of pre leaked out, a sign of how much this was needed, and he hummed to see it.

“I’m gonna get every last drop out.”

Between his thighs, Guzma’s balls were heavier than normal, and when Piers bent his head again to lap at them, Guzma jerked like he’d been burned. Hot and swollen, they were full of every load he hadn’t let out this week, and Piers felt almost apologetic as he cradled them on his tongue and sucked them into his mouth.

Almost.

The rest of him was too busy enjoying the feeling, the sheer power over a man this big. This strong. A man this dominant—and Piers was making him writhe and mewl on the bed like a virgin. Guzma’s back arched, head pressing down against the bed, and Piers swept his tongue over every held-back orgasm in his balls until the noises above built to a head, and he used one hand to rake his nails across Guzma’s hip while the other stroked him off.

It was more than enough to let a bit of the pressure out, and Guzma’s yell was strangled as cum drooled out of his cock and down across Piers’ knuckles, the warm rivulets accompanied by his balls tightening up even further as Piers sucked them.

When he collapsed, Piers sat up and made a show of licking the cum off the back of his hand, sucking each knuckle clean and then licking his lips before crawling up for a sloppy kiss.

Their teeth clicked and he felt Guzma panting into his mouth, heaving for breath even as his body shook with aftershocks. They shared the taste of his pleasure between them, salty and raunchy, but Piers knew that he’d need more even before Guzma gripped his wrist and guided his hand back down to the still-standing cock.

“Please,” came the whisper against his lips.

That was more than plea enough.

“I will, I will. But you’re gonna eat me out after,” he said, exaggerating his reticence. Guzma nodded frantically, and looked down to where Piers was already starting to jerk him off.

“Yeah—yes, please. Fuck, I already had a wet dream about your pussy, lemme eat it—after—“ The pulse of his cock punctuated his sentence, and Piers couldn’t help but laugh as he slid down once more.

“Y’know, it’s yer impatience that got you into this mess,” he chided, “But lucky for you, I got more than enough for both of us. Now be a good boy, and blow your load down my throat. I’ve been waitin’ all week.”

Guzma didn’t need to be told anywhere near twice. Not that he had much choice in the matter to begin with.

Piers’ throat wrapped around him like a wet little piece of heaven, that devilish tongue flicking and twisting into every sensitive spot. Getting blown by Piers always felt like he might be in danger of having his soul sucked out; if he weren’t convinced such a thing had long since deserted him, he might had been worried about it.

Instead, he just wrapped one hand around that monochrome ponytail, and when he wasn’t stopped, used it as leverage to fuck Piers’ throat up and down his cock like a fleshlight. Nothing felt better than the hungry sucks that tried to keep him in every time he pulled Piers back, nor the obscene gurgles of his throat and the way his eyes always beaded with tears, no matter how much he was enjoying it. Pretty and sloppy and perfect, that was Piers. There probably wasn’t a cocksucker like him anywhere else in the entire world.

“Gonna cum again,” he announced when he felt the orgasm building up, riding the knife’s edge of pain and pleasure. “Fuck—cumming, take it!”

He shoved Piers’ head down, and felt everything inside him rush out in one long, glorious blaze of white hot pleasure. A whole week’s worth, spilling down that greedy throat, shooting straight down to his belly and Guzma groaned as he pictured filling Piers up from the inside like that. Giving the little minx everything he wanted, because he understood this was a game.

He had all along, but it was worth it for the feeling of Piers swallowing every pulse of seed and looking up at him through watery eyes as though pleading for more.

Perhaps they could both stand to beg a little now and then.