Sapientia Et Veritas, Et Non
"Today is born the seventh one
Born of woman the seventh son
And he in turn of a seventh son
He has the power to heal
He has the gift of the second sight
He is the chosen one
So it shall be written
So it shall be done"
You might've guessed it: We are on the 7th prompt post. Hurray!
And although seven is "the most magical number there is", the rules for ( Read more... )
Already Tony was tilting his webcam. He was sitting in a wicker armchair on some sort of veranda, the sun shining behind him. His chest was scrawny as Gordon had remembered, and his thighs were parted lazily, his boxers light, every contour clear through the lens of his webcam. Gordon gulped and felt a surge of blood southwards.
Stranger: Polka dots!
You: I can see.
Stranger: Do you like them?
You: No
Stranger: Do you want me to get rid of them then?
Tony’s palm was rubbing the growing bulge in his boxers, his erection pressing the fabric up against his stomach, spotted with precum. As he peeled away the material and pushed his boxers away, he began typing again, his free hand wrapped in a fist around his cock.
Stranger: Do you want me to carry on?
You: Don’t fuck around
You: Get on with it
Gordon worked his belt open with his left hand, feeling his sturdy erection curling upwards towards his belly, and he wrapped his hand around himself, the secure heat and weight pleasant against his sweating palm. Tony’s hand was moving in quick movements, working his foreskin over the bulging pink head of his cock and then down to the root.
Stranger: Are you enjoying this?
You: Why do you care?
You: Insecure, are we?
Stranger: Of course not.
Gordon tipped the webcam, and his own crotch came into view on the screen, their cocks side by side once more. He took great satisfaction in noting that his own erection looked comfortably thicker than Tony’s. Tony’s grip was tightening, his knuckles straining
Stranger: I’m going to cum.
You: Can’t hold on, can you?
Tony reached his orgasm with a jerk of the hips, his semen pumping out in one, two, three strokes before his hand settled at the root of his already-loosening cock. He smeared away the white liquid from his bare kneecap.
Stranger: Fuck, that was good.
Gordon let himself fall a moment later, momentarily weightless as he came with a groan. Tony beamed, grinning his widest grin.
Stranger: You liked it too!
Stranger: *wink*
Stranger: *wink*
Stranger: *wink*
Stranger: If I give you my current email, we can arrange to meet up and have some fun, can’t we?
Stranger: *wink*
Stranger: sexypants_tony@.peace.MiddleEast.org
Stranger: EMAIL ME!
You have disconnected.
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I kinda love how Blair tries to start off being cool and confident but quickly becomes desperate and needy when it looks like Gordon will disconnect, whilst Gordon remains his usual standoffish and reserved self throughout the whole thing. And then Gordon just cuts off Tony's pleading at the end for Gordon to contact him without a word.
I also loled heartily at Tony's email address! XD
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Poor Gordon, encountering the world of chatroulette and its many, many penises, and trying to have polite conversations with them. And then stumbling across Tony. And Tony's obnoxious smugness and neediness all rolled into one tastelessly-boxered package.
This was sheer genius, author!anon.
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