Fic: I'ma Pick You Up (Bob/Brian)
Title: I'ma Pick You Up
Author: saekokato
Pairing: Bob/Brian
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3300
Summary: Brian has a fantasy and an idea. Bob's more than willing to listen.
Notes: Written for my prostitution square for kink_bingo. My card is located here. Beta by the ever lovely roseclaw, who has yet to beat me over the head for my misuse of commas. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Title from Adam Lambert's 'Pick U Up'.
WARNING: Contains characters fantasizing and acting on a fantasy about prostitution. Also, the use of the word 'whore'. Some may find this triggery.
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I'ma Pick You Up
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Brian never has a problem telling Bob what he wants. He never did. From day one it has been, "Bryar, I need you to do this," or "Bryar, get that shit done before I have to slap you." Bob's always appreciated a guy who knows what he wants and has no problem saying it. It's part of Brian's charm.
Then they started fucking around. Bob is a little wary to say they're dating because any time they have away from everyone else is spent fucking. Occasionally there's food, but that's usually on one of their bodies (or in as Brian is also one kinky motherfucker and knows a few uses for cucumbers that Bob never would have thought of), so it's not really something Bob feels comfortable labeling as 'dating'. Even if Bob hasn't even considered looking at anyone else for the length of their relationship, and he's pretty sure Brian hasn't either.
Anyway, then they started fucking around. Like Bob said, Brian is one kinky motherfucker. He's asked Bob to do a number of things Bob never would have considered (see: cucumbers), and even if Bob hadn't been one hundred percent sure about them at first, he'd certainly enjoyed them. So Bob isn't surprised that the first thing Brian says to him when they get together for a week at Bob's apartment in Chicago (after he fucks Bob against the wall next to the front door and again bent over the foot of Bob's bed) is, "I have a fantasy and an idea."
Bob hums at him, stretching his full length out over his bed. Brian waits for him to finish, then he settles himself over Bob, tangling their legs together and propping his arms on Bob's chest. Brian just stares at Bob until he rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and? Not the first time you've said that to me, Schechter."
Brian runs his fingers through the sparse hair on Bob's chest a few times before closing his fist and tugging on it. Bob's breath catches and his body pulls up from the bed a little. His cock twitches against Brian's thigh, despite Bob having just come twice in the last hour. Brian smirks down at him. "You're going to like it, Bryar."
Bob's breath catches a little. Every time Brian's told him that his idea had been something that Bob hadn't been quite so sure about. It'd always played out better than he'd thought it would, but he'd still had to deal with a mess of butterflies in the stomach.
His cock twitches again, the bastard traitor.
Brian laughs, sounding pleased as he leans down to kiss the side of Bob's neck. "I haven't even told you what it is yet."
Bob turns his head to the side, and Brian bites down on the tendon. Bob's voice is a little more breathy than he'd like when he answers. "Does it involve your cock in my ass?"
"Hmmm," Brian hums around Bob's skin. He lets go to move up about an inch and bites down again. Bob groans at the sting, his hands coming up from the bed to run up and down Brian's back. "Maybe. First you'll have to be good enough for me to want to take you home." His teeth drag up Bob's neck until they bite down on Bob's ear lobe.
Bob hisses out a breath, and his hips buck up against Brian's, even if there is no way either of them are getting it up again anytime soon. "I already have you at home," he points out when Brian lets go.
"Not tonight, you don't," Brian says. He sits up and smirks down at Bob. "I've always wondered what it would be like to pick up a hooker. Not enough to actually do it, but I like the idea of you on a street corner waiting to take your next customer back past the dumpster. Or in the alley at the club, just inside the shadows where everyone will think you're just too eager to let me get you home first."
As he talks, he runs one hand over Bob's chest. Dragging his nails through Bob's chest hair, tugging a little before trailing over to a nipple. He'll give it a pinch or just run his nail over it, quick and sharp, before repeating the process. His eyes are on Bob's face, and Bob knows he's watching the way his skin is darkening again, from a light pink to a deep red that runs from Bob's hairline all the way down to his toes. A full body flush that Brian's chased with his tongue more than once.
Bob shouldn't be getting hard again. He just isn't that young anymore. Too bad his cock hasn't figured that out yet. "You fantasize about me being a whore? What, you want to save me?"
Brian snorts. He's getting hard again, too, shifting until his weight is pressing their cocks together. "No, Bryar. I want to pick you up, just some cheap boytoy working the club, take you into that alley, and push you to your knees. You're so pretty on your knees, Bryar, especially when I put you there. You'll be even prettier there wearing your tight jeans, tiny t-shirt that barely reaches your belt, and lip gloss smeared half off your lips."
Bob can picture the scene in his mind. He can almost feel the gravel under his knees, the cold air blowing over his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. He can see Brian leaning against the alley wall, smirking, knowing what Bob's kneeling in and not giving a shit. Pulling his cock out and guiding Bob's mouth down onto it, not caring that he's going too fast and too hard. Just expecting Bob to take it and make it good, because if he doesn't, Brian will just leave him there and walk away, not paying.
Bob knows Brian's mind, knows how it works, so he can see Brian's imaginary world spiraling out before him. He knows Brian's done it before, taken a blowjob or a fuck without handing over the cash and Bob can't fight it. He needs this spot on the block, is barely holding onto it as it is, some upstart always trying to hone in on it, and Brian is a big shot. His word is the difference between working and starving, and Bob doesn't want to try finding another spot - he's too old, and he's barely surviving on regulars now as it is.
Still, that doesn't mean Bob in the here and now isn't going to give Brian shit about it. "What makes you think I'd actually be wearing lip gloss, Schechter?"
Brian smirks, the same one Bob sees in his head, and his breath catches a little. He knows Brian feels it, Brian can feel every change in his breathing because his hand is still running his pattern over Bob's skin. Harder now, lingering on Bob's nipples, plucking and pulling until Bob wants to squirm under him. As it is, he's hissing at the scrape of Brian's nails through his chest hair and moaning when his attention turns to his nipples.
"Because it's mid-week, Bryar. Traffic is slow at the club, and you're always just a little behind. Enough that you need to call a little extra attention to yourself, that you actually brush up against me when I walk past. You want my attention because you need my money, and you know if you're very, very good and very, very lucky, I'll take you home with me. Fuck you for a few extra hours and another wad of twenties."
Bob swallows hard. "I'm always good." He is but he knows he'd have to pull out all of his tricks to get Brian to bring him back to his apartment. Brian won't fuck in the alley, because he likes to take his time, drawing out the pleasure until it feels more like torture. Taking his own without consideration for whether Bob actually gets his, because Bob is just a body for Brian to use as he wishes, then throw aside when he's done.
"Oh, I know you are," Brian tells him. He leans down so he can get his teeth on Bob's chest, biting hard and leaving a circle of stinging marks around Bob's nipple. "I'll let you in on a secret, Bob. I like watching you fall behind, watching you scramble to pick up whatever scraps you can. It means you always come crawling to me, and you beg oh so prettily for my cock." He punctuates his point by biting down on Bob's nipple, tugging it with his teeth.
Bob arches his back as much as he can, whimpering and clutching at Brian's shoulders. His cock is so hard it's starting to ache, and an echo of that ache throbs in his ass. He's already had Brian twice today, and he wants him again. Needs him. "Brian, fuck! Brian."
Brian hums but otherwise ignores Bob. He flicks his tongue over Bob's nipple until Bob sobs out his name, and then he lets go to repeat the process with Bob's other nipple. His hands run up over Bob's shoulders, then down his arms, tugging on them until he has Bob's hands pinned, one on each side of his head. After a minute he lets go of Bob's nipple and smirks up at Bob. "Don't you dare come."
Bob sucks in a breath. He knows that whatever Brian's planning is going to hurt, yet be absolutely one hundred percent worth it. And he's right.
Brian bites down on his nipple again and pulls back with it still between his teeth. At the same time, he starts grinding against Bob, small circles that roll their cocks together, the dry skin catching until their slick smooths the way. Sharp, persistent pain shoots from Bob's nipple down to his cock and back again, fading into pain-tinted pleasure until all Bob knows is the feedback loop of pleasure-pain - the sharp pinpoint pain at his nipple, the overwhelming pleasure of Brian's cock against his own, and the two tangling and mixing until Bob swears the tips of his fingers and toes are tingling.
He hears his voice breaking, moans and whimpers, pleas and promises that he'll be so good if Brian will just let him come. If Brian will fuck him again. He begs until he can't find another breath around his moans, and then Brian lets him go. He pushes Bob back down against the bed and stretches up to kiss him, pressing Bob's hands harder into the mattress to support himself as he keeps grinding against Bob.
He kisses Bob until Bob isn't sure that he's even breathing anymore, then pulls back so Brian can whisper in his ear. "Do you think you're good enough to have my cock again, whore? I've already fucked you twice, what makes you think I want to pay for another round?"
Bob's eyes squeeze shut, and he gasps as he tries to pull in enough air to answer. He doesn't manage soon enough for Brian, who growls and bites down hard on Bob's neck, hard enough that Bob isn't sure that he hasn't drawn blood. The thought almost shoves him straight off the edge, but he manages to hold on, promising himself it'll only be just a little bit longer. He hopes anyway.
"I asked you a question, whore." Brian's voice is a straight out growl, the one he pulls out to use on useless band members or roadies that he can't believe he has to work with, and Bob's mind snaps into his role.
"Please, Brian. It's free," he gasps. His eyes are wide, and he's trying his best to beg with them and the way his body is grinding back against Brian's, seeking to convince Brian he deserves it when he's too out of breath to sound coy. "No charge. Promise. I just. I want your cock, Brian. Please."
Brian smirks at him. "Why should I care about what you want, whore?" He leans down to drag his teeth along Bob's jawline. "What makes you think you deserve it?"
Bob groans when Brian bites down on the corner of his lips. "Because you haven't kicked me out yet."
Brian hums as he drags his teeth up the other side of Bob's jaw, up to his ear, where he bites down on the lobe. He worries it between his teeth, occasionally flicking his tongue over the flesh, playing Bob's moans up and down a full scale. He pulls back after a minute and rolls off of Bob, settling himself against the pillows. "Make it good, whore, or I'll pocket the whole night."
Bob swallows hard as he rolls over and pushes himself up onto his hands and knees. When he's up, he's in the perfect spot to reach Brian's cock with his mouth, and he has it down his throat before he has a chance to think about it. Brian's hand comes down to settle on his head, dragging through Bob's hair until he has enough of a handful to control Bob's movements. He pulls Bob up so Bob can roll his tongue around the head, then pushes Bob back down until his nose is buried in his hair, holding him there until Bob's about out of breath, then dragging him back up to repeat the process, three, four, five times.
Then he drags Bob off completely, using his hair to drag him fully onto his knees. "That isn't you riding my cock, whore. I'm not paying for that either."
Bob nods, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He must look a little dazed because Brian smirks again before he lets go of Bob. He nods at where the lube and condoms are still spread out on the nightstand. "Hurry the fuck up. The longer I wait, the less you make."
Bob wants to make a snappy comment, but he just reaches for the supplies. It's the work of a minute to roll the condom on and slick Brian up, then Bob is straddling Brian's hips and sinking down. He doesn't bother trying to cover his sounds - Brian's the type that wants to hear how good he is. And he is. Bob's still stretched from their previous two fucks, so it's an easy slide down, and Brian shifts until his hips are at the angle Bob likes best. Bob sets a steady rhythm, nothing fast, but enough to make him really feel the drag in and out. His hands come up to Brian's shoulders for balance, and when Brian doesn't protest, Bob uses that to change the angle, to take Brian deeper.
That gets a reaction out of Brian. His head falls back against the headboard, eyes hooded, and his hands come up to grip Bob's hips. His knees bend, feet gaining purchase under Bob, and he starts thrusting, using his grip to pull Bob down hard onto his cock. Bob lets out a shout when that first hard thrust drags across his prostate, and Brian holds that angle, driving Bob crazy. Bob's head hangs as he whimpers. The drag of Brian's cock across his prostate again and again, harder each time as Brian picks up speed, has Bob right on the edge.
He isn't controlling the fuck now, as much as he is on top, so he can't shift to give himself more time bringing Brian to the end. And he knows if he comes before Brian there will be hell to pay. So he brings out the only trick he has left. When Brian pulls him all the way down, Bob clenches around his cock, milking it as best he can. Brian swears and thrusts up hard, sinking in just a fraction deeper. He grinds against Bob for a moment, two, then Bob unclenches his muscles.
Brian rolls them over. He shoves Bob's left leg up toward his chest, wrapping the other around his waist. He doesn't bother checking to see if Bob's all right, just starts fucking him hard and fast. Bob shouts, arms reaching over his head to hold onto the headboard. His hips move to meet Brian's and he's so, so very close.
"That's it," Brian gasps out. He moves one hand from Bob's hip to his cock, tugging hard and in counter point to his thrust. "Take it, whore."
Bob tosses his head to the side as he tries to hold out, to wait for Brian, but Brian's cock drags over his prostate at the same time as his hand twists hard over the head of his cock, and Bob is gone. He keens as his back arches, and he spills hot over Brian's fingers. Brian strokes him through his orgasm, until Bob is whimpering from the sensation of Brian's hand on his oversensitive cock. Then his hand goes back to Bob's hip and Brian pulls Bob's hips off of the bed for more leverage, thrusting harder and sinking deeper.
Bob's eyes roll back a little in his head as Brian keeps moving, because it's too much, way too much, but it's so damn good he doesn't want Brian to ever stop. When Brian's thrusts start to falter, Bob reaches out with one hand to grab at Brian's hair, tugging sharply. "Come on, baby, give it to me."
Brian groans and comes, hips slamming once, twice, before he holds as deep as he can, grinding against Bob's ass. When he's done, he just folds against Bob's chest. Bob lowers his leg and holds Brian, running his fingers through his hair until their breathing evens out. Brian kisses the center of Bob's chest before he shifts, a small warning before he pulls out and rolls off of the bed. He stumbles to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and Bob hears the water running in the sink. He thinks about getting up to take a shower but decides that that sounds way too much like work. Instead he stretches, relishing the burn of his muscles and the soreness in his ass, and he curls up on his side to wait for Brian.
Bob's almost asleep when Brian comes back to the bed. Bob half expects a wet washcloth to the face - Brian's twisted sense of humor is another part of Brian's charm - but Brian surprises him. He just rolls Bob gently onto his back and cleans him quickly, efficiently. Then he maneuvers them underneath the blankets, curling up with Bob's head on his chest.
"What?" Bob asks around a yawn. "You not kicking me out? Use me and lose me, as they say?"
Brian snorts, the air ruffling the hair on top of Bob's head. "Please, fucker. How will I get you to make pancakes if I kick you out?"
"Blowjob," Bob says quickly. Blowjobs are Bob's price for making pancakes, and he's not going to let the little fucker forget it.
Bob can just about hear Brian roll his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. I remember." He leans down and kisses the top of Bob's head. "How you doing?"
"You fucked me but good, Schechter," Bob tells him. Bob feels too damn good to lie about it. "But there is no fucking way I am blowing you in that alley. Things have died back there."
Brian chuckles. "Like I'd let you leave the apartment looking like that."
Bob would roll his eyes if they weren't already closed. "You live the dream, Schechter. Live the dream."
Author: saekokato
Pairing: Bob/Brian
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3300
Summary: Brian has a fantasy and an idea. Bob's more than willing to listen.
Notes: Written for my prostitution square for kink_bingo. My card is located here. Beta by the ever lovely roseclaw, who has yet to beat me over the head for my misuse of commas. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Title from Adam Lambert's 'Pick U Up'.
WARNING: Contains characters fantasizing and acting on a fantasy about prostitution. Also, the use of the word 'whore'. Some may find this triggery.
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I'ma Pick You Up
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Brian never has a problem telling Bob what he wants. He never did. From day one it has been, "Bryar, I need you to do this," or "Bryar, get that shit done before I have to slap you." Bob's always appreciated a guy who knows what he wants and has no problem saying it. It's part of Brian's charm.
Then they started fucking around. Bob is a little wary to say they're dating because any time they have away from everyone else is spent fucking. Occasionally there's food, but that's usually on one of their bodies (or in as Brian is also one kinky motherfucker and knows a few uses for cucumbers that Bob never would have thought of), so it's not really something Bob feels comfortable labeling as 'dating'. Even if Bob hasn't even considered looking at anyone else for the length of their relationship, and he's pretty sure Brian hasn't either.
Anyway, then they started fucking around. Like Bob said, Brian is one kinky motherfucker. He's asked Bob to do a number of things Bob never would have considered (see: cucumbers), and even if Bob hadn't been one hundred percent sure about them at first, he'd certainly enjoyed them. So Bob isn't surprised that the first thing Brian says to him when they get together for a week at Bob's apartment in Chicago (after he fucks Bob against the wall next to the front door and again bent over the foot of Bob's bed) is, "I have a fantasy and an idea."
Bob hums at him, stretching his full length out over his bed. Brian waits for him to finish, then he settles himself over Bob, tangling their legs together and propping his arms on Bob's chest. Brian just stares at Bob until he rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and? Not the first time you've said that to me, Schechter."
Brian runs his fingers through the sparse hair on Bob's chest a few times before closing his fist and tugging on it. Bob's breath catches and his body pulls up from the bed a little. His cock twitches against Brian's thigh, despite Bob having just come twice in the last hour. Brian smirks down at him. "You're going to like it, Bryar."
Bob's breath catches a little. Every time Brian's told him that his idea had been something that Bob hadn't been quite so sure about. It'd always played out better than he'd thought it would, but he'd still had to deal with a mess of butterflies in the stomach.
His cock twitches again, the bastard traitor.
Brian laughs, sounding pleased as he leans down to kiss the side of Bob's neck. "I haven't even told you what it is yet."
Bob turns his head to the side, and Brian bites down on the tendon. Bob's voice is a little more breathy than he'd like when he answers. "Does it involve your cock in my ass?"
"Hmmm," Brian hums around Bob's skin. He lets go to move up about an inch and bites down again. Bob groans at the sting, his hands coming up from the bed to run up and down Brian's back. "Maybe. First you'll have to be good enough for me to want to take you home." His teeth drag up Bob's neck until they bite down on Bob's ear lobe.
Bob hisses out a breath, and his hips buck up against Brian's, even if there is no way either of them are getting it up again anytime soon. "I already have you at home," he points out when Brian lets go.
"Not tonight, you don't," Brian says. He sits up and smirks down at Bob. "I've always wondered what it would be like to pick up a hooker. Not enough to actually do it, but I like the idea of you on a street corner waiting to take your next customer back past the dumpster. Or in the alley at the club, just inside the shadows where everyone will think you're just too eager to let me get you home first."
As he talks, he runs one hand over Bob's chest. Dragging his nails through Bob's chest hair, tugging a little before trailing over to a nipple. He'll give it a pinch or just run his nail over it, quick and sharp, before repeating the process. His eyes are on Bob's face, and Bob knows he's watching the way his skin is darkening again, from a light pink to a deep red that runs from Bob's hairline all the way down to his toes. A full body flush that Brian's chased with his tongue more than once.
Bob shouldn't be getting hard again. He just isn't that young anymore. Too bad his cock hasn't figured that out yet. "You fantasize about me being a whore? What, you want to save me?"
Brian snorts. He's getting hard again, too, shifting until his weight is pressing their cocks together. "No, Bryar. I want to pick you up, just some cheap boytoy working the club, take you into that alley, and push you to your knees. You're so pretty on your knees, Bryar, especially when I put you there. You'll be even prettier there wearing your tight jeans, tiny t-shirt that barely reaches your belt, and lip gloss smeared half off your lips."
Bob can picture the scene in his mind. He can almost feel the gravel under his knees, the cold air blowing over his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. He can see Brian leaning against the alley wall, smirking, knowing what Bob's kneeling in and not giving a shit. Pulling his cock out and guiding Bob's mouth down onto it, not caring that he's going too fast and too hard. Just expecting Bob to take it and make it good, because if he doesn't, Brian will just leave him there and walk away, not paying.
Bob knows Brian's mind, knows how it works, so he can see Brian's imaginary world spiraling out before him. He knows Brian's done it before, taken a blowjob or a fuck without handing over the cash and Bob can't fight it. He needs this spot on the block, is barely holding onto it as it is, some upstart always trying to hone in on it, and Brian is a big shot. His word is the difference between working and starving, and Bob doesn't want to try finding another spot - he's too old, and he's barely surviving on regulars now as it is.
Still, that doesn't mean Bob in the here and now isn't going to give Brian shit about it. "What makes you think I'd actually be wearing lip gloss, Schechter?"
Brian smirks, the same one Bob sees in his head, and his breath catches a little. He knows Brian feels it, Brian can feel every change in his breathing because his hand is still running his pattern over Bob's skin. Harder now, lingering on Bob's nipples, plucking and pulling until Bob wants to squirm under him. As it is, he's hissing at the scrape of Brian's nails through his chest hair and moaning when his attention turns to his nipples.
"Because it's mid-week, Bryar. Traffic is slow at the club, and you're always just a little behind. Enough that you need to call a little extra attention to yourself, that you actually brush up against me when I walk past. You want my attention because you need my money, and you know if you're very, very good and very, very lucky, I'll take you home with me. Fuck you for a few extra hours and another wad of twenties."
Bob swallows hard. "I'm always good." He is but he knows he'd have to pull out all of his tricks to get Brian to bring him back to his apartment. Brian won't fuck in the alley, because he likes to take his time, drawing out the pleasure until it feels more like torture. Taking his own without consideration for whether Bob actually gets his, because Bob is just a body for Brian to use as he wishes, then throw aside when he's done.
"Oh, I know you are," Brian tells him. He leans down so he can get his teeth on Bob's chest, biting hard and leaving a circle of stinging marks around Bob's nipple. "I'll let you in on a secret, Bob. I like watching you fall behind, watching you scramble to pick up whatever scraps you can. It means you always come crawling to me, and you beg oh so prettily for my cock." He punctuates his point by biting down on Bob's nipple, tugging it with his teeth.
Bob arches his back as much as he can, whimpering and clutching at Brian's shoulders. His cock is so hard it's starting to ache, and an echo of that ache throbs in his ass. He's already had Brian twice today, and he wants him again. Needs him. "Brian, fuck! Brian."
Brian hums but otherwise ignores Bob. He flicks his tongue over Bob's nipple until Bob sobs out his name, and then he lets go to repeat the process with Bob's other nipple. His hands run up over Bob's shoulders, then down his arms, tugging on them until he has Bob's hands pinned, one on each side of his head. After a minute he lets go of Bob's nipple and smirks up at Bob. "Don't you dare come."
Bob sucks in a breath. He knows that whatever Brian's planning is going to hurt, yet be absolutely one hundred percent worth it. And he's right.
Brian bites down on his nipple again and pulls back with it still between his teeth. At the same time, he starts grinding against Bob, small circles that roll their cocks together, the dry skin catching until their slick smooths the way. Sharp, persistent pain shoots from Bob's nipple down to his cock and back again, fading into pain-tinted pleasure until all Bob knows is the feedback loop of pleasure-pain - the sharp pinpoint pain at his nipple, the overwhelming pleasure of Brian's cock against his own, and the two tangling and mixing until Bob swears the tips of his fingers and toes are tingling.
He hears his voice breaking, moans and whimpers, pleas and promises that he'll be so good if Brian will just let him come. If Brian will fuck him again. He begs until he can't find another breath around his moans, and then Brian lets him go. He pushes Bob back down against the bed and stretches up to kiss him, pressing Bob's hands harder into the mattress to support himself as he keeps grinding against Bob.
He kisses Bob until Bob isn't sure that he's even breathing anymore, then pulls back so Brian can whisper in his ear. "Do you think you're good enough to have my cock again, whore? I've already fucked you twice, what makes you think I want to pay for another round?"
Bob's eyes squeeze shut, and he gasps as he tries to pull in enough air to answer. He doesn't manage soon enough for Brian, who growls and bites down hard on Bob's neck, hard enough that Bob isn't sure that he hasn't drawn blood. The thought almost shoves him straight off the edge, but he manages to hold on, promising himself it'll only be just a little bit longer. He hopes anyway.
"I asked you a question, whore." Brian's voice is a straight out growl, the one he pulls out to use on useless band members or roadies that he can't believe he has to work with, and Bob's mind snaps into his role.
"Please, Brian. It's free," he gasps. His eyes are wide, and he's trying his best to beg with them and the way his body is grinding back against Brian's, seeking to convince Brian he deserves it when he's too out of breath to sound coy. "No charge. Promise. I just. I want your cock, Brian. Please."
Brian smirks at him. "Why should I care about what you want, whore?" He leans down to drag his teeth along Bob's jawline. "What makes you think you deserve it?"
Bob groans when Brian bites down on the corner of his lips. "Because you haven't kicked me out yet."
Brian hums as he drags his teeth up the other side of Bob's jaw, up to his ear, where he bites down on the lobe. He worries it between his teeth, occasionally flicking his tongue over the flesh, playing Bob's moans up and down a full scale. He pulls back after a minute and rolls off of Bob, settling himself against the pillows. "Make it good, whore, or I'll pocket the whole night."
Bob swallows hard as he rolls over and pushes himself up onto his hands and knees. When he's up, he's in the perfect spot to reach Brian's cock with his mouth, and he has it down his throat before he has a chance to think about it. Brian's hand comes down to settle on his head, dragging through Bob's hair until he has enough of a handful to control Bob's movements. He pulls Bob up so Bob can roll his tongue around the head, then pushes Bob back down until his nose is buried in his hair, holding him there until Bob's about out of breath, then dragging him back up to repeat the process, three, four, five times.
Then he drags Bob off completely, using his hair to drag him fully onto his knees. "That isn't you riding my cock, whore. I'm not paying for that either."
Bob nods, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He must look a little dazed because Brian smirks again before he lets go of Bob. He nods at where the lube and condoms are still spread out on the nightstand. "Hurry the fuck up. The longer I wait, the less you make."
Bob wants to make a snappy comment, but he just reaches for the supplies. It's the work of a minute to roll the condom on and slick Brian up, then Bob is straddling Brian's hips and sinking down. He doesn't bother trying to cover his sounds - Brian's the type that wants to hear how good he is. And he is. Bob's still stretched from their previous two fucks, so it's an easy slide down, and Brian shifts until his hips are at the angle Bob likes best. Bob sets a steady rhythm, nothing fast, but enough to make him really feel the drag in and out. His hands come up to Brian's shoulders for balance, and when Brian doesn't protest, Bob uses that to change the angle, to take Brian deeper.
That gets a reaction out of Brian. His head falls back against the headboard, eyes hooded, and his hands come up to grip Bob's hips. His knees bend, feet gaining purchase under Bob, and he starts thrusting, using his grip to pull Bob down hard onto his cock. Bob lets out a shout when that first hard thrust drags across his prostate, and Brian holds that angle, driving Bob crazy. Bob's head hangs as he whimpers. The drag of Brian's cock across his prostate again and again, harder each time as Brian picks up speed, has Bob right on the edge.
He isn't controlling the fuck now, as much as he is on top, so he can't shift to give himself more time bringing Brian to the end. And he knows if he comes before Brian there will be hell to pay. So he brings out the only trick he has left. When Brian pulls him all the way down, Bob clenches around his cock, milking it as best he can. Brian swears and thrusts up hard, sinking in just a fraction deeper. He grinds against Bob for a moment, two, then Bob unclenches his muscles.
Brian rolls them over. He shoves Bob's left leg up toward his chest, wrapping the other around his waist. He doesn't bother checking to see if Bob's all right, just starts fucking him hard and fast. Bob shouts, arms reaching over his head to hold onto the headboard. His hips move to meet Brian's and he's so, so very close.
"That's it," Brian gasps out. He moves one hand from Bob's hip to his cock, tugging hard and in counter point to his thrust. "Take it, whore."
Bob tosses his head to the side as he tries to hold out, to wait for Brian, but Brian's cock drags over his prostate at the same time as his hand twists hard over the head of his cock, and Bob is gone. He keens as his back arches, and he spills hot over Brian's fingers. Brian strokes him through his orgasm, until Bob is whimpering from the sensation of Brian's hand on his oversensitive cock. Then his hand goes back to Bob's hip and Brian pulls Bob's hips off of the bed for more leverage, thrusting harder and sinking deeper.
Bob's eyes roll back a little in his head as Brian keeps moving, because it's too much, way too much, but it's so damn good he doesn't want Brian to ever stop. When Brian's thrusts start to falter, Bob reaches out with one hand to grab at Brian's hair, tugging sharply. "Come on, baby, give it to me."
Brian groans and comes, hips slamming once, twice, before he holds as deep as he can, grinding against Bob's ass. When he's done, he just folds against Bob's chest. Bob lowers his leg and holds Brian, running his fingers through his hair until their breathing evens out. Brian kisses the center of Bob's chest before he shifts, a small warning before he pulls out and rolls off of the bed. He stumbles to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and Bob hears the water running in the sink. He thinks about getting up to take a shower but decides that that sounds way too much like work. Instead he stretches, relishing the burn of his muscles and the soreness in his ass, and he curls up on his side to wait for Brian.
Bob's almost asleep when Brian comes back to the bed. Bob half expects a wet washcloth to the face - Brian's twisted sense of humor is another part of Brian's charm - but Brian surprises him. He just rolls Bob gently onto his back and cleans him quickly, efficiently. Then he maneuvers them underneath the blankets, curling up with Bob's head on his chest.
"What?" Bob asks around a yawn. "You not kicking me out? Use me and lose me, as they say?"
Brian snorts, the air ruffling the hair on top of Bob's head. "Please, fucker. How will I get you to make pancakes if I kick you out?"
"Blowjob," Bob says quickly. Blowjobs are Bob's price for making pancakes, and he's not going to let the little fucker forget it.
Bob can just about hear Brian roll his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. I remember." He leans down and kisses the top of Bob's head. "How you doing?"
"You fucked me but good, Schechter," Bob tells him. Bob feels too damn good to lie about it. "But there is no fucking way I am blowing you in that alley. Things have died back there."
Brian chuckles. "Like I'd let you leave the apartment looking like that."
Bob would roll his eyes if they weren't already closed. "You live the dream, Schechter. Live the dream."