There's a soft snuffling sound somewhere near Tyler's feet and he closes his eyes, biting back on a curse. Not now. Any goddamned time but now.
But the world - or his world, at least - isn't listening.
"Tyler?" Burt's bark is definitely worse than his bite, but it's still a bark, rough and demanding attention. But there's something else that's rough, that's even more demanding, and right now one of that something's tongues is winding its way around Tyler's leg. "God damn it, boy. Where you at?"
Face down on the ground, that's where, two more of El Blanco's tongues having grabbed and flipped him over before he can do more than stutter in surprise, biting his tongue as his knees impact with the hard-packed dirt.
He can hear Burt muttering to himself, the sounds fading into background noise as El Blanco continues his explorations. The front of Tyler's pants is now soaked through, and not all of it is from El Blanco's spit. Some of it is Tyler, a Pavlovian response to being touched like this. One slow stroke from El Blanco and Tyler's dick is drooling, his ass already clenching in anticipation at being filled to the point of pain.
One of El Blanco's questing tongues finds its way under Tyler's shirt, mouthing along his abs. It nips and sucks, moving higher and higher, and ignoring the rocking of Tyler's hips, a less than subtle hint about where Tyler really wants it to go. The mouth at the end finally finds one of his nipples, and it grasps and twists. Tyler swallows back a curse, bites back the moan that follows as pain is followed by pleasure, the lubrication from El Blanco's slime already soothing that small ache away.
One of these days, he's going to bottle that shit. It's better than any sex toy he's ever heard of.
But El Blanco's only just beginning to play with Tyler. His tongues tease and taunt and tantalise, lapping and sucking and occasionally biting, all of it soothed away until Tyler no longer knows where pain ends and pleasure begins. His dick is hard and throbbing in his pants, but when he reaches down to unfasten them, to ease his dick out into the air so he can jerk off, El Blanco's tongue winds around his wrist, a soft chastisement as it pulls his hand away from his zipper.
What's worse is that El Blanco's tongues stop, moving away from Tyler's skin and hovering a hairsbreadth above it, close enough for Tyler to feel exactly what he's missing.
"I'll be good," he gasps and the ground beneath him shakes in a Graboid laugh before El Blanco's tongues finally return.
"What was that?"
Burt's voice is getting closer, and Tyler closes his eyes, holds his breath, trying not to attract any attention. But it's hard, so hard when El Blanco's tongue finally slides into the opening of his pants, mouthing at the head of his cock.
Tyler's lips part, but his cry is muffled by the tongue that El Blanco stuffs into his mouth, stretching his lips wide enough for them to crack, dried as they are by the desert air. He swallows desperately, tasting El Blanco, feeling the slickness of El Blanco's slime sliding down his throat, filling his belly, lighting a fire inside of him. It's burning out of control, and his hips rock again, the move automatic, mindless, but this time El Blanco doesn't punish him for it. Instead, El Blanco's third and final tongue is tugging at his pants, pulling them over the curve of his ass and then sharply down until they're around his knees and his cock bobs free.
Tyler spreads his legs, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as his ass shakes in the air, as desperate as a two dollar hooker. He's a sight, he knows he is, but El Blanco's mouth is still around his dick, sucking lightly at the end when all he wants is to bury his dick balls deep in that maw. El Blanco's tongue is in his mouth and down his throat, stretching him wide, and he wants the third one, wants it in his ass so goddamned bad.
He can't spread his knees wide enough, not with the fabric of his jeans wrapped around them, and it's going to hurt, it's going to fucking hurt when El Blanco finally takes him.
He cannot fucking wait.
El Blanco's tongue slides down the crease of his ass, wet and thick, spreading that slickness over his hole. It drips down onto his balls, runs along the line of his cock, which El Blanco has angled towards the ground, the pressure on his cockhead feeling so damned good. Tyler moans again, the sound still muffled, bucking his ass into El Blanco's touch and feeling like a goddamned slut.
El Blanco's little slut, begging for his boyworm to fill all of his holes.
His boyworm doesn't disappoint. There's pressure - so much pressure that it forces another sound out of Tyler's throat, one that only El Blanco's tongue in his mouth stops turning into a scream - and then El Blanco's tongue is breaching his body, splitting him apart.
It hurts. It hurts like fuck, like fucking, like he'll never take it, but then comes the pleasure, the endorphins from El Blanco's slime soaking into his body until he's shaking with it, every single nerve ending shuddering with bliss.
El Blanco's tongue slides deeper, deeper and deeper while Tyler shivers, caught between El Blanco's tongues: in his mouth, in his ass, around his dick. There's nothing but this, nothing but waves of pleasure crashing over him, sweeping over him, drowning him in their wake.
El Blanco's tongue finally slides over Tyler's prostate, thick and unyielding, taking more than Tyler can give and stay whole, and Tyler loses the fight, coming in thick, ropey strings into El Blanco's mouth, his seed spilling out to slide down El Blanco's tongue.
But El Blanco hasn't finished with him. He takes everything, keeps fucking Tyler even while Tyler's body jerks and shakes as his orgasm rushes through him, sliding even more deeply into Tyler's ass as soon as Tyler's muscles loosen. The mouth that Tyler's dick is buried in is now nuzzling at his balls, little licks and nudges that have Tyler whimpering, his dick already growing hard again. Jesus, he is. He's going to fucking bottle this shit, make a fucking fortune, build a mansion in Perfection and just let El Blanco fuck him for days.
El Blanco's tongues are still moving, driving Tyler out of his mind, reducing him to nothing but a twitching mass of over-sensitised nerve endings. All he knows is El Blanco, filling all of his senses as well as his mouth and his ass. Everything else fades out: the scent of dust in his nostrils; the heat of the desert; the sound of Burt's footsteps and muttered complaints as he rounds the corner.
"Jesus Christ, Reed. What the... Get a goddamned room, the both of you!"
Tyler's coming again, and again El Blanco lets his seed run down his tongue, glistening obscenely in the warm, golden light before Burt stomps away, shaking his head in disgust.
El Blanco's tongue is still twitching in his ass, another mouthing at Tyler's softening dick, but he finally lets the third slide out of Tyler's mouth, and the lack of anything to hold him up has Tyler slumping forward, bracing himself with his forearms against the dirt and his ass in the air as he pants and moans, El Blanco already working him up towards his third orgasm.
Figures, he thinks, as El Blanco drives another helpless cry out of him, one that has Burt slamming the door to his truck and yelling something obscene in the distance, that El Blanco would turn out to be a goddamned exhibitionist.