“Bitty.” Johnson held the plastic hanger aloft. It was one of those little tiny fancy ones they used for lingerie, with a thoroughly despoiled sock dangling from one of the clips.
Now, Bitty wouldn’t say he bought that pair of panties entirely for the hanger - they did fit and the cherry pie print was cute - but there was no denying that the hanger had crossed his mind.
“This is the fifth time.”
“The fifth?” Butter wouldn’t melt. “Gosh, I could have sworn it was the sixth, but you’re probably right, I haven’t been keeping count.”
Johnson glowered. “If you’re going to- why wouldn’t you just take it to my room?”
“Oh, is it yours?” Bitty allowed himself a glance at the sock, wrinkling his nose in understated distaste. “I couldn’t be sure who it belonged to.”
When Johnson moved towards him, Bitty was sure he’d managed to find a way to get himself beat to hell right here at Samwell, by his own teammate, in the Haus itself. It truly was a God-given talent.
But Johnson’s huge hands just gripped his hips and lifted him up to sit on the counter like he didn’t weigh a pound.
“I’m in the flour,” Bitty had time to protest, before he was being kissed breathless. He always felt small around the team but right now he felt tiny, Johnson could set him right up on the counter and still loom. When those big, strong hands grabbed where the grabbing was good and pulled him closer to the edge, Bitty couldn’t help but wrap his legs around him and moan. Good Lord, but Johnson was big. Big hands and big... socks.
“You want to know what I think about to make me nut that hard?” asked Johnson, sounding almost as overwhelmed as Bitty felt. “I think about this cute little blonde frog finding my jizz sock and hanging it up for everyone to see on his fucking panty hanger.”
Bitty moaned, fingers digging into Johnson’s back. Before he could think better of it, his trouble-making mouth added, “I’m wearing them.”
Johnson’s hips jerked against his. “Jesus, Bittle.”
“They got pies on them,” he explained inanely.
Snorting, Johnson ran his fingers over the waistband of Bitty’s shorts. “What kind of pie?”
“Cherry,” he said, before realizing how that could be taken. Johnson hid his face in Bitty’s hair and moaned, hips moving like he was going to get at Bitty right through their clothes, and Bitty knew exactly what he was saying when he added, “but you can take them off me, if you like.”
“You wanna go back to my room?”
“Oh no, Mr. Johnson,” Bitty chirped, “I know you never do it there. Not when you have the lounge, or the laundry room floor, or my kitchen to leave your mess in.”
“Well you just ask, and we’ll go right up to my room and make a mess there,” Johnson said, fingers flirting with the button on Bitty’s shorts before opening them up for a view of one cherry pie peeking out under a gingham printed elastic waistband.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out,” said Bitty demurely, leaning back to lift his hips. This was never how he imagined his first time, or any time, but Johnson’s kisses and hungry eyes had him feeling wild and daring.
And, at this particular moment, that pie Johnson was staring at was looking like a real county fair ribbon contender, if Bitty did say so himself. Stuffed to bursting and with a glossy egg-wash finish to the crust. It was no wonder a man might bend down and take a taste.
Bitty wailed as Johnson mouthed him through his panties, head banging against the counter and feet kicking helplessly. He didn’t even see where Johnson threw his shorts. If they landed in the filling Bitty was going to have something to say about it when they were done.
For now, though, he just let Johnson have his way with him, squirming when the wet heat of Johnson’s mouth pulled away.
“Now, where should I leave my jizz?” said Johnson, pulling Bitty to all but sit on his crotch and tracing his free thumb over Bitty’s lower lip. “What would you suggest I come in, Bitty?“
“Well, since you asked my opinion,” said Bitty, breathlessly. He opened his legs wider and wiggled against Johnson’s jeans. He was on his belly, legs dangling off the countertop, before he could even think of an innuendo.
Johnson bent over him, plastering himself to his back, and slipped a hand down between them to open his own pants. “Oh, Bitty, with all the cleaning you’ve been doing, you must have noticed how often I make a deposit in the sock sperm bank.” Freed from his boxers, Johnson rubbed up against the back of Bitty’s panties hard. “You don’t want me to put it in you every time, do you?”
“Well, if it would keep the common areas clean,” sniffed Bitty, even as he reached back to push his panties aside, heartbeat throbbing between his legs.
Johnson rubbed right up against him, skin to skin, and Bitty bit his lip to stifle a whine. “Oh, is that how it is? You’d be wiling to endure it nobly, for the sake of the Haus?”
“We all have our crosses to bear,” gasped Bitty, legs sliding wider on the countertop.
“You poor little virgin saint,” cooed Johnson, nuzzling him under the ear, “giving it up to the big bad goalie whenever he wants relief.”
“It’s tragic,” agreed Bitty. “There’s Crisco in the cupboard, honey.”
“Can’t I-“ Bitty saw a hand snake towards the ice-lined double boiler.
“John Johnson, if you so much as touch my leaf lard you can go right back to sticking it in that nasty old sock!”
The hand withdrew like Bitty’d rapped his knuckles, which he gladly would have. “Crisco?”
“In the cupboard.”
The cool air when Johnson stepped away was a sudden reminder how exposed he was, spread out for the taking on the kitchen counter, where anyone could walk in and see.
Huge, warm hands grabbed his cheeks and spread, hooking his panties to one side and rubbing up and down his crack with a slick thumb. Sure, he knew it was Johnson, but it could be anybody who walked in and felt like having a turn with him.
“You know, people use this for fisting,” said Johnson.
Bitty’s toes curled at the heat in his voice. “Oh, Lord, you’d kill me.” Johnson was still just rubbing him, driving Bitty wild with the slick tease of it. “Please, oh, please put it in me, I can’t stand-oh!”
Bitty’d teased himself like Johnson had, with his own little fingertips, and one time he’d snuck a carrot from the kitchen back home, though he’d been too chicken to stick it up himself. Now he had a big hockey player’s thumb inside him, pressing places he’d never been touched and making him squirm in desperation.
Johnson dipped in and out of him, rubbing with his other thumb, finally starting to press in with both. It was so wide but so shallow, Bitty felt stretched and empty at the same time.
“You can do it now,” he said, trying to wriggle back for more. “You don’t have to stretch me no more.”
“Well, I guess I don’t have to,” said Johnson, trying to sound casual but panting too hard to pull it off. “I could just line up the tip and jerk off, squirt it right in that tight little hole.”
Bitty shook his head emphatically, squirming back against Johnson’s thumbs. “You better- you better put it real deep. If you just, you know, it might could leak out and ruin my panties.”
“Oh, fuck,” groaned Johnson, “oh fuck, I can’t-“ Bitty felt the hard press of his head, thicker and hotter than his thumbs had been. “Say if I hurt you.”
It didn’t hurt hurt, not in a bad way, so Bitty hid his face in the flour and savored the feeling of being stretched wide around this big, hot man forcing his way inside and filling him up. “Oh, oh, honey, that’s good, don’t stop.”
“God, Bits, I’m half way in and I feel like I’m going to break you,” groaned Johnson.
Half way. Bitty thought he might be right about breaking him, and he wanted it. He caught one of Johnson’s hands in his and brought it to his belly. “Don’t stop until you can rub it here,” he moaned, tossing his head back. He felt the jerk of Johnson’s hips thrust a couple more inches into him, making him cry out. “Like that, oh, like that, do it hard.”
Johnson didn’t have to be asked twice. He shoved in hard enough to take Bitty’s breath away. Now Bitty could feel the bulge in his belly. He felt impossibly full, impossibly open, his body wasn’t built to sleep with a man this size, not his first time, but that just made him want it more. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted, bucking back to urge Johnson on.
Gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, Johnson jerked Bitty back to meet his thrusts. He was so strong, it felt like a piston pounding inside him, battering his insides and hollowing him out. Bitty couldn’t do a thing but hold on and take it.
Then Johnson hiked one of Bitty’s legs up over his shoulder, and Bitty saw stars on the first deep thrust. His legs were shaking, the cherry pies on his panties were a la mode, and Johnson was still pounding away at him hell for leather.
He hadn’t known what positions he liked, how could he? But now he knew he liked this. The angle felt so good and Johnson could get so deep. He couldn’t imagine getting hard again but he could feel pleasure building anyways.
When Johnson finished, Bitty liked the way it felt but he could have died of frustration. He had his fingers up himself as soon as Johnson pulled out.
“Well, I’m done,” chirped Johnson. “My sock never asked for any more.”
Bitty bit his lip to cut off a whine. “Come on, Johnson, be a gentleman, won’t you?”
“Be a gentleman and fill you up?” Laughing, Johnson slipped three huge fingers into him with no effort at all. And he knew right where to rub them to make Bitty’s toes curl. “You’re all wet and sloppy down here now, cherry pie. What do you think we could fit inside to keep you happy?”
“A- a beer can?” He could feel himself clench around Johnson’s fingers as he said it.
Johnson groaned. ”Fuck, yeah. You’d look good like that.”
Bitty made a strangled noise of agreement as he rocked on Johnson’s fingers.
“You’ve got flour on your nose,” Johnson told him, dragging him up to kiss it off. Bitty found himself shivering his way to a second climax as soon as Johnson pulled him close.
Bitty leaned heavily against his broad chest. “I don’t know if I can stand,” he said, laughing.
“Well, some people don’t like me leaving my jizz sock in common areas-“
“Oh, don’t they?”
“-so maybe I better just take you up to my room.”
“I think that would be wise,” Bitty said primly, wrapping his arms around Johnson’s shoulders in hopes it might get him carried.
Getting slung over Johnson’s shoulder like a sack of flour wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for. He kicked indignantly and got a pat on the cherry pie clad butt for his troubles.
Resigning himself to his fate, he grumbled, “Don’t forget my shorts.” He took a glance around the kitchen as Johnson retrieved them from, thank goodness, the sink. “And put that back in the fridge. And that. And take your sock with you.”
Johnson picked up the hanger and looked at it with a mournful air. “Sorry, old friend,” Johnson told the sock, “you’ve been replaced. Tragic layoffs in laundry town.”
Bitty cleared his throat pointedly.
“But such is the price of progress!” Johnson patted Bitty’s rear appeasingly, then draped the crusty sock on him to free up his other hand.
Sighing heavily, Bitty let himself be carried to the bedroom.
Chapter 2: Second Helping
Since Bitty got so messy in the kitchen, it's only sensible to go take a shower.
(Well, heck, that prompt sure got its hooks in me. :D)
Johnson dumped Bitty on the bed unceremoniously. "I'm gonna see if the shower's free. One sec."
He darted out, leaving Bitty alone in his room to marinate in the situation. Here he was, sitting on a senior's bed in nothing but a flour-covered t-shirt and ruined panties, so freshly deflowered he still felt empty down there, and if the upstairs shower was unoccupied he might just get himself done again.
Johnson popped back in. "Coast's clear, and there's one stall empty."
Bitty felt heat flood his cheeks. "One-"
"Just keep quiet and nobody'll know it's you I'm screwing." Johnson winked at him, and offered him a hand. Bitty didn't know what in heaven's name possessed him to accept.
He grabbed his shorts on the way, but he kept hold of Johnson's hand, partly out of nerves but mostly for balance. His legs were still shaking and there were sticky trails running down his thighs. Bitty's heart pounded imgining what anyone would think if they saw him like this.
But no one did see them. They made it to the shower stall and Bitty barely had time to close the door behind them before Johnson was peeling his panties off him. Even over the sound of the other shower, anyone in the room would hear the obscene slap of them hitting the ground. Johnson's big hands slid up under his shirt and Bitty let himself be undressed like a doll.
"Fuck, you look good with my come dripping out of you," groaned Johnson. Bitty turned around in time to get to enjoy the show as Johnson pulled off his own clothes. Lord, he had found one big, strong goalie to relieve him of his virtue.
From the other stall, in tones of deepest exasperation, came a cry of, "Johnson, seriously?"
Johnson turning the water on was the only thing that kept Bitty from spontaneously combusting, because that was Jack Zimmermann's voice. Jack Zimmermann, who hated his tiny, fainting-goat guts, and already looked down his nose at Bitty without knowing what was dripping out of him now. Bitty clapped his hands over his mouth to stifle a whimper.
"I'm not the first to enjoy my own sloppy seconds in this shower, nor will I be the last," Johnson declared serenely.
"Johnson's a dog," Jack said, in what was just about the most agreeable tone he ever had taken with Bitty.
Bitty hardly had time to be annoyed about that before Johnson had retorted, "Woof," lifted him up, and planted him against the wall. Not wanting to be dropped, Bitty hung on for dear life and tried to resist the urge to squirm. It was hard with Johnson humping between his cheeks, never really going in but just rubbing and rubbing him under the hot shower, letting Bitty feel how long and thick he was compared to him. Bitty could hardly begrudge him that, seeing as he was well over six foot and Bitty got to reap the benefits.
He wanted to beg to be stuffed full of those benefits right this minute, but he couldn't say a word with Jack six feet away on the other side of a plastic divider. So he just rocked his hips and tried to rub himself on Johnson's abs.
"You wanna learn how to suck a cock, cherry pie?" Bitty nodded vigorously while Jack cussed Johnson up and down from the other stall. Still stayed though, Bitty thought as Johnson put him down and washed himself off. Jack could've cut his shower short and been long gone by now, if he wasn't planning on listening in.
A huge hand cupped the back of his neck and guided Bitty to his knees. Johnson was even more impressive head to head, as it were. And, oh goodness, he was already dripping from how he'd enjoyed Bitty so far.
Bitty looked up at Johnson through his lashes and leaned forward for a tentative little lick. He liked the slippery feel of Johnson's skin under his tongue more than he liked the taste, but he sure did like the feel a lot. He licked again, and again.
"Good, fuck, B-baby, that's right," Johnson half-moaned. "Put it in your mouth for me, sweetheart."
"I'm counting your fines, Johnson!"
But Bitty thought Jack's voice sounded a little strangled too. He put his lips around the tip and sucked. Like a popsicle, he told himself, when it's too cold to touch your teeth to. He thought he must not be doing half bad, from the way Johnson's hand on the back of his neck tightened.
Encouraged, he bobbed his head, trying to take as much as he could. Johnson was so big, it felt like he could hardly get anywhere before he choked. Both his hands together wouldn't cover what was left over. If they were alone, Bitty just might suggest to Johnson that he could grab him by the hair and make him take more. As it was, he just had to struggle along and use his hands to help him.
It got better with Johnson getting hotter for it. He started to use his hips, for one, and Bitty could ride those thrusts and get a little more in him. And he got a little rougher grabbing on Bitty's hair, which turned out to be very much appreciated indeed. Bitty whimpered around his mouthful. Oh, he liked that.
Now that Johnson was getting a little bit demanding about taking what was on offer, Bitty found himself pressing his thighs together like that could keep the needy ache under control. He chided himself that if he were better at this he'd have a free hand to take care of himself.
B-baby. Johnson'd caught himself that time, but that was before he was so far gone as to be this rough with him, making Bitty's eyes water with barely controlled thrusts. What if he yelled out Bitty's name for God and Jack and everyone to hear? He swallowed hard, and it turned out that let Johnson slide a lot deeper.
Johnson moaned, hands clenching in Bitty's hair. "Oh God, oh God, that's it, just keep swallowing, baby, breathe through your nose." Bitty tried his best to do like Johnson said, but it was hard. Johnson was so big, and even though he wasn't all inside he was still stretching Bitty's jaw and throat beyond anything he'd ever imagined when he'd sucked his fingers and imagined one of Moo Maw's wrestling heroes was taking advantage. (Lord, that woman had more signed pictures of scantily clad muscle men adorning her home than he'd ever aspired to in his wildest dreams. Liking men was just how God made him, but liking them so big he'd gladly lay at her feet.)
A slow roll of Johnson's hips coaxed him to take it deeper. "Am I hurting you?"
Bitty shook his head, well, as much as he could. Thank goodness the shower was hiding his tears, because he knew he'd look a mess otherwise.
"You're doing so good, deep throating me your very first time." From the other stall, Bitty almost thought he heard Jack choke off some noise. "You were just made for this, weren't you?" Bitty moaned in agreement, and it must have been high enough to pass for a girl's, because Jack sure sounded like he finished over there. Johnson finished too, a hot, wet rush in his throat that Bitty tried his dangdest to swallow. How could he have so much left? He'd already filled Bitty to dripping at one end.
Lucky for him, Johnson pulled out instead of drowning him, and did the rest all over Bitty's face. It felt hot and dirty, and Bitty wished the shower didn't wash it off him so quick. Maybe Johnson would want to do it again sometime, and make him leave it on.
Johnson caught both Bitty's wrists in one hand before he could reach down and find some relief for himself. He glared as Johnson pulled him to his feet. This had better be good, it had better be darn good.
The sound of the other shower had stopped, and Bitty could hear Jack toweling off brusquely. After glancing around the assorted shower caddies hanging in the stall, Johnson's eyes lit on one of those loofah-on-a-stick back washers.
"That was Marsho's and he graduated," said Johnson, "so I'm going to fuck you with it until you finish that hat trick for me, baby." All was forgiven, that was what Bitty tried to convey with bedroom eyes and a helpless whimper, he liked this so much better than taking care of himself.
"Twenty five dollars, Johnson," Jack called from the door.
"Yeah, yeah." Johnson picked up the back washer, twirling it in his fingers like a baton.
As soon as the door was safely shut, Bitty asked the question that was turning his legs to jelly. "Which end you gonna use in me?"
"Fuck," groaned Johnson, "fuck, you can't talk like that just after I came, Bits, you're going to kill me." He didn't look like he really minded though, the way he leaned closer and pinned Bitty up against the wall. "I was just gonna nail you with the handle. I thought that would be freaky enough for an innocent little frog like you."
"Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," sighed Bitty with the air of one gravely disappointed. He was shaking all over but he couldn't let a good chirp go. "Considering what I've seen previous. But, honey, even a goalie who leaves his mess all over the Haus can learn which end's for cleaning with."
"Why don't you tell me step by step," said Johnson, leaning down to nibble under his ear, "how to clean out a dirty jizz sock?"
"F-first you soap that end up real good," he said breathlessly, watching Johnson lathering the loofah as if from a million miles away.
Johnson looked at him skeptically. "You're not about to faint, are you?"
"No!" Being so offended brought Bitty right back to himself, and he kicked Johnson in the shin just hard enough to let him know that Jack was right, he was a dog.
"Because you super looked like you were going to faint."
"Well, I wasn't," huffed Bitty. He tossed his head to get his wet hair out of his face and looked at that soapy back washer with lust in his eyes. "Now you take that, and you wash whatever you got dirty when you were playing with yourself."
"You mean wash it from the outside?" Johnson played dumb, tracing the loofah along Bitty's body to make him tremble.
"No, honey, you ain't gonna get anything clean that way," said Bitty, who at this moment was a little too preoccupied to worry about causing his mama to faint or Coach to fall in a bucket of paint. "You gotta get right in where you made your mess and scrub."
It didn't feel like a man, when Johnson opened him up with it. It didn't feel like a toy built to pleasure someone, either. It felt like just what it was, a wood and fabric tool to stick somewhere dirty. It dragged along Bitty's insides, wet and soapy but so far from the smooth texture of skin. Johnson got bolder when he moaned, jamming the stick deeper inside him.
"I came so deep in you, Bitty, I wouldn't want to miss a spot."
"You are learning fast, honey," Bitty panted. "Soon you'll be doing your own dishes. Oh!" Johnson twisted the back washer inside him like it was a bottle brush and Bitty's legs slipped open wider, leaving him half-hanging from Johnson's grip on his wrists.
"Someday I'm gonna go to a gay bar in Atlanta and be the most disappointed man in the universe," laughed Johnson, leaning in to nuzzle Bitty's neck. "Where are all the pint-sized sluts lining up to have their cherries popped? The ones who want the second thing stretching out their cute little holes to be some fucking scrub brush I found?"
"And they probably won't make you pie neither," panted Bitty, hoping this reminder might inspire a little extra generosity.
"They probably won't," Johnson lamented. He kissed Bitty on the forehead, then yanked the back washer all the way out, leaving him gasping at the loss. Bitty could hear soapy water and Johnson's leavings splash on the tile. The air felt cold where he was still gaping open. Before he had time to recover, Johnson shoved it right back in as deep as before. Bitty pressed his head back against the tiles and tried not to wail.
Each penetration felt huge when Johnson did it like this, opening him all the way every single time. When Johnson changed the angle on him, driving that hard wooden stick right up against where he needed it, it was so intense he couldn't help but tilt his hips away.
Johnson dropped Bitty's wrists and caught him around the waist before his legs could give out on him. Holding him like this, Johnson posed him like a doll and held his hips still.
"You want me to make you take it like that?"
"Do it, honey," gasped Bitty, "make me."
This time he couldn't squirm away, Johnson held him right there and started again, long, full thrusts that had Bitty screaming even though he knew he should keep quiet, pulling out to leave him empty and filling him back up again. Johnson only paused in his pounding to grind and scrub in just the right place to make him drip like a faucet.
"You going to come soft for me, Bittle?"
"I think so - oh!" This time, when Johnson rubbed inside him, Bitty's legs clamped tight, a desperate instinct to keep it inside and get more, more, right there.
Johnson rocked it inside him. "Is that where you're dirty?" Johnson asked, licking the shell of his ear. Bitty nodded deleriously. "Right on the prostate, what a coincidence. I'd almost think you just want to be fucked so bad you'd let me do it with anything."
Bitty jerked and bucked in Johnson's arms. He'd never had an orgasm like this in his life, and it felt like it just didn't stop. Johnson made him ride it until he felt like he really would faint, before finally pulling the brush out of him and letting Bitty shudder out the aftershocks in his arms.
"Oh. Oh my." Bitty tried to compose himself while Johnson gently washed the both of them off in a more practical sort of way than he had been going at it, then turned the water off.
"You want to take a nap?" asked Johnson as he toweled Bitty off. "I'm taking a nap."
Bitty shook his head. "I got pies to finish." Even with him up on tiptoes, Johnson had to bend down to get a kiss.
His panties were a lost cause, but he slipped into his shirt and shorts, feeling oversensitive and tender. He looked up at Johnson. "But, you know, if you need any relief...." He looked up at Johnson coyly, just like his heart wasn't pounding fit to burst. "Well, I'd prefer you not leave any more socks around the Haus."
Johnson, still naked and still eyeing him like a prize pie, slipped a big hand down the back of his shorts and let his fingers explore how well-used he'd left Bitty already. "Mm, Bits, you'll be nice and convienient like this if I need a study break." He hooked a couple fingers inside like he could lift Bitty up just like that. "Easy access."
Trying to sound cool and unaffected, Bitty said, "You just wait five minutes so we won't be leaving together." His voice hardly shook at all, and he put a little extra wiggle in his walk on his way out the door.
Chapter 3: Cream Pies
Bitty does some baking, just like usual.
The extra time to chill sure hadn't done his ingredients any harm, that was the important thing, and Bitty couldn't wait to serve up some peach tarts to all the boys. He got right back to work. It was just like normal, except that when he shook his hips to his music the slide of his shorts over his bare, oversensitized skin sent a jolt right through him.
Random and Holster wandered in just in time, looking like they needed some. "Hi, y'all, is everything okay?"
"Hey, Bitty," said Ransom. "Yeah, just looking like a long night, this O-chem set is gonna be brutal."
"Would a couple peach tarts help?"
They both brightened. "Aw, Bits, yeah they would," said Holster, taking a pair off the tray. "Some frog," he said to Ransom.
"Grade-A frog," Ransom agreed. "Thanks, Bits." They wandered up the stairs, looking a little cheerier.
Bitty smiled to himself, turning his attention back to the counter. Since he already had his ingredients out, he might as well start a couple pecan pies too. There was nothing like a pecan pie to keep you going through a late night homework marathon.
He squeaked in surprise as warm hands settled on his hips.
"Hey," said Johnson, "you can keep working, I just want to get off real quick."
Bitty rolled his eyes as he let Johnson slide his shorts down. "Oh, I can keep working? Bless your heart, that is so considera-" He shoved the back of his fist against his mouth to keep it from turning into a wail as Johnson filled him up in one smooth thrust. And he most certainly could not keep working, because Johnson was holding him up by the hips and jerking him up and down like Bitty really was a sock he was using to pleasure himself.
This wasn't like the first time, Johnson wasn't taking any time to tease or paying any attention to Bitty's pleasure. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't affected, not with that huge thing battering his insides and just about knocking the breath out of him. It was just starting to get really good when Johnson finished, quick aa he promised, and pulled out. He didn't even seem to notice how Bitty was squirming when Johnson pulled his shorts up.
"Thanks, Bits." Johnson pecked him on the cheek. "Back to the Sartre mines."
"You want a peach tart?" Bitty asked, trying not to sound as flustered as he felt.
"Just had one," Johnsom chirped. Bitty rolled his eyes as Johnson headed upstairs to leave him to his baking.
He saran wrapped a tart to save for Johnson anyways, in case he wanted to actually eat something later instead of just smarting off.
It was hard to concentrate on making pecan pies. He'd already been all sensitive down there and now Johnson had to go and leave him dripping. He could feel a little drop rolling down his thigh and hastily grabbed a tissue to wipe it away before it could pass the hemline of his shorts. Lord, what if someone saw?
Shitty wandered in from the lounge in a pair of boxer shorts, looking like he'd probably just woken up from a serious couch nap. "Hi, Bitty." He looked appraisingly at the counter. "Are those peach tarts?"
"Mm-hm, you should have one."
"Thanks." And to Bitty's mortified horror, he grabbed a fork, settled in at the counter, and asked, "So, how's it going?" before digging in with the clear intention to stay and chat while he ate.
Bitty tried, oh Lord, he tried to make conversation. Hanging around talking with Shitty was usually so easy, but usually he didn't have anything dripping down his thighs. Another big glob slipped out of him while he babbled to Shitty about brown sugar. He couldn't just excuse himself for a moment, because if Shitty even glamced in his direction while he was walking away he'd see pearly snail trails peeking out from the bottoms of Bitty's shorts.
"Oh, hey, Shitty." Johnson was back. Bitty caught his eyes and tried his dangdest to send a psychic message. Fix this. "Dude, have you embarked on this week's ur-math spiritual journey yet?"
"Fuuuuck, is it gonna be one of those?"
Johnson nodded solemnly. "I just downloaded the set. Dude. I'm down here to make coffee and ask Bitty if pies can have caffeine."
"Well," Bitty began, distracted for a moment from his predicament.
Shitty's head was already in his hands. "Take formal logic, they said. It's good for the LSAT, they said." He sighed, pushed his glasses up. "Thanks, man. I better start now, tomorrow is philo night. Thanks for the pie, Bits."
"Good luck, Shitty!"
Shitty took his plate with him and headed out to the lounge. Bitty breathed a heavy sigh of relief while Johnson fussed with the coffee machine.
"You probably want some kind of cream pie," Bitty mused, tapping his bottom lip.
Johnson's eyes strayed to his legs and Bitty felt all the blushing he'd held back talking to Shitty rush to his cheeks at the same time.
"I meant I could make the custard with coffee, you dog!"
"Can I get both?" he asked, moving close to play his fingers over Bitty's sticky thighs.
"Go on," sighed Bitty, feigning indifference. He still hadn't gotten to to anything about the last time Johnson got him all hot and bothered. But he'd been getting teased from the inside for an hour, surely this time it'd be enough. "But not here, honey, there's too many people in and out just now."
"Okay." Johnson took him by the hand and led him to the basement. They didn't even get all the way downstairs, Johnson just pressed him up against the door and lifted him off his feet. "I wish these had a zipper in the back," Johnson said, fumbling to get Bitty's shorts down without dropping him. Bitty couldn't help but moan a little at the idea of wearing something like that for Johnson's convenience. This time he could hear the squelching of Johnson's thrusts and it made him blush like crazy. He wiggled to get himself a good angle and, oh, Johnson was awfully strong, Bitty wasn't going to last long at all. But just before Bitty could get there, Johnson was done, and he was wet inside again.
It kept right on happening. Bitty finished taking a cream pie out of the oven, Johnson put another cream pie in him. Bitty passed off pecan and coffee cream pies to all the boys with his thighs looking like someone'd done a bad job icing them, but nobody noticed. Johnson stopped by to bend him over the kitchen counter and do him again, the man was insatible.
Bitty still hadn't managed to take care of his own needs. Unlike some people, he had projects to finish and couldn't just spend all day playing with himself. But by this point he felt so full that every little movement only got him more hot and bothered. When he got his baking to a good stopping point, he marched right up the stairs to Johnson's room.
Johnson, lying on his bed, looked up from his homework as Bitty closed the door behind him.
"John Johnson, I thought we agreed you wouldn't leave no more messes around the Haus." Bitty strode forward and shoved his shorts down, standing with his arms crossed and his head held high. "And just look at what you left in my kitchen!"
"Don't you 'aw, Bits' me, Mister."
With a sigh, Johnson put down his pencil and rolled out of bed. He walked around Bitty in a circle, inspecting him. "I guess I did put a lot of loads in my jizz sock, didn't I?"
"Dirty thing." Johnson ran a hand down his back. "Does my jizz sock need to be scrubbed out again?"
"You have to make cleaning a habit," Bitty told him primly.
Johnson didn't bother to check if the coast was clear this time, he just scooped Bitty up, naked from the waist down and messy, and made a reckless dash to the showers. They got lucky. Bitty's heart was racing. They got lucky this time.
Before he even had a chance to get his shirt off, Johnson stripped down and turned the shower on. Startled, Bitty squeaked.
"Sorry." Johnson didn't sound sorry. He sounded like half his mind was still on homework as he lathered up the back washer and bent Bitty over facing the wall. He just shoved it in and started pumping away at Bitty. "I'm just in a hurry."
"You had time to make a mess in me," panted Bitty, "you should have time to- oh!" Johnson was twisting the brush as he thrust, like he was giving a mug a perfunctory scrubbing out. It was so much sensation, the loofah rubbing him all over and the unyielding wooden handle forcing his body to accomodate it.
His hands scrabbled on the tile when Johnson changed his technique to dragging the brush oh so slow and oh so hard over Bitty's inner walls. He only had to press it where Bitty needed it twice before Bitty was spilling on the shower wall.
"Let's see." Johnson pulled the stick all the way out and stuck two fingers in Bitty. He pulled them out sticky with his own mess and sighed. "You're still dirty, Bits. I can't stop yet."
The deep thrust of the brush re-entering him took Bitty's breath away. Johnson gave him a few strokes all the way in and all the way out, leaving him gasping and whimpering, and then went back to twisting it around inside him. Bitty liked how Johnson was being a little too rough with him. Johnson was in a hurry, why would he be gentle scrubbing out his mess?
Bitty wasn't even hard anymore, but the twisting loofah inside him was sending waves of pleasure through his body. Johnson didn't bother to work him to a second orgasm, though. As soon as he deemed Bitty clean enough, he slung him over his shoulder again and carried him right back to his room, still in his dripping wet tshirt.
"Dry off and put on one of mine," Johnson said.
"Thank you," Bitty said coolly, struggling to stand on his wobbly legs and trying to pretend he wasn't half hoping Johnson would want to play with him some more once he saw Bitty swallowed up in one of his shirts. "Now, is there anything else you want to do to me tonight before I get to my own homework?"
Johnson shrugged. "You could bring it over and work here." He patted a spot on the bed beside him. "I might want to jerk off later."
"Well," Bitty said, a flush high in his cheeks. "Just so long as you clean up after yourself."
Chapter 4: Lattice Top
Bitty lay on his belly on the bed, wearing nothing but Johnson's jersey and a pensive frown. Chin propped up on his hands, feet kicking in the air, he pondered the mysteries of Jahn-Teller distortion, because gosh, that's what Eric Bittle should take as a cognate: chemistry. Baking has lots of chemistry, it'll be fun!
Four hours into the homework set from crystal structure hell, Bitty didn't want to see another lattice for at least a month. It was going to be singles, doubles, crumb tops, and graham crackers from here on out.
Johnson rolled on top of him, covering him fully for a warm, thrilling moment before kneeling up to straddle Bitty's legs. He planted his hands high on Bitty's thighs and gave him a squeeze. "Geez, you look cute concentrating like that, Bits."
Graham crackers, thought Bitty, as Johnson's hands wandered up to cup his cheeks, then spread them apart. Right now graham crackers sounded like just the ticket, seeing as they were invented to discourage this sort of behavior.
"Honey," Bitty said, wriggling at the sensation of cool air where he was so sensitive, "if you like me concentrating, you shouldn't be doing that."
"Here." Johnson pushed his jersey up to Bitty's armpits, picked up his book and papers, and set them on Bitty's bare back. "See? We're working. You can be my cute, little desk."
"Are you always this frisky with your desks?" The last word ended in a gasp as Johnson traced his ink-pen down Bitty's spine, all the way down.
"Well, next IKEA run, if I find a model that makes me lingenberry pies, I'll take it home and fuck it."
Lingenberry was a good idea, Bitty thought, reaching for his phone. Just a two minute break to look up recipes, then he'd get right back to bond lengths, honest to God.
"You've got so many deluxe features," Johnson declared fondly, drawing tiny, teasing circles that made Bitty squirm. "Heated seating." He scooted forwards a little, settling himself on Bitty's thighs. "Ergonomic curves to fit my hands just right." Johnson's right hand, warm and huge, slid down Bitty's ribs and around his hip to cup his cheek and, Lord, it really did fit just right. "Built in pencil holder."
Bitty gasped as he felt the ink pen press inside him. He couldn't help it. Even one of his own fingers would be thicker but this was so- so- Johnson didn't even do anything with it, he just left it there.
Shifting his weight on Bitty's thighs, Johnson stretched over to his real desk, the one that wasn't hiding it's face in the duvet, and picked something up. Something that rattled. He set it down right next to Bitty's head and Bitty turned his face to look. When he got up the nerve to open his eyes, he saw a beer stein full of assorted writing implements.
Johnson's hand reached down and pulled out a battered old pencil. Bitty found himself unable to take his eyes off it until Johnson took it away. He felt it a second later, tracing swooping curves on his left hip.
The image of it, dented and scuffed, was clear as day behind his eyes as Johnson traced the dull, graphite tip around where the ink pen was sticking out of him, then slowly pressed inside. It still wasn't anywhere near big but it felt so unfamiliar that Bitty found himself acutely aware of every sensation - the contrast between the two objects inside him, the strange shape they made together. Johnson withdrew another pencil from the stein.
"And just how many of those do you think you'll need?" asked Bitty.
"I just figured I'd transfer them all over," said Johnson casually. "You like it when I'm tidy like that, don't you, Bits?"
"Y-yes." The second pencil shifted around inside him, slotting into a little triangle with the other two writing implements. Bitty tried to play it cool, start on his homework again. It wasn't until Johnson had stuffed two more ink pens in him he realized he'd read the same sentence about ten times.
Now that there were a few things in him already, Johnson's strategy for inserting new writing implements changed. He could add them right in the middle, with the others making convenient handles for levering Bitty open. Two mechanical pencils and a sharpie had Bitty struggling not to shift against the bed for friction.
Johnson reached in the stein for a large, yellow highlighter, thicker than the other items he'd put inside Bitty so far. He pried Bitty open enough to get it started, then slid it into the middle of the bunch. The rolling, ridged bundle inside him expanded once again.
It was starting to be a tighter fit now, pressing Bitty inside in ways that had him panting against the bed. A second highlighter, pink, made him gasp. This was starting to feel wider than Johnson has stretched him before, though maybe the unforgiving hardness of wood and plastic had him imagining it.
The sound of a zip and a warm weight on his thigh made him aware that he wasn't the only one getting hot from this.
"You're staying so still for me," Johnson said, stroking his back.
"A good desk shouldn't wobble," Bitty informed him with a touch of pride.
"See, what did I say?" Johnson pressed two pencils into him at once, then patted him on affectionately the bottom. "Deluxe."
The beer stein wasn't empty yet but it was getting closer. Lord, he had so much in him. Blushing, Bitty couldn't help but think of the view Johnson must have. If the slowly growing puddle on his thigh was anything to go by, he must like what he saw.
There were three ink pens and two of those big highlighters left. Bitty wanted them all. The stationary penetration felt good, he liked it, but it wasn't enough. It was only when Johnson pushed something new inside him and made the rest shift to accomodate it that Bitty felt really close.
He gave a gasping little cry as Johnson slid the ink pens in at once.
"Fuck, Bits, are you really going to come from being stuffed full of school supplies?" Johnson moaned, rocking slightly against Bitty's leg.
Bitty couldn't find the voice to answer. He just whimpered against the bed and gave a tiny, jerking nod. He was shivering as Johnson used the writing implements already inside him to spread him for the next highlighter. Oh, it felt big in him now.
The last highlighter had him so close, teetering on the edge with little hitching gasps, not knowing what he needed or how to ask for it.
"Oh, fuck." Johnson moved on top of him, prying apart the ends of the items sticking out of Bitty and pressing himself in the center. It was too big to really go in, but Johnson laid on top of him, covering Bitty's little body completely, the homework on Bitty's back crushed between them, and humped against him just like that. Bitty moaned at the blissful stretch of the shifting objects inside him. But what brought him to a climax, pressed against the bed, was that feeling of being pinned down and mounted, helpless to do anything but let himself be taken.
It didn't take long for Johnson to follow him, spilling in the midst of the writing implements and letting it drip right down inside Bitty, wet and hot.
Johnson slumped on top oh him, the solid weight of him giving Bitty a thrill. Not to mention the feeling of everything inside him being pressed a little deeper.
"I should do you in the IKEA showroom on a desk and at the same time say you are a desk," said Johnson.
Bitty wriggled under him in protest. "That doesn't even make sense," he protested, though the idea of being done over a desk in public did bring a flush to his cheeks.
Slowly, Johnson pushed himself up to sit on Bitty's legs again. He straightened the papers on Bitty's back, then pulled a pencil out of him, making Bitty's oversensitized body tremble. "Oh, man. I got jizz all over all my pencils now."
"That's what happens." He wasn't sure which part precisely he was scolding Johnson for, but he put his all into the delivery.
"Ah, well, I'll deal with it later. Gotta finish this homework up first."
Bitty sighed. Homework. Right. Maybe a power nap wouldn't be a bad idea before he made another try at his own. He folded his arms under his head and dozed off to the feeling of Johnson away scribbling on his back.
Chapter 5: Overflowing With Filling
Bitty and Johnson do some midnight cross-training in watersports.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," said Johnson, ruffling his hair. Manners abandoning him due to extraordinaty circumstances, Bitty grunted and covered his head with his arms. "You still planning on finishing that chem set?"
"No," Bitty whined, scrubbing sleep out of his eyes with his balled up fists. "Yes." He pushed himself up to his elbows. "I guess."
Johnson pecked him on the cheek. "That's the spirit, frog. Come on." Bitty was suddenly reminded that he was stuffed full of writing utensils as Johnson gripped them all, gave just one teasing thrust to make Bitty's eyes cross, and pulled it all out of him, leaving him gasping at the emptiness. Johnson caught him under the armpits and picked him right up, setting him on his feet. He picked up Bitty's chem book and homework and handed them to him. "Let's get some coffee in you."
"I need pants," protested Bitty, even as he was letting Johnson lead him by the hand to the door.
"Do you, though?"
Bitty pondered this for long enough to end up most of the way down the hall. At that point, it just seemed silly to make a fuss and go all that way back - and, heck, he could always say he was just wearing Johnson's jersey because he got flour on him, which he did, and it wasn't like anyone could really tell he didn't have anything on underneath, the darn thing hung practically to his knees.
"Here," said Johnson, leading him to the lounge, "I'll get you some coffee and pie, you just concentrate on working."
It was only after Johnson had retreated to the kitchen that Bitty realized his fatal mistake. He stared at the lounge couch. The lounge couch, teeming as it was with abhorrent life, seemed to stare back.
Bitty stood, frozen, imagining he could see the pestilential swarm advancing, quivering pseudopods groping blindly in search of flesh. He took an unconscious step backwards.
His eyes snapped up to meet Johnson's in wordless pleading.
Johnson was holding a full carafe in one hand and a pecan pie balanced on two beer steins in the other, all of which he proceeeded to unload on the coffee table. "Oh my god, you frogs are such babies about the couch." He flopped down casually on his back, head and feet propped up on the pillows resting against either arm rest. "See? Ol' Couchie never hurt anybody." He thumped a cushion affectionately. Bitty could practically see the noxious cloud of spores.
"Well, you can do what you want, John Johnson, you're a grown man, but you could not pay me to sit on that couch! Not even if I was wearing a hazmat suit and certainly not in my birthday suit." Bitty folded his arms resolutely as Johnson groped for the TV remote.
"So sit on my lap." Johnson patted the crotch of his sweatpants and, Lord, even when Johnson was soft, the sight was impressive enough to make Bitty's mouth water. "I'll watch ESPN classic and keep you company."
With an impish grin, Johnson tucked the band of his swearpants under his goodies and gave himself a few long, long strokes to get going. Cheeks burning, Bitty glanced around furtively before approaching the couch. He turned around, let Johnson position himself, took a deep, steadying breath, and tried to sit down side-saddle on Johnson's lap.
This was the first time he'd really had to do it to himself, controlling the pace as he sank slowly down. It was hard -Johnson was so big and even though the stretch felt good and Bitty already knew how much he loved the feeling of Johnson being all the way inside him, his self-preservation instincts just didn't want to cooperate.
Moaning and tossing his head in frustrated ardor, Bitty grabbed Johnson's hands in his and pressed them to his hips. "Help me." Remembering his manners, he blushed and added, "Please."
"Aw, Bits, I should have known." Johnson gave his hips a fond little pinch. "My old sock never slid itself onto my cock either. A jizz sock doesn't know how to do that, it's just a cozy little thing for me to come in, right, baby?"
Bitty nodded enthusiastically, too short-circuited by lust to even try to talk. Oh, Lord, the things Johnson said - Bitty was going to just die if that man didn't hurry up and make good on his big talk.
God bless him, Johnson didn't make Bitty wait long. He jerked him down by the hips and Bitty had to clap both hands over his mouth to keep from waking the whole Haus up with his wail. The big hands on Bitty's hips bounced him up and down, sometimes lifting his feet right off the ground when Johnson wanted a big, long thrust.
Bitty kept his hands over his mouth, even though he wanted to touch himself so bad. He just couldn't stop whimpering with the way Johnson was talking.
"Oh God, Bits, you're just so little. I don't know how you take it. I don't know how you like it, you were a virgin this morning and now all you want is to get stuffed up to your lungs with cock and fucking anything else that'll fit, Christ-"
The slapping of skin on skin was so loud Bitty could hear it over the flow of dirty talk. Loud enough he was sure someone would hear, someone would come see Johnson using him so hard Bitty's belly bulged with every stroke.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Johnson yanked Bitty all the way down to sit on his lap. Bitty straightened the jersey and looked down at himself to see if it was obvious he was hard and, Lord, it was plain to see they both were. He pulled his knees up under the jersey and grabbed his homework off Johnson's chest for good measure.
Just in time too, as Holster's chirp drifted over from the kitchen. "Ooooh, Johnson, you dog! Boyfriend jersey alert!"
By the time Ransom and Holster rounded the couch enough to see his face, Johnson was in tears of laughter and Bitty was blushing scarlet.
"Oh. Hey, Bits. Uh..." - Ransom gave Bitty a grin and a tentative thumbs up, which Holster echoed with the hand not holding a six-pack-"...boyfriend jersey alert?"
"Spilled-flour-on-me jersey alert," Bitty corrected with, not to toot his own horn, admirable poise.
"Oh man, is that the eighty Olympics?" Holster asked Johnson, at the same time as Ransom asked, "Oh man, is that Michaels's crystal set?"
They both answered "yes" simultaneously, although with different levels of enthusiasm. Holster sat down on Bitty's left and Ransom in his right.
"You guys are heavy," grumbled Johnson.
Holster thumped his shoulder. "Bro, your sacrifice is appreciated."
"Dude," Ransom said, reaching past Bitty for the carafe and one of the steins, "trade you beer for coffee?"
"Yeah, sure." Johnson grabbed a Nattie light like he wasn't so deep inside Bitty was sitting full on his lap.
And, bless their hearts, they just stayed!
It wasn't really as bad as he feared, even though he spent the first few minutes terrified of being caught and feeling himself drip every time he thought of it. But it helped that hanging out with Ransom and Holster was 'swawesome and, after a while, Bitty started to get used to the huge, hard prescence inside him. It wasn't like he stopped feeling it, and he never seemed to get any softer with Johnson pressing up on all the right places inside him like that, but the heat inside him stopped feeling urgent and started to just feel... nice. Comfortable. Like being filled up and ready was just how Bitty was meant to be.
They spent the next two hours piled up on the couch together. Ransom and Bitty drank terrible coffee and Ransom helped him with chem while Bitty pretended the only degeneracy going on here was quantum. Holster and Johnson drank terrible beer and watched the miracle on ice while Johnson pretended the tightest stick-handling going on was by the Russian Five. Then Bitty finished his chem set before the game ended, so they all just hung out watching hockey for a little. It was kind of a really good time, even though Bitty was getting a little worried and uncomfortable as all that coffee started to catch up with his bladder.
By the time Ransom and Holster had said their goodnights and headed up to the attic, Bitty was a lot worried and uncomfortable.
"Excuse me, hon, I'll be right back," said Bitty, wiggling in place in an attempt to figure out how exactly he was going to get off Johnson's lap. All he really accomploshed was making both of them moan.
Johnson laid hand on Bitty's thigh and cast an absolutely wicked glance at the coffee table. "Carafe's empty."
"I'm not saying you have to," Johnson said innocently, "I'm just saying I'd like to know how it feels to fuck you while you're pissing." He gripped Bitty's hips and began the slow process of lifting up him high enough to get him free. "Bet it'd feel incredible inside you."
Keeping his voice airy even though he was sure he was redder than a firetruck, Bitty said, "Oh, alright. Put me down, then."
Eagerly, Johnson grabbed the empty carafe and held it in position, holding Bitty up with one arm.
Then Johnson let him drop.
This time, Bitty didn't even have the wherewithal to cover his mouth when he screamed. Thank Lord God in heaven Johnson was a good goalie, because he got his huge free hand up fast, covering Bitty's mouth entirely and smothering his wails of ecstasy.
Bitty had expected it to be hard to let go, but when Johnson just dropped him down like that, letting gravity give a jarring thrust that battered Bitty's insides, he couldn't help it. What Bitty hadn't expected was how good it felt. The usual satisfaction was so different when coupled with the sensation of Johnson thrusting up into him. The hot, wet rush felt almost like a climax, and like it was stimulating him from the inside, and, oh, it was so dirty! Johnson was making Bitty degrade himself while he took him hard and rough, keeping him quiet with a huge hand over his mouth - it all made Bitty feel wanton and helplessly ravished.
"Fuck, oh fuck, Bitty," moaned Johnson. "Jesus, are you going to come from that? Come on, Bits, do it, so I don't have to clean up after you. Be my good little fuck toy."
Bitty did climax then, spilling right into the filthy carafe.
Groaning, Johnson set the carafe carefully on the table and grabbed Bitty's hips, turning him to face Johnson's legs. With a jolt of horror, Bitty felt Johnson starting to roll them over to have him from behind.
"On the floor, on the floor, on the floor!"
Laughing, Johnson rolled them, mercifully, off the couch.
"Thank you," Bitty huffed, dropping his head to his folded arms and arching his back, partly because he needed the stretch and partly out of hope it'd look so irrsistably sexy that Johnson would skip chirping him and get back to business.
His plan succeeded. Johnson nailed him so hard he was giving Bitty's knees and elbows rug burn. Bitty could have sworn they'd travelled at least two feet by the time Johnson finished with a strangled moan. Shifting impatiently, Bitty spread his knees a little wider.
"Hon, you got me all worked up again," he said, pouting.
Johnson laughed. "Well, you got me needing to piss, so let's call it even."
Bitty couldn't even say what that made him want. It was too dirty. All he could do was let his knees slide farther apart and hide his burning face against the rug as he reached back to grip his cheeks and spread them wide in invitation.
"Jesus, Bits." Johnson's hands on his hips were tight enough to bruise. "I never even pissed in my sock." But he was already doing it, filling Bitty up with wet, filthy heat that had him whimpering against the carpet. "Oh, god, look at you. So fucking hot for it you're already dripping on the carpet. You're going to kill me, Bits."
Bitty felt heavy with it by the time Johnson pulled out, he felt it sloshing as his hips moved. He hadn't thought about how much a big man like Johnson might have to put in him.
"Gotta plug you up," Johnson said hoarsly. Then Bitty felt the cool metal of an empty beer can touch his oversensitive skin. He couldn't help the whine that forced its way out of his throat any more than he could help pushing his hips back for more. "You're so red and swollen down here." Bitty could feel himself open, stretching wide around the beer can. "I guess your poor little hole has had a pretty big day, huh?" Johnson said, tapping the end of the can like he was giving Bitty a comfortinf pat.
Bitty gripped the carpet and moaned. "Johnson, p-please."
"Please fuck my piss into you with a beer can until you come?" Bitty nodded, breath coming in desperate, gasping little cries, and felt Johnson lean down to kiss the back of his head. "'kay."
Johnson's arms were strong, and he'd had all day to learn exactly where to angle that beer can to make Bitty see stars. "Oh, oh, Johnson! You can- harder!" Bitty was sure he was going to be terribly sore tomorrow but he didn't care, he wanted more. Johnson gave him more. More until he came, screaming into the rug. More until Bitty was limp and twitching. He left the can inside. He had to, Bitty thought, lying on the rug with the world sideways and swimming in front of his eyes, has to plug me up real good. The thought sent an impotent, overtired twinge through his groin.
"Don't worry, Bits," Johnson said, scooping Bitty up into his arms easily. "I'm a changed man. No more messes." He adjusted the jersey to keep Bitty most of the way decent and carried him up the stairs to the showers. He set Bitty down and took a knee beside him. "I'll be right back for you, I just gotta clean up the lounge."
Smiling, Bitty reached up with a weak, trembling hand to pat his cheek. "Atta boy." Johnson leaned in to kiss him and Bitty gave a happy hum. "Don't wake me up, okay? You can just use me while I'm asleep."
With a rueful half-smile, Johnson began, "Hey, you know, you don't have to-" Bitty's glare had him holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, got it, geez. I'll take what I want while you're sleeping, happy?"
"Yes, thank you," said Bitty.
Shaking his head, Johnson gave Bitty a last kiss and headed for the door, turning back to chirp, "You're a lot bossier than the average jizz sock, you know that?"
"Mm-hm." Bitty stretched and yawned, trying and failing to find a comfortable way to sit on the tiles. "One of those luxury features."
Chapter 6: Midnight Snack
It really shouldn't have taken long to tidy up downstairs. If Bitty could walk without holding up a wall, he'd be done already. But Johnson, like most Haus denizens, was an inveterate dawdler when it came to cleaning. Tired though he was, tragically abandoned though he was, Bitty knew that if he waited for his man to come fix him up and take care of him he was going to be waiting for an aggrevatingly long time.
Humming along to Independent Women under his breath, he scooted up to his knees and got to work cleaning up his own dang self. Bitty rinsed himself off carefully, then climbed gingerly to his feet. Oh, Lord, his legs were weak. Johnson really had tired him out.
After peeking out to make sure the coast was clear, Bitty flitted from shower stall to bathroom stall. He had to deal with this can and the hot, dirty sloshing Johnson had left inside him. Gingerly, Bitty felt around the edge of the can. He really was tender down there, and he was a little afraid trying to slide that can out was really going to hurt him. He gave it a ginger little wiggle and gasped at the sensation. It did hurt a little, but in a nice way, a physical reminder that he'd been letting Johnson play with him like a toy all day. And he's fixing to play with me all night too, Bitty thought, shivering as he started to slide it out of him. Somehow moving the can, even to pull it out, made him feel even fuller inside.
Whimpering, Bitty pulled the beer can steadily out of his body, insides squeezing and fluttering around it like it was a man he could pleasure. Oh, goodness, was his body going to squeeze Johnson like this when he had Bitty in his sleep, or would his muscles all just stay relaxed while Johnson had his way?
Bitty had expected, with some trepidation, that he'd have to push all Johnson's leavings out of him, but that turned out not to be necessary. As soon as the can popped free, he felt the whole mess running down his thighs, like he was too tired out and used up down there to hold it in at all. He bent over in front of the spray and pressed a couple fingers up himself to try to clean out anything that was left. It felt nice, right, having something in there, but his body couldn't seem to work up much of a reponse. He did drip a tiny bit when he pushed at a good spot, but that was all, and even that felt overwhelming.
He finished up his shower without playing with himself anymore, toweled off, and snuck across the hall into Johnson's room. Johnson, he could hear downstairs, still puttering around.
"That man, honestly," Bitty huffed. There was a mirror on the closet door and he moved to stand in front of it, turning, striking a pose, examining himself from all angles to decide if he should slip into Johnson's bed naked or wearing just his jersey. Jersey, he finally decided, but he'd ruck it up some so Johnson could see all the goods. Bitty crawled under the covers, pulled the jersey up around his armpits, and tousled his hair before laying down on his side. After the day he'd had, he was drifting off the second his head hit the pillow.
There was one time during the night Bitty woke up. For a second he didn't know what was happening to him, but even then it seemed like his body knew it was just what he was made for, staying limp and relaxed without his mind's input. A wet, sloppy thrust clued in him in to the what before the who, and it gave Bitty a deliciously filthy thrill that before he woke up enough to remember his first thought wasn't to be afraid or struggle, but ooh, he's so big.
Thinking about that made it hard not to squirm. Of course it was just Johnson, taking what he wanted like he said he would, but it could be anyone. Toys got shared, sometimes. The wet, sloppy thrusts and the stickiness on his face could be from all different men, taking turns with him during the night.
Johnson's thrust in him were hapahazardly aimed, lazy and careless in a way that reminded Bitty he wasn't even supposed to be awake for this. That he hadn't beem awake the last... however many times Johnson had felt like getting off. Less than twenty four hours after losing his virginity, if someone asked Bitty how many times he'd let a man put it in, he'd have to admit he didn't know.
It made him hot, but the way Johnson was using him wasn't going to get Bitty off for a long time. That was fine - tonight, he was just supposed to be somewhere warm to stick it, not even awake to please Johnson, let alone to get off himself. He kept his eyes closed and tried to be as limp and still as he could. Maybe he'd even fall asleep before Johnson finished, Bitty thought, but it didn't happen. Johnson filled him up some more and pulled out, leaving Bitty even wetter and sloppier than before.
Bitty expected that to be the end, but instead of just settling back in to sleep, Johnson was moving around on the other side of the bed. Then he moved back to Bitty's side and Bitty felt hard plastic nudge against him. It was smooth and rounded where it touched him, but Bitty couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. As it kept presseing, forcing him open wider than Johnson himself did, Bitty thought maybe it was spherical. Oh Lord, here he was alseep and Johnson was putting some thing inside him that Bitty didn't even know what it was.
He did know he was getting a wet patch where the blankets touched his crotch, because having something open him up wide like that felt so good. Suddenly, as the thing inside him got narrower, the squeeze of his own body pulled it inside. There was some kind of base on it, thank goodness, but the sensation had Bitty whimpering against the pillow, unable to help himself. The thickest part was pressing right where he was sensitive inside, and when Johnson gave the bottom a little tap, Bitty's whole body jerked like he'd been electrocuted.
"Shh, Bits," chirped Johnson, pulling Bitty in to spoon. "I'm trying to sleep."
With a huff against the pillow, Bitty closed his eyes and tried to sleep too. Every little movement sent a jolt of pleasure through him, but eventually he drifted off.
Johnson woke him with a kiss under the ear and a pat on the butt that left him squirming. The thing was still inside him, whatever it was, jarring against his sensitive spots and holding in what seemed like even more wet mess than before.
"What did you put in me?" Bitty asked sleepily.
Tapping the base of it, Johnson said, "Plastic snow globe." He tapped again and Bitty moaned and rocked his hips, stimulating himself more with just the motion. A plastic snow globe. "Now you won't have to worry about leaking jizz all day. I'll just keep you plugged up when I'm not using you, clean all the come out before bed. How does that sound?"
Bitty couldn't answer. He couldn't stop moving his hips either, though, so he hoped that would give Johnson the message. A big hand on his shoulder rolled him over to his belly, lifted his hips, and gripped the base of the snow globe.
"Morning wood," Johnson said, pulling. The globe stretched Bitty wider, wider. His fingers scrabbled on the sheets. "I'll just jerk off before I get ready for class." The snow globe popped out of him with an obscenely wet sound and Johnson set it on the bed where Bitty could see.
It was the size of a big orange or a small grapefruit and dripping wet. No wonder Johnson slid inside so easily.
"Mmm, that's nice, Bits. You feel so good on my cock, warm, wet, and easy, just right for a nice relaxing morning stroke." The depth of Johnson's thrusts still took Bitty's breath away, even with his body so open that his muscles barely fluttered around the girth of him. "All nice and stretched out for me." His hips pumped faster and Bitty shifted and arched until he found an angle that had him gasping at every thrust. "God, you'll take anything, won't you, Bits?"
Eyes locked on the white-streaked snow globe, Bitty swallowed hard and said, cheeks burning, "Did you go asking your sock questions like that, honey? About what you could put in it or who you could lend it to?"
Moaning, Johnson jackhammered into him. "Never. Fuck, Bits. Fuck." He emptied himself inside as Bitty whimpered in frustrated lust. He wasn't left frustrated for long. When Johnson pulled out and shoved the filthy snowglobe inside with one relentless thrust, Bitty wailed, spasming around it as he climaxed.
Kisses on the back of his neck brought him back to himself. "Mmm, Bits," sighed Johnson. "You're the best. What time is it?"
Bitty wriggled to the edge of the bed, thrillingly aware of every motion of the snow globe inside him, and retrieved his phone. "Nine twenty. Oh, Lord, I got class at eleven and I gotta get all the way back to my dorm and get dressed first."
He rolled gingerly out of bed and slipped into yesterday's shorts and Johnson's jersey. Arms wrapped around his waist from behind.
Johnson turned him around for a kiss. "I'll wash your panties. I gotta do laundry anyways."
"Thanks, hon," Bitty said, trying not to beam too hard. One day and he had Johnson offering to do chores. Maybe if I make myself nice and available in the kitchen later, I might could get some help washing the dishes.