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Every time they do this, it feels like the worst decision Fernando has ever made in his life. It should be a difficult list to top, but somehow, they manage. Sometimes he thinks that bad decisions are all he’s good at anymore.
“Slower,” Fernando tells her, his lips straining around each syllable. It’s never been so hard to remember English as it is when he’s with Lance. “Stay still. Let me do it.”
Lance is on her elbows and knees in her hotel bed. Her bed, because if Fernando ever allowed her in his, he knows she’d never leave. She’s naked, her skin slicked with sweat despite the air conditioner set as low as it’ll go. Lance always runs hot.
Fernando’s cock has been in her mouth for what feels like an hour. It probably hasn’t been that long, because whenever they do this, Lance gets so worked up that she can’t help but get a hand between her clit and the mattress to make herself come with Fernando’s dick down her throat—she knows by now that Fernando won’t do it for her no matter how many times she asks—and so far, they have yet to reach that part of the evening.
“Slow,” Fernando says again as he strengthens his grip on her high ponytail, her thick, dark hair like a length of rope in his fist. He pulls her down, nice and steady, until she has no choice but to swallow around him, her nostrils flaring as the tip of her nose nudges against his pelvis.
Fernando likes it best when it’s like this, when he has her looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He knows what she wants, that if Lance got her way, he’d be fucking her through the mattress until she can’t walk. Or maybe riding him, using his cock to get herself off over and over until he can’t take anymore.
But she’s young, still, and she needs to learn self-control. She’s too clingy, too needy, wants everything all the time. She doesn’t know how to appreciate the things she has that’ll one day be gone.
“Good,” Fernando says encouragingly as Lance finally relaxes under his hands. He slowly draws his cock back out, letting her take a breath, staring at the potent mix of precome and saliva dripping from her mouth, keeping her tethered to his cock as she gasps for air. “Again.”
He’s rougher this time, fucking her face, her throat until she gags, until there’s spit pouring out of her mouth onto the duvet. She takes it. She takes all of it, everything he has to give her, and Fernando has to force himself to slow down again when she stares up at him with watery brown eyes, lashes clumping together with the beginnings of tears.
Fernando wants to touch her, wants to slap her ass, flip her onto her back so he can mouth at her breasts. He wants to come in her pussy, again and again and again. Lance makes him feral, like he could lose his mind. She isn’t the only one who needs discipline, a firm hand.
Like this, they’re on the knife’s edge. Fernando has a duty to them both to keep them from falling off.
He pulls back again. Lance sucks in a sharp breath and reaches up with one hand to grab for his cock. Fernando quickly swats it away.
Lance’s eyes go dark. “I want to make you come,” she tells him, practically throwing a tantrum about it already, though that’s usually the sort of thing that precedes these meetings, rather than occurring during the main event.
“No,” Fernando says simply before fucking back into her mouth again. That’s another advantage of doing it this way. Less talking.
If Fernando was more honest with her—himself, too—they wouldn’t do this at all. There are only two viable paths to choose from: he could quit, and get on his knees for Lance instead; or he could quit, and cut ties with her altogether.
Fernando has, stupidly, chosen to stay.
Lance stares up at him balefully as he slowly slides into the back of her throat again. He’d asked her once what his come tasted like. She’s fascinated by it, delighted even. Never stops talking about how much she loves that he gets so wet for her, that she can taste it as soon as he’s inside her mouth. She swallows every time, his cock so deep inside her that Fernando sometimes wraps a hand around her neck just to feel the slight swell of himself in her throat.
He wants to taste her just as badly, but he’ll never tell.
Fernando thinks about denying her again when he feels himself getting close. Maybe for the fourth time, or the fifth. It’s easy to lose count.
He fucks her even harder instead, his free hand coming up to cradle her cheek, her jaw as he uses her. She struggles to stay upright as she wriggles a hand under herself, the way he’s come to expect. Her tits bounce with every thrust, hard, dark nipples dragging against the mattress.
She’s so beautiful, Fernando thinks, and then he pulls almost all the way out so he can come with just the head of his cock pressed against her tongue.
They stay there like that for a long moment, and then finally, Fernando pulls out. Lance doesn’t say anything when he drops down onto his knees with a pained grunt so he can kiss her. It’s only when she shoves her tongue into his mouth that he realizes why, the sharp brine of his come still thick like batter when she gives it back to him.
It doesn’t feel spiteful, though Fernando thinks that it probably should. If Lance were smarter about all this, maybe it would be. If she were better at playing games.
Lance’s face is radiant when he opens his eyes, their mouths disconnecting with a wet smack. Fernando swallows himself down and sees her see it, watches her smile.
It’s too genuine. He wants to look away. He doesn’t.
He should ask her if she came. He should make her come. He doesn’t.
“When are you gonna fuck me?” Lance asks with a faux pout that doesn’t fully engulf her wry smile. She flops over onto her back and starfishes out on the bed, letting out a wistful sigh before letting her hands drift back down between her thighs. She’s almost absent-minded about it. Not teasing, at all. “Like, actually fuck me?” she wonders.
Never , Fernando thinks to himself. He has to draw a line somewhere.