Teen Wolf Stories

Daddylicious (Bottom Nolan / Top Brett)

Nolan was equally aroused and scared when he caught Brett staring at him again. It had happened more than once before, more than the few times where he'd been telling himself it had been coincidental. And for quite a while now, it had been more than just staring, Brett had clearly been checking him out, his gaze wandering up and down his figure over and over again while either sucking in his lower lip or letting his tongue graze over it.

It had been weird in the beginning, the feeling of having somebody's eyes on him constantly making him atypically self-conscious, but Brett would have stopped at some point if he hadn't liked what he'd seen, right? So Nolan had started this game where he would purposely avoid looking in Brett's direction, but always do something to draw his attention to and provoke a reaction, like baring the white skin on his neck where his pulse lay underneath, or licking his lips, or letting his shirt slip up just a tiny bit.

It had started as his way to make sure he wasn't just making this up, and also a little bit because he didn't know how to actually talk to Brett about anything other than lacrosse or how stupid school was. And it had worked. The more Nolan had offered, the more shamelessly Brett had drunk him in, and the more attention he'd got, the more confident Nolan had become. Simply as that, they'd spiraled themselves and each other to another level of desperation for touch.

They both knew it was going to happen eventually. They practically reeked of it, so everybody else probably knew it too, but Nolan was way too far gone for the gorgeous dark-blond boy to give a shit. Now they were in the same room again, and that alone was enough to get Nolan a little hard, even if he kind of dreaded the "it" that was going to happen.

He leaned back into the cushion on the couch next to Liam, pretending to be listening to half the lacrosse team discussing their latest game, looking nowhere, especially not at Brett at the opposite end of the room, but still catching everything that was going on over there in the corner of his eye.

Nolan let his head fall back onto the backrest, trying to look relaxed as his heart was racing, racing and then skipping a beat when Brett lifted his hand and touched his own adam's apple lightly, then closed his long fingers around his own throat. It almost felt like Nolan was the one being choked. His pants became painfully tight.

Brett shifted uncomfortably on the chair that he was sitting on, his long legs moving closer together as if to hide something at first, and then further apart as if to give it space a second later. Nolan could hardly contain a moan. He needed to know if Brett was as hard as he was by now. He needed to see it. He needed to look at him. It was dangerous, because what he would do if he truly saw the bulge he was expecting in Brett's middle, Nolan had no idea, but he couldn't help himself.

He looked. He looked right where Brett was holding his bottle of beer in front of his groin to hide something that was obviously way too big to be hidden. Nolan couldn't stop his mouth from falling open, which earned him a big fat smirk from Brett. Like what you see? the taller boy's look seemed to ask. This time, Nolan didn't avert his gaze as he usually would. He wasn't going to lie in this silent conversation. Yes.

Brett directed Nolan's eyes down to his crotch again by looking down there himself, and then he started moving his hand, gripping the bottle in it differently, placing its bottom on his muscular thigh and moving his fist around the bottleneck. Up and down, nice and slow. Meanwhile Nolan was dying from the impossibility of watching this and not jumping Brett right the second. His dick was screaming at him to be let out to play, to play like Brett was playing right now, looking straight into Nolan's face with the burning cheeks, watching the younger boy watch him.

Nolan swallowed hard. He didn't know which he needed more badly, to touch Brett the way he was implying with that stupid bottle, or being touched himself to finally release the pressure that was now threatening to bust the front of his pants in a room full of people. Brett didn't seem to be doing much better. His handsome face was contorted into a kind of pain that Nolan could understand too well: the sort that would have been pleasure rather than pain, if only something had given him a little satisfaction already.