The Feature

XIV

Sea foam eyes rolled beneath fluttering lids, a deep swallow, an intake of breath, as if he were preparing himself to speak. But it wasn't you that Ben was speaking to, because your mouth was already unreservedly occupied.

He was sat on the small couch, one arm outstretched along the back, the other holding a phone to his ear. "Mhm, yes that's what I was thinking," he said, his words calm and casual, deliberately controlled.

You looked up at him from your position on the floor, lips sliding back and forth over the length of his cock as you knelt between his parted legs. The corner of your mouth curled with a smirk as you watched his eyes close, his head falling against the back of the couch as he tried to concentrate on the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm completely sold," he said, struggling to keep his breath even.

You felt his hand against your cheek, his fingers brushing a stray hair out of your face as he allowed himself a quick glance down at you. You were giving him some of your best work; hollowed cheeks, swirling tongue, firm hands, all before you'd even said a word to each other.

An accidental groan slipped out of him and he tried to disguise it with a cough. "Hm? Oh, no I'm fine, sorry," he said. "Just had a tickle in my throat."

You wondered if maybe this was too cruel, if you had somehow transcended teasing and arrived right at the apex of sheer torture. But maybe he deserved it.

He'd been on the phone when you arrived, opening the hotel room door and holding a finger up at you before walking back inside without so much as a greeting. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and a pair of dark suit trousers, the accompanying blazer hanging over a chair near the window, the tie draped over the arm of the couch. You'd followed him inside expecting him to hang up the call, but when he left you standing there in the middle of the room, throwing himself down on the couch to continue his conversation, you found yourself with two options: take off your coat, sit down and wait quietly for him to acknowledge you, or take off your coat and remind him exactly why he'd invited you there in the first place.

He'd stared at you in complete confusion as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him, his mouth falling open as you began to unfasten his trousers, the realisation of what you were about to do suddenly dawning on him. By the time you slid him into your mouth he was already hard, eagerly welcoming the feeling with an eye roll and a silent sigh. But when it was finally his turn to speak again, he quickly sobered, realising just how difficult you were intending to make it for him.

It had only been a few minutes since then, but you could already feel him shifting his weight beneath you, growing restless, struggling to concentrate.

"I'd- Yeah, I'd be happy to," he said, the words tight and broken as they left him. "Would that be in person, or?"

You freed your hands from the base of his cock, gripping his thighs as you took all of him in your mouth, feeling it slide down the curve at the back of your throat. He bit down on the knuckle of his index finger to keep quiet, eyes falling on you with heavy lids as he watched you draw back, spluttering slightly as you caught your breath, a rope of saliva connecting your bottom lip to the head of his cock.

You stuck your tongue out to break the rope, maintaining eye contact with him and relishing the sight of his composure beginning to wane. You couldn't tell if you were going to be in deep trouble when he hung up the phone, or if you would be greatly rewarded for your service; somehow in that moment, both were equally as appealing. You dragged your tongue slowly up the length of him, teasing for a moment before resuming your work.

"That's good," he said, the words just as much for you as they were for the person on the phone. "So I take it that'd be in the new year?"

You felt his hand on the back of your head, attempting to guide your rhythm as he struggled to keep his hips still beneath you. He was dying to thrust into your mouth, to fuck your throat, you could tell in the way his fingers tightened in your hair, how his voice grew more hoarse like he was suppressing a growl.