It’s like the four weeks until Jay and Darren meet again stretch into eternity. Jay tries to make time go faster, he loads his evenings full with activity, goes running three times a week, meets with his downstairs neighbor for board games and spends his weekends drinking and dancing until his mind is numb with alcohol and physical exhaustion. But it’s not enough. Every minute he isn’t focused on a task, every pause in a conversation, every single time he comes back from running, sweaty and panting, and takes his headphones off, the mental images come rushing back. It’s like he’s there, he can imagine the sounds, the smell, the colors, in all detail: Darren next to him on the couch, his deep, vibrating voice guiding Jay, ordering him to reign himself in, to hold back. Calm, strong words, and the hitch in the back of Darren’s throat, the desperation breaking to the surface as he tries to bring himself closer, agonizingly slowly. Jay’s cock throbbing, the desire unbearable, ravaging, a need he hasn’t known before, almost can’t bear. And then Darren as he’s chasing orgasm, his breathless moans, jumpy movements, clothes rustling and Darren’s left hand slapping onto the couch, uncontrollable. The knowledge of Darren coming next to Jay with a suppressed grunt, while his eyes are on Jay’s steady hand and his cock, watching.
Needless to say, Jay starts to be reminded of the times when he was a teenager, with how often he disappears to a restroom to get himself off, just with spit as lubricant and the memory of Darren orgasming to fuel his wild imagination. The constant boner starts grating at his nerves, he hasn’t had to handle anything like that ever, or so he thinks, not even in the midst of the throes of puberty.
A few times Jay thinks of calling Darren. Darren had called him when he needed it, Jay could do the same. Theoretically. If he knew how to begin a conversation like that. And then, on one of those evenings that Jay finds himself without occupation and starts counting the days, he considers asking Darren to come over more frequently. They could meet every second week, it would maybe relax things a little for Jay. But from experience with texting Darren Jay knows that Darren’s days are busy already, his work more demanding than Jay’s, his social life crowded with obligations to colleagues and family.
And then, two weeks into the torturous wait, it’s Chris’ birthday. Chris texts Jay on short notice, inviting him over for drinks and pizza and of course Jay accepts the invitation, glad for the distraction. He doesn’t really think, he has no expectations for this evening except for weed and something warm and edible in his belly when he steps over the threshold to Chris’ shared apartment, handing over the bottle of gin he brought as a present. He didn’t think his torment could get any worse but then—
Broad shoulders slumping back against the support of the wheelchair, a strong underarm on a black armrest, quivering, the other arm lifting slightly from a lap before falling back down, fingers twitching.
Of course Chris invited Darren. A few other colleagues, his flat mates. And Darren. Jay would’ve figured that out if he had given himself time to think, but that’s exactly what he forbid himself to do for the past two weeks.
“Uh… hi.” Jay waves into the round, blushing when his eyes meet Darren’s who nods his head, eyes dark and impenetrable.
“There’s a seat over there,” Chris appears in Jay’s back carrying a fresh tray of pizza and pointing to an empty chair right next to Darren. “Make space guys.” Chris ushers Jay further into the dining room.
Jay briefly wonders if Chris always had an oven and how it come that he can cook all of a sudden, but then he sits down on the designated seat and just when he does Darren’s leg bounces, knocking against the table from below, provoking a few shouts and people rescuing their drinks. “Sorry,” Darren growls and Chris swaps his empty beer bottle which almost rolled off the table with a full one, squeezing Darren’s left arm. “Don’t worry about it, mate.” Jay gets a bottle and a plate from somewhere, too.
And so Jay finds himself sitting at a crowded table in Chris’ dining room, his knee almost touching the side of Darren’s powerchair which is swaying from time to time whenever Darren’s legs kick out.
And it’s absolute torture.
As the evening goes on, Darren is friendly, even charming, joining the fast-paced conversation a few times. It’s more than he usually does, especially in larger groups, it forces everyone to wait the extra time that it takes him to finish speaking even though he keeps his sentences short. He eats pizza with his left hand, picking up the pieces with stiff fingers and leaning over the table to take bites, preventing the topping from dropping onto his shirt. As a cautionary action, Jay assumes, Darren has placed a kitchen towel on his lap, his right hand sort of keeps it in place, fingers twitching around the fabric, sending little thrills up Jay’s spine.
In a last attempt to save himself, Jay tries to drown his primal needs in alcohol, emptying two bottles of beer shortly after each other with gin in the mix, trying not to watch Darren out of the corners of his eyes. But it isn’t working. Soon, Jay’s face is glowing, he’s starting to sweat but he can still feel Darren’s legs trembling slightly on the footrests, sending little thrums through the wheelchair to the floor. When Darren asks him to pass over the paper towels, and cleans his hand with slow, concentrated movements, bunching up the paper in his fist just like he does when he’s cleaning himself after coming, Jay can’t take it anymore and pushes off his seat to stumble out into the corridor.
“Fuuck…” Jay rubs his face and leans against the wall, breathing through his nose. He knows he could just call it a night, leave early, to escape the torture but… But. He wants to be with Darren, even if it’s just sitting at his side, sneaking glances over, listening to him talk. Jay just doesn’t know if he’ll survive it.
“Restroom is occupied, huh?”
Jay whirls around. He hasn’t noticed Darren’s wheelchair whirring around the corner. Darren seems oddly calm as he steers the chair closer, until Jay bumps into a closed door as he quickly moves back to make space, the handle poking into his back uncomfortably.
“Uh… what?” Does Darren need the restroom? But then again, Chris’ restroom is probably as accessible as Jay’s, which is not at all.
Darren’s eyes twinkle and there is a quick smile in his face before it’s washed away by spasms.
“Right, yeah… Yes, it’s occupied.” Jay gesticulates down the corridor to where the restroom is and then shrugs. “I’m waiting…” He rubs the flat of his hands over his jeans, then puts his hands behind his back to stop himself.
“Ah huh…” Darren’s gaze is somewhat not up in Jay’s face but directed further down and it’s with a few seconds of delay that Jay understands why.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
His raging hard-on isn’t to be missed even in the dim light of the corridor.
What happened to puberty being long over?
Darren chuckles, his eyes not moving away an inch. “What can we do about that?” he asks suddenly, his head cocked a little.
“Uh…” Again, so very articulate. Jay feels sweat run down his back and he puts his hands against the doorjamb because he’s suddenly a little dizzy, swaying slightly. The alcohol or…
Darren leans forward, for a second Jay isn’t sure if he’s about to hug him or experiences vertigo himself, but then Darren knocks his left hand into the door handle behind Jay and the door springs open. Jay more or less falls into the room behind the door, his eyes wide in the darkness.
“Geez, Darren, what—”
“Hush…” Darren’s wheelchair is a massive black mass obstructing the path to the corridor and the hairs on Jay’s neck prickle as he realized he can’t just leave easily.
“Where are we?” Jay whispers, feeling around until he finds something, a table, papers strewn on top of it and there are the blinking lights of the stand-by mode of large computer screens as his eyes adjust. He spots a desk lamp sitting in the far corner of the desk and turns it on.
They are in Chris’ office, as it seems on first glance. Jay wasn’t even aware that Chris was working from home frequently. Well, judging from the number of empty or half-empty bags of weed and the general chaos it couldn’t be very productive.
“Darren, we should—”
“Sit on the desk.” Darren has closed the door and the wheelchair turns around again slowly, leaving little marks of depression on the carpet.
“W-what?” Jay blinks his eyes at Darren, his heartbeat accelerating.
“We’ve got something to take care of,” Darren growls and Jay is already with his back against the table as a footrest knocks into his shin. Darren’s legs quiver angrily and Jay sits down heavily before he can think about it.
“Hmm…” A large hand settles on Jay’s right thigh, fingers twitching slightly. Jay swallows and feels his heart flutter rapidly against his chest, his breath catching as Darren’s hand moves slowly up.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been… on edge this afternoon,” Darren murmurs, his voice rumbling slightly in the back of his throat. Jay is feeling hot and light all over, his knees starting to tremble a little.
“Ah… uh. I d-don’t—” Jay stops talking, biting on his lips as Darren’s hand clenches into his thigh upon a spasm. Jay’s breath is coming fast now, his vision getting blurry.
Darren smiles crookedly and chuckles. “Look at you…” His right arm is starting to act out, clamped to his chest, the muscles trembling. “You’ve been… so aroused, I could practically smell it,” Darren continues nonetheless and Jay squeaks as Darren’s slightly twitching hand reaches Jay’s crotch, one thumb sliding over Jay’s cock that’s straining against the confinement.
“Darren!” Jay whines and bucks his hips involuntarily, something is telling him to stop but his body has its own mind. He wants Darren to grab him, get Jay off with his imprecise, jerking movements, his fingers grabbing a little too tight, a little too forceful. Jay knows he’d love it.
“Get it out.”
Jay complies within a heartbeat, opens the buttons on his jeans with trembling fingers and pulls the zipper down. Of course Darren couldn’t do that, he had almost forgotten about it. Jay pulls himself out without a second to think about the weirdness of the moment, so desperate is he to find relief, his cock thick and swollen, leaking at the tip.
“Darren, please…” Jay is begging, for what he doesn’t know, first of all for Darren to touch him again. But the other has sunken back in the wheelchair, grimacing a little. He is in pain, Jay dimly realizes, probably from the unusual position leaning forward without support of his back.
“Get yourself there, you know how to,” Darren grunts, his eyes hooded, legs jumping uncontrollable. He has moved the wheelchair back a little, to get them out of reach of Jay or the desk. His brows are back to furrowed, face dark, but his eyes are gleaming with something, eager. “I’d like to see you.”
Jay wants to protest, demand Darren’s touch, but he does what Darren says. There’s no finesse in it, no slow built as they’ve done last time, it’s all hurried, desperate efficiency and soon Jay is close, panting quick and flatly, his eyes half-closed.
Jay flinches and whimpers, he’s so close, he’s about to come on the drop of a hairpin, but still he releases himself. The wheelchair hums a little, Jay has his eyes closed to regain some ounce of control over himself, and it catches him by full surprise when Darren speaks again, much closer than before.
“This isn’t working.”
Darren has slipped forward a little in the seat, he’s swaying but still seated, left hand braced on the table, knuckles clenching white around the edge. There’s sweat on his face and deep lines on his forehead from concentration, his pupils wide. “You need to sit on some of these…” Darren impatiently gestures with his head to a couple of books on the desk, hidden under a few wrappings and other trash. “Please.”
“Oh… okay?” Jay doesn’t try to get behind Darren’s meaning, he grabs a few books and stuffs them under his butt, pushing himself up to a new height in front of Darren. Everything if only this goes on.
“Excellent,” Darren finally says and Jay stares as he moves his upper body forward and down, slowly, and it dawns on Jay what he is doing only split seconds before it actually happens. Nothing could have prepared him though for the feeling of Darren’s breath on his pulsing cock, the sweetness of his lips as they settle around his head, or the surge of adrenaline as Darren swallows him whole.
“Darren!” Jay doesn’t manage to warn Darren in any other way before stars explode behind his eyelids. He was already as good as over the edge before, and the flutter of Darren’s tongue against his length is more than enough. Jay comes in massive spurts, his hands flying to Darren’s head as on impulse, fingers burying into the soft, slightly curly mass of hair, not holding Darren, more anchoring himself. His back arches and he whimpers and moans as he empties himself down Darren’s throat, who swallows it all, his back twitching a little and legs trembling against Jay’s from the strain.
“Oh fuck…” Jay pants, quick, rough gasps of breath, his heart galloping still in his chest as he comes down. “Oh holy…” His cock is glistening with Darren’s saliva and come as Darren pushes back to rest against the wheelchair’s back, his eyes smiling cheekily, but his mouth twitching with spasms.
Jay can’t say anything, though, he lacks the air for it, but he can see that Darren understands. The wheelchair turns and the big guy has left the room before Jay finds his breath. He waits for many more minutes before finally tucking his deflated cock back in and zipping himself up. And then a couple of extra minutes until he hopes his cheeks aren’t as flushed anymore. The others will account the remaining blush to the alcohol, if they notice anything at all. Did Jay scream during orgasm? Did he moan? He doesn’t know but he sure hopes he didn’t.
Jay inhales deeply on his way back to the kitchen, trying to empty his mind and force down the stupid smile, then grimaces a little when he hears Darren’s hoarse laughter from behind the half-closed door to the dining room. That was, without doubt, the best blow-job of his life. Only problem is, he’s still horny.