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A Master feasts with His new slave.

He slowly drew his slick fingers to his lips, coating the surface like chapstick. Slipping his tongue out, he tasted Matt, all the while looking up to see a fixed gaze staring down on him. Matt could feel his body clench with Oliver just inches away, but the boy simply wasn't moving fast enough.

Matt growled out, "I swear to God, Ollie if you don't-"

But Matt never got to finish that sentence. Oliver had been drawing out his act, waiting for Matt to break. The boy had a tendency to get so bound up in himself that he loved when Matt threw caution to the wind and vocalized everything he wanted. At that moment, he sunk down on the boy's cock nearly taking it entirely. Two measly inches kept the distance between his pouted lips and the boy's nearly trimmed bush. He could smell sex on his boy's skin- the way guys their age douse their bodies in cheap cologne.

The growl in Matt's voice turned to that of a high pitched whimper. It was comical how quickly Ollie's mouth could turn that boy from domineering to needy. But there Matt was, holding onto Oliver's shoulders- the only support that kept him from falling face first on the vinyl tile before him. Oliver sucked on the boy's cock with determination, hell bent on making Matt cum so hard, they could hear his moans across the campus.

As time progressed, the two boys became nothing but a series of motions: from the rummaging of Matt's antsy fingers through the other boy's silken hair, to the long movements of Oliver's mouth as he continually pushed Matt's cock down his throat. The boys didn't even speak- apart from the slurping sounds and moans alike. Matt was sure he blanked out a few times- the only thing that kept him from cumming whenever he felt the back of Oliver's throat massaging his head. Each time, he could hear the rustling of footsteps just outside along with the feint ticks of the old fashioned clock just above their heads. Their time was limited. Oliver has become quite the cocksucker since he first started weeks ago. By now, his mouth had memorized Matt's overgrown cock and the two continued a long a drawn out dance that would soon come to an end.

Matt knew he was on borrowed time as he slid his fingers down, anchoring them on Oliver's jaw. The boy looked up, not breaking his movements as he bobbed his head back and forth. He had been the object of his affection for years and he still felt the need to pinch himself every time Ollie reciprocated. But between the confidence he had given him and the safety he now secured himself with, there was no denying how much he meant to him. Matt was soon brought back to reality as he felt the gentle tug on his balls. He forced himself not to look down, instead channeling the pressure of Oliver's fingers as they kneaded his balls, as if getting them warmed up for the end. Matt pressed into the chalkboard, cupping Ollie's head in his hands and grazing his finger along the boy's temple.

The build up was always his favorite part. It was those few moments when he could feel the orgasm surging through him, ready to explode at any moment; the feeling of his balls so worked up that the slightest uncalculated touch could have them emptying themselves in seconds. That moment was something Matt tried to hold onto for as long as he could, but Oliver's expert tongue wasn't helping the situation. After a long and strained moan, he looked down to find Oliver staring straight at him: eyes full of lust and the makings of a smile that formed at the corners of his full mouth. Big mistake, Stevens.
The sight of his lover was enough to send him over the edge.

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