Title: An Unconventional First
Warnings: Explicit sex, toys, light D/S
For thehayloft 's Noah Mayer comment!fic porn-athon.
indigo_5 's inspiring prompt: "household item as unconventional sex toy."
It’s not that he isn’t thankful for everything Luke’s done, but living at the farm is torture.
For the first time since he got there—it’s been months now—he’s alone, and it takes him all of a minute to come to that realization, sprint up the stairs, and take off all his clothes before getting on his bed. He hasn’t had the chance to jerk off without fear of getting walked in on in weeks. Half the doors in the house don’t lock, and in the mornings he’s rushing around the farm, doing barn chores, too busy for a leisurely session in the shower.
And it wouldn’t be bearable except that everywhere he turns, there’s Luke. Luke sitting at the table, helping Emma organize her bills. Luke next to him in the cold mornings, tending to the horses. Luke beside him in his truck on the way to OU. Luke outside his door every night, a chaste kiss before ducking into his own room.
It’s enough to drive a man crazy, those kisses before they lock each other away. He can’t stop wondering about what Luke’s doing behind the door at night. Does his hand slide down to his boxers, slip inside? Does he even wear boxers to bed? Does he write in a journal of the things he wishes they could do? Does he even want to do these things at all?
Well, that’s a dumb question. He knows Luke wants to as much as he does. He’s seen the expression in Luke’s eyes when they furtively make out on the couch in the parlor before someone walks in, the way Luke looks at him as he lowers his hips to Noah’s groin and grinds through the two pairs of jeans. The way Luke looks when Noah whimpers and pushes up against the contact. The way Luke looks when they break apart, trying not to pant, when they hear Emma’s footsteps… that look is the worst.
The look that says someday Luke won’t pull away at all.
Noah never wants Luke to pull away, but he doesn’t want to get kicked out of the house either. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, anymore. No dorm. No Da—No Colonel.
So today, when the house is empty, Noah knows to take the time he has and masturbate to his heart’s content. He pulls off all of his clothing, and folds it neatly before stacking it on the chair by the foot of the bed, and then he pushes down Emma’s quilt--don’t want to ruin that with stains, he thinks. And then he settles himself on top of the fresh sheets, spits into his palms, and aggressively handles himself.
Luke, naked, in his room at night, writing about the things he wants to do with Noah. Luke, his hands wandering down his chest, flicking at his nipples. Tracing his navel, a fingertip dipping inside. Luke, groaning, his hands continuing down toward his—
He should be coming by now. It shouldn’t take long at all, after all this build-up, and waiting forever, and thinking of Luke touching himself. But he’s hard, and working himself harder, and it’s not… not quite enough.
Do it. You know you want to, he hears Luke say. He sees Luke, his hands no longer skating down his sides, standing up, coming over to Noah, and he’s thick, erect. Looking at Noah here on his twin bed at the farm, and taunting him. Come on, Noah. There’s no use denying it. You know what you want. Luke’s laughing a little, and the whole thing feels mean, even when he knows in reality Luke would never act this way. Do it, Noah. Do it.
Noah’s hands drop from his cock, and he groans. He’s not going to come like this.
His right hand moves to the nightstand beside him, and finds the hairbrush.
The first time Noah wanted to do this was in high school. He’d been home alone, as he so often was, taking a shower before going to bed, and lazily stroking himself to a slow orgasm. He had the time to indulge. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, he thought. Just focused on the rising pleasure.
But then it got difficult. Like just touching his dick wasn’t going to do it, and that had never happened before. So he started thinking of Leslie Smith, who sat in beside him in American lit. Her hair was brown, and her eyes were green, and she was kind of mousy, actually, but she was a cheerleader, and that was what mattered here, at this school. At most schools, really. And she had enormous tits. Or so he was told. In truth, she didn’t look that big, but he didn’t look very often. The first week of school, she’d dropped something and bent to the side to grab it—a pen, a protractor, something—and he’s seen clear down the front of her v-neck sweater, as had everyone else. A bunch of the guys in the class had nodded at each other, grinning dopily, but then Morris Klein, her boyfriend, had glared around the room, and they’d all stopped.
And he wasn’t sure what had happened, but then he was thinking of Morris. His hair was sandy, and he was tall and muscular. On the track team, second-string football, but popular. His teeth… he had a thousand little perfectly white teeth, and he showed them all when he smiled.
He filled out his jeans really well.
And that’s when Noah had realized just how close he was, and where his hand had been drifting to, and it wasn’t his cock. And he stood straighter and turned the water from hot to cold, feeling his arousal swirl down the drain with the flow of the water, and when he was limp again, he stepped out of the shower and went to bed.
On the first day he’d moved in at the farm, he’d practically walked into Luke stepping out of the bathroom after a shower. There was a towel wrapped not at all firmly around his waist, hanging precariously off his hips, and he was soaked. His chest hair glistened with water droplets, and his hair was sticking up in a thousand directions, as though he’d had fun with the shampoo in the shower and hadn’t gotten all of it out.
He was beautiful, and Noah stared, not even realizing how much he was staring until he realized he was rising in his pajama pants and Luke was staring right back. And then they both said “Good-night!” in the same, high-pitched tone and rushed to their respective rooms.
And that first night, as he shut his door and then leaned back against it, shoving his hand down his pants and fondling himself, moaning softly, he saw the hairbrush on the nightstand across the room. Whoever had lived here last had left it, because Noah’s hair wasn’t long enough to need much more than a comb. But this was purple and the head was flat and oval, with soft, flexible bristles. He could cradle it in his palm easily enough…
And the handle was no more than five inches long, but plastic and rubber, and perfectly round. Maybe an inch and a half in diameter. It would feel so good, go so much further than your fingers, he heard himself say.
But then he’d came and he hadn’t had to. He didn’t want to, anyway. Did he? The next few times he’d been in the room and jerked off, he’d pointedly looked away from it, thought of his hand, and how it was probably just as good as being inside of Luke, and came quickly.
Today though, he needs more, and he turns tentatively onto his side before slipping a few fingers in his mouth, and then moving them down to his ass while sucking the hairbrush into his mouth. One finger hesitates at his entrance and he tenses, all of him nervous, and then it plunges forward.
Well. One finger wasn’t that bad. He shifts it around a little, feels the inside of himself. It’s barely like having anything inside of him at all. He rotates it slowly, and feels letdown. Was this what the build up was for? It wasn’t anything, really.
He brings a second finger to his hole and pushes, and bites down on the hairbrush. Okay. That… definitely felt like something. His ass is so tight, clamping down on the fingers so hard he can barely move them, but he tries anyway. Remembers watching porn, seeing fingers slide around and stretch the ring muscle wide. Two fingers scissoring so a tongue could slide between them. Two fingers, back and forth. Like a little walking man, he thinks, wincing a little as he loosens himself up. Back and forth, left to right, up and down, swirling around. It was easy. He can do this. It—
He gasps suddenly, muffled around the hairbrush handle, as a finger presses into something inside him. A nub of something. Like a thousand nerve-endings in one place.
He presses again and shudders hard, his whole body shaking. And again. And again.
Cautious, slow, the fingers come out. He pulls the hairbrush from his mouth and positions it at his hole, then takes a deep breath.
Pain. Oh, pain. It hurts as it inches—not even inching, just… centimetering--up his ass at a snail’s pace. Just keeps pushing it in, panting shallowly, as he feels himself stretch to accommodate, to take it in past where his fingers were. Slow, still creeping into him.
It’s when he feels the face of the brush meet his entrance, when he knows it’s all the way in, that he relaxes. It’s in. He’s done it.
Of course that’s the moment Luke walks in with a stack of shirts and freezes. Drops the shirts onto the floor, mostly staying in the neatly folded pile, but two toppling over, settling in positions to wrinkle.
Noah just stares at Luke, not sure of what to say. What he can say, to explain this. His cock is still hard, arching up toward his stomach, red and veiny. One hand is behind him, obviously working something inside himself, though he doesn’t think Luke can see what. What can Luke say? What can Noah say to fight the blush he already feels traveling up his chest, warming his neck, settling in his cheeks?
Luke licks his lips before he says, “I didn’t think you were home yet.”
And then he shuts the door behind him, and Noah involuntarily clenches around the handle.
Luke wanders to the side of the bed, tilting his head to see what Noah’s doing. He moves his hand towards the hair brush, and Noah lets his own hand fall away. Luke grips the head of it, his thumb digging into the pad with the bristles, and uses his other hand to spread Noah’s cheeks a little. Trying to get a better look.
“I think you took all of it,” Luke says matter-of-factly. Noah’s head is spinning. They’ve never done anything like this, at all. Luke hasn’t ever seen any of him. And now he is walking around like this is an everyday occurrence? In what world is this normal?
Oakdale, his mind supplies. And then Luke is talking again.
“Have you done this before?” he asks.
Noah can’t speak. Can’t even think of what to say. He just shakes his head.
“You ever wanted to?”
Noah stares for a long moment before he nods.
And then Luke starts to pull the handle out and Noah groans, grits out “No!” even as Luke keeps pulling.
It’s just about all of the way out when Luke stops, and looks at Noah like he’s never done before. It’s the same way he looks when he walks around the farm sometimes. Like he can’t believe he’s walking. And then Luke smiles and pushes the brush back in.
Noah pitches forward at the invasion, the slow crawl again, although this time it is one he can’t control. “Ungh,” he moans, feeling it slide up his canal. And then it is buried inside again.
“Roll onto your back,” Luke whispers, one hand firm on the brush, the other grasping a shoulder and gently moving Noah, carefully to keep his ass slightly raised. Before he lies down, Luke quickly pushes a pillow under Noah’s hips and then Noah is settled, his legs spread in a shallow V, his ass aching, and staring at Luke, who is flushed with excitement.
And then Luke starts to pull out the brush again, still slow but not as slow this time, and Noah is shaking with its movement… and then back in. Again, a little faster.
“How does it feel?” Luke asks. Concerned, but not too concerned. Like he knows what the answer will be.
“It’s weird,” Noah gasps. “In… inside me. Moving inside me.”
“No. Just… weird.”
Noah bites his lip.
“Good?” Luke asks, picking up the pace again. Innnnnnnnnnnnn. Ouuuuuuuut. Innnnnn—
“Yesssss,” Noah hisses, rocking onto it. The pressure back against his spot, his cock slapping against his stomach with each little thrust.
“Jerk off, Noah,” Luke says. Commands.
And Noah’s got a hand around his cock again, jacking rough and hard and fast and groaning now. Stroking himself quick, moving his hips with the hairbrush’s moments. Spreading his legs a little further to try and take it a little deeper, even knowing he can’t.
“You like getting fucked?” Luke pants, the handle in and out fast now. “You like fucking yourself?”
“Yes!” Noah cries, out of control. His hands touching himself everywhere and not enough.
Luke sucks on a few of his fingers, stops moving the handle, and Noah lets out a half-sob, clutching his ass around the fake dick in him, hoping Luke won’t take it out.
But Luke just gets between his legs and feels at his hole, still mostly slick, and pushes the wet fingers from his mouth in alongside the handle.
Noah shouts, bucks away, but Luke’s got his free hand on one of Noah’s hips and steadies him, working two fingers in along the handle, and Noah feels stuffed, like he’ll split in half. “Luke,” he whimpers.
“Shh,” Luke says. And inside him, Noah feels the fingers and then Luke’s thumb grab the handle and then thrust into him again from the inside.
It can’t go quite as far now, but the crook of Luke’s thumb is hard against his prostate, and he’s closer than ever, sliding back on Luke’s hand and the hairbrush, his body no longer his own. Moans spout from deep in his chest and don’t stop, his hands fly up and down his chest, grab at his nipples, play with his balls, slide up and down his cock. His hips rise up and down. His hole stretches and flutters around the intrusion, and inside his muscle is squeezing rhythmically around the handle.
“Oh god!” Noah moans, loud. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!”
And then he spurts thick all over himself, coating his hands, and his clenching abdominals. One stray shot, the first one, hits the underside of his chin when he arches.
Luke still pushes the handle in and out as Noah unravels, working the last of his come from his sore cock, and then Luke carefully pulls out the brush, sitting it beside Noah’s parted thighs.
When Noah finally manages to open his eyes, he’s looking directly at Luke’s crotch, his tight black jeans concealing nothing. The outline of Luke’s dick is prominent. Noah’s pretty sure he can even make out the head of his dick, threatening to tear the denim.
Luke’s hands are at the button, but he’s still slow. “Do you want to suck me off now?” Luke asks in a voice that implies Noah has very little control over his answer.
And to Noah’s surprise, he shivers and feels his mouth water. He swallows hastily, and nods.
Luke continues like he never even asked. “I think you want me to straddle your face and fuck your mouth. Fucking your face til I come down your throat. I think you want it bad.”
Noah can feel himself stir at that—
And then there is the clatter of doors slamming and kids rushing about. Emma and Meg can clearly be heard discussing something.
The sound of the refrigerator door opening and slamming shut again.
The house is alive again. Noah feels his face fall, and looks to Luke’s eyes.
Luke backs away from the bed, moves his hands to his pockets, and starts for the door.
“Okay, go take a shower. I’ll tell Grandma you were doing barn chores after classes and decided to clean up. I’m going to grab my stuff from my room and then head down.”
Noah finds his voice, finally. “Do you need—?” He nods toward Luke’s arousal.
Luke looks down at his hard-on and grins. “No, I’m going to take care of that real quick myself.” But then he sobers. “Tonight, after dinner. Tell grandma you have a film society event to go to and I have a litmag meeting and we’re going back to OU for a few hours.”
Noah pales. “But… the rules. And where—“
“Fuck the rules,” Luke says, crossing his arms. “We’re hitting Lover’s Lane. That’s not under Emma’s roof.”
“Oh… okay.” Noah doesn’t want to argue. And he kind of doesn’t care about the rules either.
Luke’s got a hand on the doorknob when he turns back to look at Noah one last time.
“Besides,” Luke smiles devilishly. “The first time I got to fuck you should have been with my cock, not Natalie’s hairbrush. We need to make things right.”
And then Luke ducks out.
Noah shakily gets up from the bed and grabs some clothes, puts a towel around his waist, and heads into the hall. He walks towards the bathroom and smiles as he shuts the door, hearing Luke shout his release from three rooms down.
- An Unconventional First (Luke/Noah, NC-17)