Club - a Breddy Fanfic.

87) Spot (NSFW)

As soon as their line of vision is broken, Brett snaps out of the erotic zone he was in and everything turns dark very, very quickly. Within a second he can't see a thing anymore and a wave of panic overtakes him. He shakes his head desperately to get rid of the darkness, to get back to where he was but to no avail; soft, blond strands of curls emerge like Cthulhu's tentacles from the depths of the abyss that is his mind and his breath speeds up in terror. He shakes his head again fiercely. He wants to scream in fear, but he is stricken mute. The voiceless scream turns to pleas, only audible in his head, repeating over and over again: Please, oh please, not now. Leave her out of this. He tastes a saltiness alien to him at first, but realizes then he's tasting his own tears. Oh please, let me go! He only manages to blink rapidly, but he's helpless: the tears keep on streaming down his cheeks.
Within the despair he feels he tries desperately to focus on the one person that can get him out. Eddy! Save me! He wants to warn him but although he tries he can't move a limb, he can't see, and his voice doesn't work.
At that moment a strange pressure on his butt startles him. A searching finger slides through the crack between the cheeks. The sensation holds his spiraling thoughts. Small holes appear in the darkness where the finger traces its path, like it's actually a hole puncher, and small rays of light stream in, bringing some relief between all the black. When the finger finds the right spot, it stops and quickly is pressed inside him, ripping a large tear in the dark along with it. The light that comes through it is as bright as the light from a lighthouse. Finally! Brett can see through the rip and deep brown eyes emerge that are his buoys within the fog that is his brain. "Wha?!"

"Look only at me. You're mine." Eddy says calmly but decisively, without explaining or apologizing for his finger that is now inside him. Brett blinks rapidly to get the fog away, which miraculously works more and more with every flutter of his lashes. Now he can see Eddy, he can really feel what he's doing. Without losing eye contact, Eddy moves, not only mouth, which feels exquisite, but finger as well, which feels not really painful, but just... weird? That is until Eddy hooks it and finds his prostate. When he presses against it the dark scatters into a million pieces, leaving only light in its place. Brett snaps into his body again, his vision clear once more.

"OH!" For a moment Brett forgets to breathe.

Eddy hasn't stopped watching him. "Good?" he asks cautiously while he pushes in and hits that spot, that gorgeous spot, again.

"OH, my fucking God," Brett swears, his hands in Eddy's hair, enveloping the back of his head, gripping the base hard to get grip on reality.

"Good?" Eddy asks again.

"Yes." Brett hisses, "How-"

"It's the same you did for me. I'm simply returning the favor." Eddy mumbles and works him again.

Brett has never experienced something like this before and it's ascending him to the next plane, transporting him higher and higher quickly. Through the dopamine haze, his vision only consist now of merely a pair of brown eyes on fire, and it's life itself.
"Fuck. I'm-" Brett tries to hold back.

"You want to come like this?" Eddy asks softly.

Oh, yes, definitely. But his words are gone, blown out into open space. Thank God Eddy gets it and chuckles deviously. He sucks hard and hooks once, twice and at the next time Brett explodes like he has never done before and comes and comes until he's a shivering mess, barely to keep himself upright. But who is he kidding anyway, and he is not even surprised when his legs do give way and he slides to the ground, ending on Eddy's lap. He slumps into the extended arms that welcome him, all sweaty, his head on Eddy's shoulder, and is enveloped into a comforting hug.
Eddy presses a sticky kiss in Brett's neck and strokes his hair, damp and sticking out to all sides in a very unruly manner.
"Hmm? That good for you, my love?" Eddy ask with the sweetest voice imaginable.

Brett is quite sure he used to know quite a lot of words, in more than one language, but he can't seem to recall any of them. With a feat of Herculean strength he manages only one. "Uh-huh."

Eddy chuckles. He gently pushes Brett off his lap, stands up and bodily lifts him to the bed. There Brett lays, boneless and wrecked, breathing heavily still. The mattress shifts, and Eddy nuzzles his face into the hollow of Brett's throat. Brett makes a vague noise of approval, tries to get his arms around Eddy's waist, but he's helpless to do much else. Slowly the dopamine cloud clears and what remains is utter satisfaction and the love he has for the man in his arms. He's so grateful. Grateful for this patient man who is stroking him so tenderly now. This man who can pick him up out of hell and transport him to the heavens within seconds, like he is Constatine himself. Brett knows it to his bones: Eddy has the dexterity to find a way to get him whole again. This man, his boyfriend.