Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Blood and Chocolate	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 15 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Based on my own predilections or not, this is still a work of fiction. by the way, you will get hungry reading this. Just, just just trust me on this.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Alex lay himself down on my couch with his pants unbuttoned and one hand up on his forehead. He had such a blissful look upon his face, complete with a big euphoric smile and his eyes closed. His dark eyebrows raised up which in turn softened his whole face: a delicate, soft blush bloomed over his face as if he had been touched up with a little bit of pink, like a little rose in bloom under a veil of soft misty rainwater.
I ran my fingers through my hair, and I watched him there. He set another hand on his stomach, and he rolled his head over the top of the pillow: that blissful, soft look on his face, the way that his lips carried such a bright red tone from all the eating and from the milkshake.
My eyes wandered down to his waist, to the open button on his jeans. I nibbled on my bottom lip at the sight of that soft skin there.
I clasped my hand to the side of my face, and I bowed away from the sight before me.
A voice in my head told me that I had fucked up. I had done something terrible. I had stuffed this boy silly and now, he could barely stand up from the couch. I buried my face in my hands, and I sighed through my nose. My stomach turned at the thought of it all.
I was full myself, but my stomach still turned. I bowed my head, and I strode over to the wall next to my fridge. I leaned back against the wall, and I closed my eyes.
So guilty. I felt too guilty when I thought about it. I couldn’t believe that I had done that.
I couldn’t stop smelling the food in there in the kitchen. It stayed with me. It haunted me like a ghost; it tormented me. I swore that I could not make my way in there again, or even so much as make my way past him to go to the bathroom or my bedroom.
I couldn’t go past him.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t resist the feeling within me. I needed to gain a little bit of relief for myself.
A little relief for myself as well as give him a little something more. His belly that full and the look on his face: I had absolutely no choice whatsoever.
The relief with the feeling of euphoria. I wanted to feel better, to feel more like myself, more like how I feel like whenever I had something to eat as well.
I hated feeling guilty. I wanted that euphoria for myself.
I had no sex toys, but I did have my own hand, however. To feel myself and to feel anything other than guilt or shame.
I kept my back up against the wall, all the while. I kept my gaze fixed on the table beyond the counter’s edge, right on the back of the chair where he had sat in before then. I pictured him there once again, and once again with his back pressed up against the back of the chair. Those black curls sprawled over his shoulders and his collar bones onto his chest: that tiny gray sliver over the right side of his brow like a crown jewel of sorts. A prince. My spoilt prince with his tummy full and his body soft.
My spoilt prince with his tummy full, his body soft, and his body ready.
My body was ready as well.
I closed my eyes, and I brought my hand down the front of my pants.
My fingers crept over my own skin, and the side of my arm against my own stomach as well as the side of my chest.
It did a little something, especially when I brought my fingers down to the tip. I slipped my index fingertip into the hole, even though I had tucked myself in with such comfort. My fingertip up inside of the hole, and I nibbled on my bottom lip. It tickled me so much and so deeply, such that I turned my back on the guilt ever so slightly.
Ever so slightly, such that I still had it in my mirror. I kept my eye on the mirror’s reflection, and I could see the guilt there, right over my shoulder and at the back of my car.
The back of my trunk, and I could feel myself growing a bit more at the back of my seat. I brought my other hand to the back of my pants for a touch of my own ass.
I pressed the back of my head against the wall as I fondled myself, one hand down my pants and my other hand on the seat of my pants. One hand on skin, one hand on rough denim.
I opened my lips and I let out a quiet sigh.
I had no idea if that could in fact help me, but I knew that did something to me, though. I let go of myself and I made my way out of the kitchen. Alex still lay there on the couch, except that time around he had rolled over a little bit onto his hip and his side: he had this gorgeous curve to his body, such that it sent a shiver up my spine.
That had to be it. That had to be my moment right then and there.
I made my way over to him and he looked up at me: his eyes squinted a bit, and he showed me a sweet little smile.
“Hey,” I greeted him.
“Hey,” he echoed me.
“Hi,” I continued.
“Hi... mmm...” He brought his hand down to his eyes, but he kept his smile plastered across his face.
Guilt could leave me alone. I wanted all the more pleasure. And I knew that he wanted pleasure as well.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips onto his: he was warm and soft, and he tasted of milkshake. I ran my fingers down his chest and his stomach. He felt so warm.
I pushed his shirt off his stomach all the way, and I pressed my lips onto his skin. The mere feeling of his skin upon my lips sent me into a spiral. The more I kissed him on the belly, the more I wanted to kiss him there. I pressed my fingers onto his hipbones to sort of pin him down.
“Hold still,” I beckoned him.
“I won’t move, don’t you worry,” he assured me with a soft huskiness to his voice. My lips on his skin underneath his belly button, atop his happy trail. I could feel myself rising at the mere sensation of my lips on his hair and his skin. I wanted to take off my pants right then and there, but I had no idea if he was in the mood for it, however.
“Hold still,” I repeated.
“I am,” he groaned out.
“Hold still!”
“It just feels so good, though!”
I gave his belly a slightly harder pat to inflict a little bit of pain onto him, such that he gasped.
“Ouch.”
“Oh, c’mon, that didn’t hurt,” I teased him.
“When I'm stuffed full like a potbelly pig at Christmas, it definitely hurt,” he scoffed at me.
I reached down and I peeled off my pants. I was guilty but I loved the feeling of his body, though. My lips on his belly, especially right on the rim of his navel.
“It’s such a sexy feeling,” he told me, and he treated me to a soft groan from the back of his throat.
I wanted a little something more about this, especially when I realized where I was kissing him. I brought my lips to the spot under his belly button, and I knew that felt good to him: if it felt good for me, it had to feel good for him.
I nudged his pants out of the way for a gentle kiss on that extra soft bit of skin. So soft: it felt like kissing silk.
I gave him the gentlest kiss yet, such that I barely touched him there. He gave me another groan, the softest one yet as well.
I kissed him with a bit more force and I included the front sides of my teeth as well, as if to warn him that I wanted a little more there.
Another kiss on his lower belly and then I followed it up with a slight grinding of my teeth on his skin. He gasped at the feeling and then he followed it up with a long, low moan from the back of his throat. I knew that was good. I gave him another kiss and followed that up with another grind of my teeth: I was ever so gentle on him as I didn’t want to hurt him, and especially on such a delicate and tender area of his body and when he had such a heavy, blissful feeling in his stomach to boot. I traded in between gentle kisses and soft little grinds of my teeth until I left a little dark red spot on his skin about the size of my pinky nail.
And I knew he was ready at that point.
I lifted myself off him just enough to pull down his pants all the way. He was exposed to me.
I gave his skin a soft touch with my fingertips to get him started. Just like the kitchen, I ran the tip of my index finger around the rim of the hole to tickle him a bit. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with the back of his hand, as if he didn’t want to look into my eyes for whatever reason.
But I wanted him to look. I wanted to look and see what I was doing for him. Or rather, what I was doing for myself as I wanted to overcome the guilt of what I had done to him.
The only way to break through the guilt was to make things right with the two of us. On both of our ends.
And while I had my fingers on his dick and my other finger following the rim of the hole on the head there, I started to wonder as to why I felt so guilty in the first place.
The blush on his face and the euphoric little smile that accompanied it told me that he was enjoying every last part of it, including the touches I was giving him. I started to question my own reluctance to do it all.
And yet, I could feel something there with him. He was hiding something from me. Somewhere, behind those deep-set blue eyes, was a boy who awaited the utmost pleasure he could ever dream of before, and I was willing to give it to him.
I licked my lips, and I brought my mouth down to the head. He tasted clean, sweet even, as if he had taken the best care of himself prior to showing up there at my place. I moved in closer so more of his dick was inside my mouth.
I moved back like I would licking a popsicle, and then I moved in close once again.
I was no master of the deepthroat, and in fact, that was the first time I ever gave another man a blowjob, but somehow, I managed to reach his actual body. And that was when he took his hand off his face to look down at me.
“Oh. Dessert.”
“Banana split, baby—” I groaned out to him, and I put my lips around his erection once more for a second swipe at the deepthroat.
I lifted my mouth off him, and I gazed into his eyes. No way out now.
“I want you to fuck me silly,” I begged him in a near whisper.
“I can’t,” he confessed with a shake of his head. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I'm too full. I want all the belly kisses, though.”
“What about touches?” I offered him, and I ran my fingers along the extra soft part of his waist, between his belly button and his hipbone once again. And that was when that clear liquid came out of the tip, right in front of my face.
“Does that tickle?” I teased him.
“Like a bastard,” he groaned out in a broken voice.
“What about this?” I brought my mouth back to his dick for another round of blowing. That time around, I could feel him coming into my mouth. I nearly gagged on it, but I managed to do it. I managed to make him come to me. And in the process, I made myself come: when I moved my legs, I felt that damp spot there.
I wanted to keep this a secret. In fact, I told him that right then and there.
“I want this to be our secret, too,” he confessed to me in a near whisper.
I flashed him a wink.
“Piece of cake, big boy,” I assured him. “Speaking of cake—”
“Maybe later,” he interrupted, and I squinted my eyes at that. It would be our secret and we would both call the shots, something I didn’t think either of us knew about before then.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Blood and Chocolate