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Sem wasn’t fantastic at this, but he wasn’t bad, either. But the thing was, Ghost couldn’t even really think about that part of it to begin with, because Sem was so infuriatingly, stupidly pretty while doing this that it was dumbfounding. It verged on frustrating, but it was mostly dumbfounding.
Sem had a sweet, soft, angelic kind of face in the most objective way—with his big, doe-shaped, made-you-wanna-drown blue eyes and heart-shaped girl’s lips and symmetrical, sloping features. His long eyelashes fluttered and glittered with tears whenever he choked himself out or was forced to come up for air, too inexperienced and too enthusiastic. Even when he was gagging and then smearing precum on his open, panting mouth, grinding his palm against himself through his jeans, he was still pretty. He still looked like he could be posing for the camera.
The awful thought crossed Ghost’s mind that maybe Sem was meant to be popular on more than one kind of exploitative video-sharing entertainment platform, and the second thought crossed his mind that he was going to think about that for the next hundred or million or so years, but he shook it off. He really missed him.
“Sorry,” Sem gasped out, hastily scrubbing at his eyes with the hand that wasn’t supposed to be busy. Drool dripped in a sticky, wet thread from the tip of Ghost’s dick to Sem’s red, swollen, shiny bottom lip. “Fuck, I’m—Jesus, my jaw fucking hurts. Throat hurts. Oh my God.”
“Look, come on, you wanted this,” Ghost couldn’t help but remind Sem, feeling like a horrible asshole even as he said it, but it was true. And he was so fucking close that it felt like nothing else could possibly matter. Ghost exhaled shakily and twisted his fingers around chunks of Sem’s hair, not pulling hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough for Sem to feel it. Sem shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips gave an odd jerk. He dropped his forehead against Ghost’s thigh, stroking his hand up Ghost’s cock.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Sem sounded almost pitiful. Or, yeah, no, not almost; definitely pitiful. “I’m trying.” He reached around and sank his fingers into the back of Ghost’s thigh, urging him closer before finally taking Ghost back into his mouth again.
Pretty as ever. And it was complicated and horrible and sick and weird and messy and Ghost was torn between letting that overtake him and letting Sem do anything he could ever want. The guilt was potent and it was already burning a hole in Ghost’s stomach and chest.
But there was something that could allow him to not give a single shit about it while Sem was on his knees and looking like an advertisement for a paid membership to a porn website, desperate for praise and forgiveness and relief.
Ghost’s head hit the wall of Sem’s bedpost with a harsh thud that he didn’t feel as he dug his fingernails into Sem’s scalp and panted—“Fuck, fuck”—, pulling Sem’s head down further when he came. It hit him like he got punched. He didn’t know if it was the taboo of it all or what, but it got him in the gut in the worst way, almost forcing his knees to give out, his thighs trembling.
Sem practically retched when he pulled his mouth back off, barely able to swallow anything. He coughed and pressed his hand against his mouth, a shaky, guttural “Oh, God” forcing itself past his fingers. Cum leaked through them, dripping onto his t-shirt and on the floor between his legs. A tear rolled down his cheek as he coughed again, his tongue lolling past his lip, milky and slick.
“Zane, Jesus Christ,” Ghost managed, bracing himself against the wall and straightening up, grabbing at his zipper. “Are y—”
“M’fine.” Sem coughed a third time and swallowed hard, pressing his cheek against Ghost’s thigh. He fumbled for a second, shoving his jeans down just enough to reach his leaking cock.
Sem curling in on himself at Ghost’s feet, his cock in his hand, looking like he was just on the brink heaving was something Ghost shouldn’t have been seeing. Nothing about this was right. He shouldn’t have been hearing Sem’s high-pitched, soft, whiny moans as he got himself off, rocking against his hand.
When Sem stilled, he refused to make eye contact, still hiding against Ghost’s thigh. His shoulders shook and Ghost could feel the heat of his breath.
“I’m. . . uh. . .” Sem sniffled and slumped, sitting on his ass rather than his legs. He exhaled and gave a minute shake of his head. “Fuck, I’m really, like, I’m sorry. Was that okay?”
Ghost didn’t even know what to say to that. On a technical level, sure, yeah, it was fine. As he’d thought, not fantastic, but it was enough.
Was everything else okay? No.
“Yeah,” Ghost said instead. He swallowed and reached down to try and fix Sem’s hair, which was hanging in his face and entangled, completely destroyed. “It was, y’know. It was good.”
Sem shut his eyes again, leaning into Ghost’s touch. “I promise, I won’t do, like—anything like that again,” he murmured. “If it’s just gonna make things weirder.”
“I don’t even know if things could get weirder,” Ghost said, pulling his hand away. “I think that was as weird as it goes.”
Sem finally met Ghost’s eyes again. “I mean, it could definitely get weirder.”
Ghost paused. He wasn’t able to give any answer to that that wouldn’t lead somewhere he didn’t want to go. He settled on “I guess so”, the most non-responsive response. He didn’t answer the question Sem had formed without saying it outright: “Do you want it to?”
“You still want me to feature,” Ghost said instead, choosing to bury the question until it couldn’t be avoided anymore. He didn’t know how long it would be until that happened. He didn’t know how much had been ruined so quickly and he wouldn’t know until he was forced to deal with the true aftermath of whatever the fuck this was.
“Yeah.” Sem nodded and looked down at the floor, absently running his fingers through his damp hair. “Please.”