Rock Rod 3

Rock Rod Studios Presents:

Alex On Top

By

Emory Vargas

© 2015 Emory Vargas

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design by Emory Vargas

Formatting by Indra Vaughn

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. No persons, living or dead, were harmed by the writing of this book. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Peter lingers in the doorway at Alex's place, his pretty mouth twisted up in a concerned expression. "You really live in a dorm room."

"Surprisingly, that's the kind of rooms we have in the dormitory." Alex kicks a pair of turquoise briefs under his bed. He cleaned up for Peter's arrival but possibly forgot about the briefs he had to change out of in a hurry after a semen related mishap.

He was a little excited about Peter coming over.

"It's just so... college-y," Peter says, stepping inside like a vampire crossing a threshold made of garlic. Apparently living off campus makes Peter a hipster college student. The metal door shuts behind him with a resounding thump. "It looks like a prison cell."

He's not entirely wrong. The beige concrete block walls are pretty Spartan, even with Alex's big Dali poster from the campus bookstore. And the room has a weird echo.

"Do prison cells have plaid sheets?" Alex asks, gesturing at the green and blue sheets his mom bought from a mail order catalog that came with his college admissions information.

"They might. I haven't checked." Peter sits on his bed and gives it a test bounce. It squeaks hideously, and he grins. "Everyone on your floor must know when you have a girl in here."

"It's not a co-ed floor."

Peter tilts his head. "And?"

"And I'm an RA, I can't have girls in here. It'd be setting a bad example."

"I don't think I'll ever stop being intrigued by your Boy Scout tendencies." Peter's grin widens and changes, becoming something a little wolfish. "Maybe that's what makes the sex so hot. You're a good boy. You just can't help your bad, bad urges."

Alex throws a stuffed animal at him. Which in hindsight is maybe a bad idea since it draws a lot of attention to the fact that he brought his childhood stuffed puppy to college with him. Fortunately, Peter doesn't seem to notice. He dodges it and darts his hand out to catch Alex's wrist and tug him down onto the little bed.

"You are bad," Alex says weakly, not super liking being teased but definitely liking the way Peter shoves him onto his back and starts pushing his shirt up. Peter's fingernails are bitten short and he has broad hands and dark hair on his forearms. Alex watches his strong fingers crawl up his belly like sexy spiders.

"So?" Peter asks, pressing a filthy, wet kiss against Alex's bare belly. "You like it."

Alex does. He really does. "Wait." His voice is already going all strangled and stupid. "Date. Date is happening. Not this."

Peter presses his hand firmly against the roll of Alex's dick in his jeans. "This isn't happening?"

"Well that's happening, yes. But it's your fault with the kissing. We're supposed to be getting sushi."

Pouting, Peter lowers his jaw and lets his chin nudge Alex's cock through the denim. Then, keeping his gaze on Alex's, he shifts to run his nose along the length of it, inhaling deeply.

Alex has never been smelled before.

His heart starts racing. Does he smell like jizz? He shouldn't. He washed up in the bathroom. Kind of. Does he smell like sweat? Probably not. He showered two hours ago. Why is Peter smelling him?

"Fuck," Alex says, drawing the word out softly until it becomes a wet sound in his throat.

"I know we're supposed to be going on a date, but I want to suck your dick and eat you out," Peter says. His breath feels moist and warm through Alex's clothes, and how is Alex supposed to think clearly?

"Okay," Alex says, because he's only a man. A man with a raging boner.

A shiver runs through Peter and he closes his eyes for a second. Alex pushes up on his elbows to watch as Peter nuzzles at his crotch, mouthing at his jeans and teasing him with pressure at his balls and along his cock. It's like watching a cat on drugs and somehow it's the hottest thing Alex has ever seen.

"Glad I jerked off before you got here," Alex says. Otherwise he'd be coming in his pants. Like two minutes ago.

Peter laughs softly as his hands run up and down Alex's thighs until they feel hot with friction. "What'd you think about when you touched yourself?"

That's an easy question. "You."

Peter's gaze snaps up to Alex's. For a split second, his expression changes. It's open and startled, and a sweet smile twitches at his lips. "Oh yeah?" he asks, wetting his lips—the moment over. "What was I doing to you?"

"I, um…." Alex's breath trembles out. Words. Where'd they go? "Playing. With."

"You're blushing," Peter says. But he is too. His neck goes pink with it. "Playing with what?"

Alex has no idea how Peter and Andre talk so candidly about sex, or how it comes out so filthy and earnest. His tongue feels thick and useless as he tries to explain. "With your ass. Fingering it. Your ass."

"Oh." Peter gives Alex's dick another hard nuzzle and starts trying to maneuver his fly down. "And how was it?"

"Hot." Alex swallows. "Literally. I mean, figuratively too. All around hot."

He lifts his hips and helps by squirming awkwardly as Peter works his jeans and briefs down his thighs. They get stuck bunched up at his ankles until Peter gives them a hard yank. It's a good damn thing he's still barefoot or they'd be doing this for half an hour. Feeling helpful, Alex shrugs out of his shirt.

"Wait." Now he's naked and Peter has all of his clothes on. Even his shoes.

Peter grins like he knows it. "Wait?" he asks, gently wrapping his fingers around Alex's dick.

"Nevermind," Alex chokes. "Don't wait."

"I didn't think so. Sit up. Against the wall like that," Peter says, moving him and sliding off the bed to kneel beside it.

It's a ridiculously narrow bed. Alex's shoulders press against the cold wall and he digs his heels into the edge of the bed. It makes his body form a soft little curve. With his knees splayed wide, Peter has a front row view of every damn thing his mama gave him.

He's still shaved from the last Rock Rod scene, and it makes him feel extra naked.

"Do you have lube here?" Peter asks, taking his glasses off and placing them on Alex's desk.

"No. I mean, I have some lotion."

Peter makes a face. "That's a gigantic no. And don't ever put that in your butt. Especially if it's some cucumber raspberry mango smoothie flavored shit."

Alex grabs his dick for morale. "It's grapefruit scented."

"Lube goes in your butt. Grapefruit perfume does not go in your butt."

"What's going in my butt?" Alex asks, unable to avoid the question. Butt stuff wasn't on the menu as far as he knew. Not that he minds. But it still feels like a big huge thing, and his body needs to know if it's time to start trembling and freaking out if they're doing big huge stuff.

Peter kisses the inside of Alex's thigh. "I was going to fingerbang you, but I won't. We'll do that with lube some time. It'll blow your mind."

"That sounds better than shampoo."

Peter cringes and laughs at the same time. "Babe, no. No shampoo in your butt either."

The soft, seemingly unintentional endearment sends a shock of heat up Alex's back. He looks at Peter and finds Peter looking back at him thoughtfully, his mouth working down Alex's thigh toward his balls.

"You're a word guy," Peter says.

"Huh?" Alex doesn't feel like a word guy. He feels like a caveman, able to only grunt his pleasure and his profound hope that Peter's hot, wet mouth eventually finds his cock.

"You like dirty talk. Sex language."

"I do." It's true. But it's more than that. More than that with Peter, anyway. He wants Peter to call him nice things—private things. And he doesn't know if that's what Peter wants or means and he isn't going to spend too much time being angsty about it right now, because his dick is leaking against his belly and Peter's mouth is leaving a hot trail down his thigh.

"I like that too," Alex gasps out, shifting his weight to watch Peter suck a testicle tenderly into his mouth. It looks like something that should hurt or feel weird, but it feels really good. Not like having his dick sucked good, but definitely not bad at all.

Peter looks so serious, eyes half-closed, his mouth working at Alex's shaved balls. He moves from one to the other, kneading carefully with his fingers. Alex's skin is wet and shiny once Peter's done.

And Alex's cock feels like it'll actually explode soon.

"When we get you lubed up, I'm going to ram my fingers against your prostate to see if I can get you to come without touching again. That was amazing," Peter says. He lets his breath bathe the tip of Alex's cock. "I can't wait to see how that looks on tape."

Alex is stuck on the idea of ramming and fingers. He shakes his head, and then nods, dizzy and forgetting what he's agreeing to or if he's agreeing to something.

Peter's fingers wrap around the base of Alex's cock. He takes a slow, long lick like he's tasting a gigantic piece of candy, and when he reaches the tip he suckles there, his tongue flicking at the slit.

"Oh!" Alex shouts. His head knocks back against the unforgiving concrete wall. "Fuck."

"You taste good." Peter's fingers slide around Alex's wet balls and find his hole. He doesn't try to push inside, but he plays there, applying enough pressure to make Alex squirm and whine.

Are blowjobs always this good? How do people survive getting blowjobs this good even semi-regularly? It's too much.

Alex can't even remember what planet he lives on. The universe revolves around Peter's wicked mouth and playful fingers.

"Close your eyes," Peter says, his voice low and hungry. "Just feel it."

It's dizzying with his eyes closed. Alex's fingers tangle up in his bed sheets as he tries to find purchase so he doesn't fall off the world. He feels his thighs shaking and the tickling trip of sweat pouring down his calves and thighs from the backs of his knees. But mostly he feels Peter starting to stroke and suck his cock at the same time, fingers twisting and kneading, tongue lashing.

It lasts longer this time, Alex's balls still wrung out from his last minute panicked jerk-a-thon. When he isn't blowing his wad in two seconds, the build up is almost too much. It's so much. And Peter's fingers are there teasing at his clench—tapping and pressing there and making Alex want to flip over and spread his legs and beg for a cock up his ass.

"Peter," he says, the sound coming out like a low, broken whine. "Peter."

"I got you, babe," Peter says, mouth slick against his cock skin. "I'm going to swallow you. Don't kick me or anything."

Swallow? What does that—

"Fuck!" Alex covers his mouth with one hand, vaguely aware that he has suitemates just one bathroom over. They can probably hear him losing his entire mind because Peter's throat is constricting around the head of his cock. It feels like being squeezed and swallowed.

"Oh God," he whispers, every muscle in his body straining as his orgasm builds. His breath comes faster with little animal sounds he can't swallow back. He bites the soft flesh of his palm and holds his breath, losing himself to the crashing wave of pleasure and the impossible heat of Peter's mouth.

It feels like coming forever. His hips jerk up violently and he twitches and shakes with it. Peter grips his hip and holds his cock and keeps swallowing like he's wringing the cum out of Alex with his throat.

When it starts to end, Alex feels exposed. He places one hand against his belly and shakes, reaching weakly for his sheets.

"Whoa there," Peter says. "Look at me."

Alex looks at him and stares, shocked to find tears rolling down his cheeks. "Sorry," he mumbles. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Peter pushes up and kisses Alex's cheek tenderly, wiping the tears with his lips. "It can get really intense really quickly when you have your eyes closed. I should have warned you."

Alex watches him blearily, taking in the swollen flush at Peter's lips and the slickness of his chin. "Intense. Yes," he echoes.

Peter's lips form a slow smile. "The care and feeding of an Alex requires ample blanket forts, huh?" He pulls the coverlet out from Alex and starts draping it around him.

"I'm not five," Alex says, half-grumpy but mostly very happy to have Peter close and smiling at him.

"You certainly are not." Peter climbs into the bed and pulls Alex against his chest. His arms and and legs tangle all around him, and Alex instantly feels safe and grounded. "Better?"