Crossdressing To Survive An Apocalypse [BL]

Chen pulled back just enough to look at him—really look at him. Skyy’s eyes were glassy, his lips swollen and red, his hair a disaster. He was the most beautiful thing Chen had ever seen, and he was trembling in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist like he belonged there.

”Last chance,” Chen rasped, though his hips were still grinding in shallow, involuntary circles. ”Tell me to stop and I will.”

Skyy shook his head frantically. ”If you stop I’ll kill you.”

Chen laughed—actually laughed, low and rough—and something wild and hungry broke loose behind his eyes. ”Good answer.”

He lowered him from the wall slowly, letting Skyy’s feet find the ground, but he didn’t step back. Instead he reached for the waistband of Skyy’s loose pants and tugged them down in one rough motion, taking his underwear with them.

Skyy squeaked—actually squeaked—and tried to cover himself with both hands.

Chen caught his wrists and pinned them above his head against the wall.

”Don’t,” he said. ”Let me see.”

Skyy’s face went crimson from his hairline to his chest. His cock stood flushed and wet, curved up against his stomach, still slick from everything Chen had done to him.

”Chen, it’s—it’s embarrassing—”

”You’re leaking all over yourself,” Chen observed, almost clinically, and Skyy made a strangled noise. ”That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He dropped to his knees.

Skyy’s breath punched out of him. ”What are you—”

Chen answered by dragging his tongue flat up the underside of him, root to tip, gathering the wetness there.

Skyy screamed.

Not a moan—an honest-to-god scream, high and startled, and his knees buckled so hard Chen had to catch him by the hips to keep him upright.

”Oh—oh god—”

Chen did it again. Slower. Then he took the head into his mouth and sucked.

”CHEN—”

Skyy’s hands flew down, burying themselves in Chen’s hair, yanking hard enough that Chen grunted around him. He bobbed his head once, twice, hollowing his cheeks, and Skyy’s hips jerked forward so violently Chen nearly choked.

”S-sorry—” Skyy gasped. ”Sorry, sorry, you just—your mouth is—”

Chen pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him. His lips were shiny. Skyy wanted to die.

”Don’t apologize,” Chen said. ”Fuck my face if you want.”

”Fuck your—” Skyy blinked down at him. ”That’s a thing?”

Chen’s grin was feral. ”You’ve got a lot to learn.”

He went back down and this time he took him deep—all the way to the base, nose pressed into the soft skin of Skyy’s belly, throat working around him.

Skyy sobbed.

His hips stuttered forward, shallow little thrusts, and Chen let him. Let him use his mouth, let him chase the heat, hummed low in his throat until Skyy was shaking apart above him.

”I’m—I think I’m—” Skyy’s voice cracked. ”Chen, something’s happening—”

Chen pulled off just in time.

Skyy came with a broken cry, hot and white across his own stomach, his whole body convulsing, fingers twisted in Chen’s hair. His legs gave out completely and he slid down the wall—and Chen caught him, eased him down, kept him from hitting the floor.

”Easy,” Chen murmured. ”Easy, I’ve got you.”

Skyy lay sprawled and gasping, boneless, staring up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. ”What,” he wheezed. ”What was that.”

”An orgasm.”

”I know what it was, I meant—” He flapped a hand weakly. ”—your ’mouth’.”

Chen didn’t answer. He was staring at the mess on Skyy’s stomach, at the way it glistened in the moonlight, and something dark and greedy was turning over in his expression.

He reached down and dragged two fingers through the puddle on Skyy’s belly.

Skyy made a confused noise. ”What are you—”

Chen lifted his hand, looked at the slick coating his fingers, and then reached down between Skyy’s own legs.

Skyy’s whole body jolted.

”Chen—Chen, what—”

”Lube,” Chen said simply, and pressed one wet fingertip against his entrance.

Skyy went rigid. His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Chen rubbed slow, careful circles against the tight ring of muscle, spreading Skyy’s own release around it, watching his face the whole time.

”Relax,” he said. ”Breathe.”

”I ’am’ breathing—” Skyy’s voice was an octave too high. ”I’m breathing so much, this is so much—”

Chen pushed in.

Just one finger. Slow. Steady.

Skyy’s breath stopped entirely. His eyes went huge and wet, fixed on Chen’s face like he was the only anchor in a storm.

”Okay?” Chen asked.

Skyy nodded frantically, then shook his head, then nodded again.

Chen huffed a laugh. ”That’s not an answer.”

”It’s—” Skyy swallowed. ”It’s weird. It’s—full. It’s—” His hips twitched. ”Oh.”

”Oh?”

”Do that again.”

Chen curled his finger and pressed up.

Skyy’s back arched off the floor and he moaned—a real moan this time, long and low and filthy—and Chen felt his own cock twitch so hard it hurt.

He added a second finger.

Skyy whimpered, high and needy, his hands fisting in the blanket beneath him. His legs fell open wider without being told, knees dropping to either side, offering himself up.

”God,” Chen breathed, staring down at him. ”Look at you. Look at you opening up for me.”

”Shut up,” Skyy mumbled, face burning. ”You’re—you’re making me blush.”

”You’re already blushing. You’ve been blushing since you woke up.”

”Then you’re making it ’worse’—”

Chen scissored his fingers, twisting, and Skyy’s sentence dissolved into a wail.

His hips rolled down, chasing the stretch, and Chen watched his own fingers disappear into that tight, hot body and nearly lost his mind.

”You’re so tight,” he said, voice ragged. ”Skyy, you’re so fucking tight, how are you going to take me—”

”Take you—” Skyy’s eyes snapped open. ”You mean—”

Chen pulled his fingers out, and Skyy made a small, bereft sound. Chen reached for his own waistband, unbuttoned, unzipped, and shoved his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh.

His cock sprang free.

Skyy stared.

He’d felt it, obviously—it had been grinding against him all night—but seeing it was different. Thick and long and flushed dark, curving up against his belly, so hard it looked almost painful. There was a bead of wetness at the tip, and it smeared when Chen stroked himself once, twice, spreading it.

”Oh,” Skyy said faintly.

Chen caught the look on his face and smirked. ”Scared?”

”No,” Skyy said, too quickly. ”Yes. Maybe. A little.”

Chen leaned down and kissed him—soft this time, surprisingly tender—and Skyy melted into it, his hands coming up to frame Chen’s face.

”It’ll fit,” Chen murmured against his lips. ”I’ll make it fit. I’ll go slow.”

”You said you couldn’t be gentle.”

”I lied.”

Skyy laughed, breathless, and then Chen was settling between his legs, one hand braced beside his head, the other guiding himself to Skyy’s entrance.

The blunt head pressed against him.

Skyy’s breath caught.

”Ready?” Chen asked.

”No.”

”Good.”

And he pushed in.