E9: You want this, don't you? | My Ex’s Brother Drew

This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.

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Recap: I’d walked into Jason’s room...yeah, my ex and somehow ended up on my knees. One thing led to another, and I had his cock back in my mouth like no time had passed. It was angry and quiet and stupidly hot. We didn’t finish… but it’s not over.

I was on my knees, hand still wrapped around my ex's dick, skin to skin. He hadn’t said a word since letting it out, just watched me, like the silence might make me flinch first. His cock twitched against my palm, already hard, already leaking. And of course it looked exactly how I remembered. Trimmed close. Uncut. Thick, curved, stupidly tempting. He always used to do that for me....the trimming. Said he didn’t want to hear me complain about strand of hair in my mouth again.

He let out a breath....sharp, like he’d been waiting for it. His fingers found the back of my head, light at first, threading through my hair. The kind of touch that was way too familiar. He didn’t push, didn’t guide. Just held.

“I fucking knew you’d still want it,” he said. “All that talk.”

I leaned in, let my lips brush along the base first, the way I always used to...tongue sneaking out for just a taste. He groaned, low and satisfied. His cock twitched again in my grip.

“I missed your mouth,” he said, voice closer to a confession than a tease.

I didn’t answer. I just opened up and took him in. The first few inches slid across my tongue easy, like my body remembered every angle, like i remember how the veins on his cock felt against my tongue..
His hand tightened a little, but he still didn’t move. Just let me set the pace. I pulled him deeper. Let my lips stretch around him, let my jaw ache a little. The heat of him filled my mouth, and fuck, it was stupid how good it felt.

He groaned again. “Still so fucking good at this.”

I pulled back just enough to smirk. “Yeah? Bet your brother thinks so too.”

That hit him like a jab. His fingers twitched in my hair, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re such a bitch,” he muttered. “A fucking brat.”

I smiled around the head of his cock, then sank back down slow, eyes on his. He didn’t look away. I bobbed my head, stroked the base with one hand, spit sliding down to meet my fingers. He tasted like sweat and salt and memory.

“Aaah.. babyyy…” he breathed.

Then his hands were on me, under my arms, lifting me like I weighed nothing. I barely had time to find my balance before his mouth crashed into mine. Hot. Bruising. Starved. I clutched at his shoulders as his tongue forced its way in, sloppy and hungry like he was trying to reclaim something that had been his.

I missed that mouth. I fucking missed it.

His hands ran up my back, down my sides, gripping everything like he needed it in his fists. My underwear was already halfway down my thighs, and his sweats were bunched at his ankles, long forgotten. We stumbled backward, mouths still locked, teeth scraping. His fingers dug into my hips.

Clothes came off between kisses; his shorts yanked over his ankles, my underwear peeled the rest of the way off. His mouth never stayed in one place. He kissed my jaw, my throat, bit at my collarbone like he wanted to leave marks. I clawed at his back, fingertips sliding down the dip of his spine. His cock bumped against mine, hard and slick, our skin hot and sweaty already.

“God, you taste the fucking same,” he muttered, tongue tracing the curve of my ear. “I could live off your mouth.”

We collapsed onto the bed like it had pulled us in, Jason on top, grinding down hard. He kissed me until I couldn’t breathe, fingers tangled in my hair, hips rolling like he couldn’t help it. My legs fell open automatically, thighs framing his hips, and he groaned at the feel of me under him.

Then suddenly, he pulled back.

He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, hands spreading my thighs wide. My heart pounded like it was about to explode. He grabbed my cock and licked it once...slow, like he was savoring it. Then again, wetter, his tongue teasing up the underside before he took me into his mouth.

I gasped.

He sucked like he meant it. Deep, eager pulls that made my whole spine twitch. His hand worked the base, mouth sloppier with every pass. I stared down at him, his dark hair between my legs, jaw flexing, lips stretched tight around me. Every few strokes he’d let me slip free just to spit on it, then suck me back down, slurping like he was drunk on it.

My head fell back. I groaned. “aaah jase.. jassooon.. fuccck,”

He hummed like he liked that, like he wanted to make me say his name again. He sucked harder, deeper, until I was losing track of everything. My hand slid into his hair, fingers curling tight.

“You’re so good at this,” I breathed. “Still fucking perfect.”

Jason pulled off with a wet gasp, spit glistening down his chin. His voice was wrecked when he spoke. He didn’t say anything else. Just climbed back on top of me, kissed me again like he needed to. His cock was hot against my thigh, leaking, twitching, dragging across my skin as he rutted into me slow. We weren’t rushing now. It wasn’t about teasing anymore. Just two bodies moving like they’d done this a hundred times and yeah, we had.

I wrapped a hand around him, felt him throb in my fist. His breath hitched against my cheek. He kept moving, grinding into me like he couldn’t stop, and I stroked him through it, our mouths barely separating. His thrusts started stuttering. I knew that rhythm.

"Fuck...Ryan.,." he groaned, and I didn’t stop until he was pulsing in my hand, thick ropes of cum streaking my stomach. He collapsed halfway on top of me, hips jerking with every spasm, biting down on my shoulder to muffle the sound.

I was close. So fucking close.

He looked up, breathless, lips swollen. “C’mon. You next.”

His fingers curled around my cock, wet and messy from his mouth earlier. He stroked me slow, sloppy, eyes locked on mine. I bucked into it once, twice and then I came hard across his chest, our skin slick with sweat and spit and cum.

We didn’t speak after that. Didn’t need to.

He slid down beside me, arm draped over my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. I stayed there, staring at the ceiling, heart still thudding, body still twitching from aftershocks.

Maybe I should’ve gotten up. Gotten dressed. Left.

Instead, I let my eyes fall closed.

And just like that, I fell asleep next to the same boy who had dumped me weeks ago.


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