My Straight Friend Became My Dessert | E4 (Patreon)

All characters in this story are over 18 years of age.

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Now He Was the One Who Decorated Me

The next day, he appeared at the door with the same bag as always, but something about him was different. His smile was wider. His gait was more relaxed. It was as if something inside him had loosened up, something had been released. And I think I knew what it was.

"All right, Matt," he said, putting down his bag. "Surprise me again."

I stood opposite him, at the same distance as usual. But something had changed between us. This time, the tension wasn't coming from me. It was in him. As if he was waiting not for what I would do to him, but for what I would give him.

I looked calmly into his eyes.

"Have you ever thought... what if it were the other way around?"

He frowned, as if he didn't immediately understand what I meant. I could see him analyzing every word. And then he paused.

"You mean... you're the dessert?"

I smiled slightly, keeping my eyes on him.

"Exactly. Would you like to try?"

There was a silence. Not long, but long enough to feel the weight of the proposal. He looked at me intensely, without a trace of laughter. There was something in his eyes that I hadn't seen before, attentiveness. Focused, almost greedy, as if he wanted to remember my every breath.

"Actually... why not. Let's try it," he said finally, slowly, quietly.

I didn't move right away. I wanted him to know that what was about to happen would not be a mirror image of last night. It would be something new. Something that would change even more between us.

I walked slowly to the middle of the room. I looked down at him, as if asking, are you sure?

He just nodded.

And I started to undress.

I grabbed the edge of my shirt and slowly pulled it over my head. The movement was calm, controlled. I could see his gaze fixed on me as if he were seeing me for the first time. As if he wasn't just looking, but trying to remember every detail.

When the shirt fell to the floor, Jax said nothing. He stood opposite me, leaning slightly against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. But his gaze was no longer friendly. It wandered from my chest, down my stomach, lower, stopping at my belt. I unbuckled it slowly, feeling my body begin to tremble, not with uncertainty, but with excitement.

I slid my pants down to my ankles and stood naked. Primarily for him.

My cock was hard, tense, I didn't hide it. I could see that he saw it.

Something flashed in his eyes that couldn't be ignored. Desire that needed no words. He just muttered under his breath, as if to himself:

"Fuck, Matt... you're really handsome."

I didn't answer. I just smiled slightly. I sat on the edge of the bed, leaned back with my hands behind me, presenting myself in full. I felt exposed, but not vulnerable. I felt ready.

"Now you decorate me."

Jax approached slowly, as if he was still gathering his courage. He reached for the can of whipped cream from the bag and looked at me with something that resembled delight. Or hunger. Or both.

When he first pressed the button, the foam hissed out and fell onto my chest, cold, light, spreading softly across my chest. Jax watched it as if he were painting something sacred. And I, lying naked in front of him, felt... desired in a way I didn't know.

And I didn't want anything else.

I was lying propped up on my elbows, naked, with his gaze sliding over me like a warm touch. And even though I was the one on display, completely exposed, I had the sense that he felt more uncovered than I did. As if decorating me was more intimate than being the one adorned.

Jax leaned over and pressed the button a second time. The cream sprayed onto my stomach, between my ribs. Then he moved higher, carefully, with surprising attentiveness, as if he didn't want to spoil anything. He covered my nipples with a thin layer of foam, tracing them carefully, as if they were more than just a part of my body. As if they were a place of worship.

I closed my eyes, feeling a slight shiver. My body reacted immediately. Not to the cold. To his presence. To the concentration with which he was taking care of me. To his silence, which was not awkwardness, but pure... presence.

The cream appeared on my neck, a thin line that ran down to the side. I could feel Jax becoming more confident. He was no longer just applying it. He was beginning to... create.

Suddenly, he moved lower and sprayed my thighs. One, then the other. Too close to the inside for it to be an accident. I didn't move. I waited.

I looked at him from under half-closed eyelids. He was focused. He was breathing deeply. His gaze was no longer just curiosity. It was fascination. And something more, as if he couldn't believe he was doing this. And yet he was.

"Now my fingers," I murmured calmly, sliding my hand toward him.

He looked up, took my hand gently, as if it were made of porcelain, and decorated each finger with a thin line of foam. I could feel his fingers trembling as the cream ran down my skin.

And then he leaned over me. His lips touched my chest. His tongue moved carefully over my nipple. Wet. Warm. Surprisingly precise.

I closed my eyes.

He licked the cream off my skin slowly, with a soft smacking sound. He moved lower from my nipples, down my stomach, following the trail he had left behind. I felt every movement of his tongue like a burning trail left behind by a kiss.

I was breathing heavily. Slowly. But I was no longer in control. My body was giving itself to him with the same passion with which his body had given itself to me just two days ago.

His tongue was soft, gentle, and yet hungry. It left wet marks on my body, never stopping for a moment, and I didn't want it to stop. I felt my body tense with every inch he moved.

I felt that if this continued, I would lose control.

And I didn't mind.

I lay with my head thrown back, breathing quietly, when his tongue reached my chest again. He was slow, attentive, warm, as if he was licking me not for the game, but for himself. As if he was discovering that he could do it, that he liked doing it. I felt that Jax was no longer pretending. That he had stopped checking what he was feeling and was just feeling.

And then his gaze shifted down to my hand, still slightly raised, covered in cream. He paused at my fingers. He looked into my eyes as if waiting for a sign. I just nodded slightly.

He took my wrist and slowly brought my finger to his mouth.

I froze.

There was something disturbingly intimate about it. He sucked it deep, right away, as if he knew what he was doing. His lips were warm, soft, his tongue movements rhythmic, precise. It wasn't about the cream anymore. He sucked me as if he were sucking my cock. And we both knew it.

I moaned softly. Not from pain. From tension. From the shock of how much it turned me on.

He looked me in the eyes. The whole time. When he moved on to the second finger, he did it slower, deeper. He slid it in all the way to the hilt, wrapping his tongue around it on both sides. He sucked as if he were testing what it would do to me.

It did. My body pulsed. My cock was hard, precum oozing unconsciously, leaving a wet streak on my stomach.

That sucking... was more erotic than anything he had done so far. I felt like he was touching the very center of me, even though it was just fingers.

We didn't talk. But our breaths were louder than any words. Full of tension, weight, something... that changed with every second.

He sucked me, and I lay beneath him, completely devoted.

And suddenly I knew: the roles had reversed, but the desire remained the same.

Or maybe even stronger.

There was something new in the last glance he gave me. Hunger. Uncertainty. And something that resembled admiration.

As if he was seeing me like this for the first time.

And as if... he wanted more.