Pretty Boy (The Boys of Apartment 13, #1)

by Brianna Flores

I want to be the one whose pleasure is the focus, not the other way around. Why can’t I just lay there and take it? I am not at all a giving person. Give it to me, dammit. Give me all of the things. That’s what I want.

I like him. I have a crush on this guy. A big one. I don’t know what this means, how it’s possible to go from straight to wanting everything from some big-tattooed dude, but it’s there. And I want everything. His attention, the words he speaks, the very air he breathes. I want him to like me, to want me as much as I want him.

His tatted hands––black and grey roses on each one, with a bunch of smaller random tattoos on each finger––would look so good on me. Anywhere. My neck. My arms or legs. My dick.

Ugh. They’d look so fucking good on my dick. I just know it.

I’m a one-and-done kind of guy, and Liam here screams clingy. Fucking screams it.

He looks like a good fuck. I’d wait until after we hooked up, though. And he’d go for it, I know he would. The way he looks at me tells me he’s absolutely gagging for my dick. I know the type. He’d be eager to please, do anything I said, and do it happily.

If he keeps looking at me like he wants to choke on my dick, I’m going to have to make it happen before we leave.

I know I should take it slow, or as slow as a sudden hookup can be anyway, but he looks too fucking good. I guess I have a thing for nervous pretty boys.

I expect the kiss to be chaste, a brief meeting of lips, but he gasps against my mouth and leans into me heavily. So fucking eager for it that I can’t help but glide my tongue against his. He whimpers. This six-foot-something boy with a solid six-pack actually whimpers against my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my dick.

God, the way he kisses, it fills me to the fucking brim. It has my chest swelling, my brain slipping into a haziness that I have to step away from him just to see through. Never has a kiss just wholly devoured me like that, demanded so much from me. Just fucking owned me so completely.

Such a pretty little thing, I think, my lips pressed against his throat. “So soft and sweet,”

He is soft and sweet. Almost delicate and so fucking pretty.

“Shh,” I soothe, rubbing my hand in a circular motion on his lower back. “You said easy, Liam. I’m going to take care of this little hole, I promise, but I’m doing this how you need it. So gentle, isn’t that right, beautiful?”

“Yeah, pretty boy,” I chuckle, finding his eagerness oddly endearing. I lean over him just to give him one final kiss. “You get my cock now. And you’re gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” I ask him, my mouth almost touching his as I slide the condom over my sensitive length. He whimpers, giving me a little nod and kissing me again.

He looks into my eyes and seems to get stuck there until his eyes roll back in his head and his swollen lips open in a silent moan. I roll my hips languidly into his, and when his ass squeezes the ever-loving fuck out of my dick, I have to stop moving. His body is jerking as he cries out in ecstasy, his hole spasming around me as he loses his mind to pleasure.

“Don’t make me pull out. Please don’t make me pull out, beautiful. God, this ass…” I need to come, and it needs to be inside him. “I’m still hard.” He swallows, the sound clicking in my ear, and it prompts me to check. He is. Hard as a rock, his cock flushed almost purple with a bead of cum sitting at the tip. “I can take more. I want it.”

“You feel so fucking good, Liam.” “Yeah?” he asks, sounding so in need of reassurance that I have to laugh. “Oh, fuck, beautiful. Absolutely,” I nod my head and end up pressing my face into his. I just can’t keep my mouth off of his. “Like this ass was made for my dick.”

“Are you gonna come again, sweetheart? You like my cock that much?”

I know I enjoyed it way more than he did. That’s probably why he wouldn’t kiss me afterward. Would barely even look at me. I made him fuck me slow and then came twice as much as he did. Literally. Seems kind of rude when I think about it. Why am I so fucking boring?

Awwww poor Liam 🥺

Otherwise, he’d bite him. He does that a lot. Chomps on us when we’re annoying him and standing too close. Sometimes I don’t even have to do anything but exist to earn a bite. He claims it’s one of his love languages, but I’m pretty sure it’s his hate language.

Man. Fuck him. Seriously. Fuck that guy. I have to close my eyes when my stupid brain reminds me that I did. I did fuck that guy. And when that same stupid brain reminds me that, actually, he fucked me, I swear I could knock myself out.

Annoy Baby, get bit. He should know better by now.

But then he steps out of the bathroom and gives me a wry smile––if you can even call a simple pursing of lips a smile––and all I want to do is touch him. Apologize. I should have done better by him.

I have no idea what possessed me to ask him to come here. Actually, I didn’t even ask him, not really. I told him I was hungry and then veered my car into the parking lot. I basically kidnapped him.

Why is that so fucking good? It’s a wonder. Seriously. My prostate. It’s like the Great Barrier Reef of my body. The Grand Canyon. The Great Wall of China. Better than any of the however many wonders of the world because these orgasms? Fuck.

The only thing that would make it better is if I was in bed, just lying down and taking it. Being fucked.

But I’m blushing and caught in a creepy stare-off with Sebastian. Why won’t he look away? Does he expect me to? Doesn’t he know that I can’t? It’s got to be him.

shoes. I set my bag in front of the stall door and ignore the way my dick is starting to thicken. This is not the time nor the place for that, and really, how slutty can that thing be? I shouldn’t be horny anymore, not after my earlier escapades. It’s his fault. He gave me something and then took it away, and now my dick and my asshole just don’t know how to act.

“Liam, you wanting me does not mean that I want you.” “Oh.” My shoulders slump, and I have to look down so that he can’t see it when my face reflects how much that fucking hurt me. I’m not even surprised. I mean, I didn’t see it coming, but yeah. Makes sense that he doesn’t want me. Nobody really does and that’s something I’m aware of, so why does this bother me? There are so many reasons for him to not want me.

“Is it because I was too boring?” “Boring?” “Like, because I told you to take it easy on me?” I look up and, for once, see him looking at me without a scowl etched onto his stupidly handsome face. “It was just because it was my first time, y’know? I wouldn’t always need it to be so… gentle. I know that, well I’m sure it wasn’t all that great for you, but,” he starts walking towards me, and I swallow. He kind of looks like he’s going to hit me, but I keep talking anyway because I need to say this shit. “I had fun, but I'm sorry if I wasn’t good enough.”

He is so hot. So goddamn sexy. No wonder he’s got me all fucked up, wanting dick all of a sudden. He called me beautiful, but I’m basically a blobfish compared to him because he’s a total stunner. It blows my mind that I ever thought anyone before him was attractive. Nobody compares.

He grips my cock, and I have to look. Need to see it. And, fuck. Those fingers wrapped around me like that, I knew they’d look good, but god. This is better than I’d imagined. I wish I could take a picture, keep it forever. I want to remember it exactly like this. I want to be able to pull this image out and look at it when he’s done with me, no longer willing to touch me. Mostly, I want him to just never be done with me. To always want to touch me. To flash his horribly adorable dimples at me every chance he can. I want… I just want.

I grab his hand, grateful that he lets me do it, and take one of his fingers into my mouth, with every intention to just coat it with as much spit as possible, but his hands. I’m obsessed. I know some people like feet, and that’s a kink, but I’m pretty sure I have a hand kink. It’s a thing. It’s got to be, and if it’s not, it is now.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, sounding awed, and when I pry my eyes open, I find his pupils blown, that icy blue that haunts my daydreams barely visible. Nobody has ever looked at me quite like that. Like I’m sexy. Looked at me in a way that makes it impossible to not feel needed, wanted.

“What’s this?” His finger sinks in and rubs at my insides, and I mentally curse through the bliss at how easy it is. He breathes a quiet laugh against my chin, and I have to shut my eyes, so mortified I can’t even move. “You’re so loose for me, sweetheart. I slid right in. Is this what you meant? You’re even a little wet for me.”

“You forgot what? How open and wet you left your hole for me? Just like a good little cunt should be, huh?”

I have to blink hard just to see his face clearly through all the blur and end up finding him smiling at me. He’s going to have to stop doing that. Between the orgasm and his fingers inside me and his stupid dimples, I just can’t stand it.

He’s so subby 🥵

Honestly, I haven’t had a single straight thought since I laid eyes on him.

“Playing with yourself?” He’s teasing me, soothing the burn of shame a bit because I can tell that he likes it. “Isn’t that right? Getting this pretty pussy ready for me.” “Oh, fuck,” I breathe through my nose, biting my lip so I shut up. I know he’s making fun of me for the bullshit I said a few minutes ago, but I don’t know why I’m so willing to roll with it. I might even be enjoying it, just a little. He’s definitely enjoying it. He likes the idea of me stuffing my hole, but knowing that doesn’t fully get rid of the humiliation.

“Shh, it’s okay. I fucking love that. Were you thinking of me, princess?”

Back at the gym, he told me that he wouldn’t always need it gentle, but I don’t think he meant that. He likes things a certain way and responds much better when I stay moving easily. Sex with Liam is slow. Sensual. Soft and sticky-sweet. He takes long, languid strokes like he’s starved for them.

He grabs my arms and puts my hands on him, and I just let him. He moves my limbs until he’s got a bicep under his head and my other arm over his middle, and it’s such a relief that it stuns me. He took the decision away from me and wrapped himself up in my arms, and it feels like it’s easier to breathe all of a sudden. Like the tension in my body is no more.

I was only teasing when I called him a princess last night, but it fits. He is one, and I’m obsessed with that part of him. I’ve been with bossy guys, power bottoms that top from the bottom and demand what they want, but Liam only kind of fits that bill. He’s demanding. He tells me what he wants, but he’s so delicate with the way he says things.

“I want to… I’ve never done it, but you can show me. Teach me how to make you come, Bash. Please?” I hate when he looks at me like that. Like I make him feel insecure and unsure of himself. His eyes look so much better when I’m making him feel good. I’m pretty sure the only time I manage that is when we’re having sex, and that’s––I don’t even know why that bothers me so much.

When he finally takes me in his mouth, lets me stretch his pouty lips wide, and flattens his tongue along the underside of my dick, I moan. He looks up at me, seemingly pleased at the sound, and I have to touch him. I palm his cheeks and relish the look in his eyes. Nobody has ever looked at me like that, like making me feel good is his sole purpose for existing in this moment. My pretty little pillow princess taking the time and care to make me feel good is everything.

God, he loves it, my hands on him. I know he does. I see it in the way he responds every single time I touch him. He’s so fucking beautiful like this, mouth full of cock and eyes full of tears.

When my fingers find their way into his hair once again, lightly scratching at his scalp, he moves his arms until they’re around me, buries his nose in my groin, and very unsubtly inhales. Deeply. My chest swells at the sight. This is weird. He’s fucking weird. He doesn’t act like a guy who was straight before meeting me. At least not when we’re alone.

I remember him asking me if I thought he was boring in bed, how meek he’d been when he said it. It had pissed me off to see him so insecure, and he’s only just now started accepting his sexuality––came out to his dad just last night. She doesn’t need to come here and weaponize his insecurities like this.

I am abrasive most of the time, but I don’t want to be. Not with him.

more than like him. Bash fucks me up. I want him all the time, his dick, his presence, his stupid dimples. Those hands. His smiles. Ugh. The way he glares at everything––everything––makes it so that when he does smile, it’s kind of precious. Feels like I earned something special.