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[pharmacy]

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Quentin Smith, 23

letters ◇ thoughts ◇ dreams

CODE BY

Comments

[pharmacy]

Good morning, Billy, yeah, I'm gay as a daisy. Spoiled too. And stupid.

[poleaxed]

Oh, c'mon, I was making fun of myself.

[He knows Billy? Maybe they're friends 😊]

I'd spoil you, though.

[pharmacy]

Joan Dority, is this a booty call? It's like--lunchtime.

[poleaxed]

You know you've passed on the opportunity for a blowjob twice in a row? This would be strike three. That'd be a record for me.

[pharmacy]

What--passed on it how? When? Wait, is that what that was supposed to be?

[poleaxed]

Quentin... Ugh.

[Actually saying this is like pulling teeth, but she's trying to be less of a bitch-] I want to hang out, because you're nice to be around. And I wouldn't mind getting you off, because I like getting you off.

[pharmacy]

And specifically, you wanna blow me?

[poleaxed]

Yes? Is that a crime in Fucktown? I thought we were all sexually liberated here.

[pharmacy]

I'm just making sure I'm not missing the message again. Yeah. Yeah, I'm down to hang and fool around.

Hey, have you been swimming yet?

[poleaxed]

Take out your decoder ring, the message is: have you ever been deepthroated?

...by a lake. Have you ever been deepthroated by the lakeside?

[pharmacy]

I have never been deepthroated anywhere that I was relaxed enough to enjoy it, so...I dunno, you have time tomorrow night?

[poleaxed]

You have to relax first? I have to relax first. But she doesn't send it, because she doesn't want to spook him. It feels like she always spooks him. She comes on too hot and heavy, she needs to chill. So she sends an answer that isn't, apparently, too tepid. They meet up. They swim, and get leeches, and Joan tries not to faint like that kid in Stand By Me. She doesn't reference Stand By Me because Quentin seems like the kind of person to have film school opinions on a Rob Reiner movie.

Quentin brought a blanket. Joan bought a large jug of home-brewed sweet tea. They make out in the shade, and Joan feels unbelievably young, in a childhood she never had, with the kind of boy she would have repudiated during her actual childhood. It feels good to step out of her history, but with the knowledge she's gained from her own.

Which is to say, she still knows how to give a hummer. She eventually gets him naked, gets him worked up, watches blue sparks skitter over sensitive skin. She works his dick slowly, slowly to the back of her throat, until her breath moves around the head. Her throat muscles constrict around it. She hums, she pets his chest, she looks up at him through her eyelashes. All this effort is always, always worth it to see the reactions it writes in their bodies, on their voices. To hear them moan and feel them twitch. She wants that for Quentin.

[pharmacy]

The sweet tea cuts through the smell and feel of murky water. The taste of it on her tongue, the sun licking the lake off them, the blanket against his back and her sides and tits under his palms, it all feels like summer. When she slides down his body, chasing his zadza as it ripples down, he thinks for the first time in a long time about songs with trilling guitars and rolling bass, scratched CDs and sweating, lukewarm beers.

His fingers follow her down, petting through her hair at first and springing away-- "Oh--shhhhit, oh, fuck, Joan." Laying flat, there's too much tension, too much leverage in his hips that he doesn't trust. Quentin props up on one elbow, chest sinking, and gingerly sweeps her hair back from her eyes. "Jesus--careful." Like this isn't expressly what they came here to do.

[poleaxed]

He doesn't need to say it twice. Joan instantly moves off him, but not too far. Her mouth-- already a bit swollen from kissing and sucking-- is an open redness next to his twitching cock, her eyes wide with concern. "Did I hurt you?"

[pharmacy]

"No, jesus, no! Just--" He doesn't even think about drawing his fingertips around the corner of her mouth, tracing back down her jaw to the top of her throat. He'd just been there. He'd just been-- "Sorry, just--you're not fucking around, huh? Sorry, I'll chill. I'm trying to chill. I am. 

"Just be careful." 

[poleaxed]

Joan settles her head on his flat hip and begins, idly, to jerk him off. She likes talking to men when they're hard. They're either more honest, or so dishonest it's comforting. She thinks she knows which one Quentin will be. "Careful about what, Quentin? That your big dick is gonna choke me?"

She turns her head to nip at his hipbone, making it clear-- she hopes-- that she's teasing.

[pharmacy]

"Hey, a person could drown in four inches of water," He snorts, keeps his fingers in her hair, farther down and more boldly twisting and turning (tangling) now that the position is a little lower risk. "That doesn't hurt? You're not--I mean, you're okay?"

[poleaxed]

"Nah. I had this- I guess he was my boyfriend? And he was really into deepthroating porn, so I taught myself how. Only took a month." She moves her hand over his dick, appreciating that he's being patient with it. "It's very hot on my end, so don't think you're the only one having a good time."

[pharmacy]

She gets a flush out of him with that. Quentin's eyebrows raise, lips purse so his breath rushes out slow. "If it's hot for you, I'm--fucking--flying."

[poleaxed]

Her lip curls in a sharp smile. "I could teach you," she says. She adjusts the angle of their bodies, curling herself forward so he can see her touching herself as she touches him. "That'd be hotter."

[pharmacy]

His tongue scrapes over his lower lip, head tilts to follow the angle she shows him. He shifts at the hips, in her hand. "Sure. I'll just--call you the next time I've got a guy with his pants down. I'll just tell him I'm getting coaching."

[poleaxed]

Joan rolls her eyes, and shifts a little closer to him on the grass. She lets go of his dick so she can prop herself up on one arm, letting Quentin pillow his head in the crook of her elbow. Her other hand brushes his jaw, pets his lower lip. "Be more creative."

She pushes two fingers against his mouth, and will move them into his mouth if he'll let her.

[pharmacy]

As Joan slides up his body, Quentin takes the lead he thinks she's giving him, palm following her spine down until it rounds her ass and squeezes. His pinky and ring fingers catch slick off her cleft just a moment before hers split the seam of his lip. His hand stills, brow pinches in puzzlement--and his eyes light up as he catches on.

Quentin's tongue slips under her fingertips, jaw loosens so she can slide back. He's got the very basics, at least!

[poleaxed]

Joan peppers Quentin's face with kisses, going for gentle, relaxing. Her fingers move in and out of his mouth without much depth. "That's good, you've got it. Good boy."

She nips his jaw, sucks his skin. "You're so hot like this. Try'n relax for me. Breath through your nose."

Carefully, tentatively, her fingers press deeper, finding the back of his throat. They retreat almost immediately; all she wants to do is test him.

[pharmacy]

The cradling (of her arm, of her voice and accent going creamy) feels strange enough to have his ears burning, and he takes that deep breath she recommends to cool off. He hums when she retreats, fingers pinching around her ass as he lifts his head insistently. Eager to suck her fingers farther back and prove himself. He can get it--he's not a kid.