Sick's First Hit
folder
S through Z › Trainspotting
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,324
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Trainspotting
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,324
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Trainspotting, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
You Belong to Me
I feel as if I’ve been struck by lightning. There was no possible way I could be more aroused. He slicks my dick with a mix of what is most likely my precum, his spunk, and our sweat. My forehead feels like it’s about to burst.
“Simon… what are you…”
His tongue is in my ear as he starts to cup my balls with one hand, the other slipping down between my arse-cheeks.
The doss fucker. He must’ve done this before, he must’ve, because his fingertips are pushing up inside of me like he’s done this about a thousand times. With blokes? Or maybe, it was the burds that let him, burds that just couldn’t resist the bastard’s lackluster charm and let him ride their arses until sunrise. I think about Simon riding arses and I get vertigo. I feel his finger jam up inside me and I get even dizzier, and I want him even more.
I know it’s going to hurt but at this point I’m invincible. Simon’s breath is hasty and simpering in my ear and I’ve removed my hand from my dick, using it to hoist myself off the floor and into his lap, and he’s got his fist tight around me. His hard-on is right up against my thigh.
I’m Superman. I’m James Bond. I’m Iggy fuckin' Pop. Nothing can stop me.
I spit unceremoniously into my hand and shove my fingers up my arse, where Sick Boy’s have already taken refuge, twisting and turning inside of me in such a manner that when he hooks his index finger eastwards, I shiver and bounce on his lap like a schoolboy. The pain is almost immediately forgotten when I feel the slick head of his dick rubbing insistently against my balls.
“I can’t wait much longer, Marky…”
And that’s it. I pull his wrist away and I position myself and I drop down onto his thighs with an extravagant cry. I would’ve been self-conscious about the absurd pitch of the sound, but it is echoed with a helpless wail from Simon as all 9 or so inches of his prick gets buried deep in my innards, and that makes the embarrassment that is sure to follow in the morning that much smaller of a price to pay, for the sinister and perverse satisfaction I am experiencing at this very moment.
Fuck condoms. We’ve shared needles, we’ve shared burds. A little bit of plastic between us isn’t going to save us from the HIV if any of us has got it.
The pain is crawling up my limbs like fire, but I grit my teeth and push the sensation into the deep recesses of my porous brain. I lift myself up, slowly, and choke back a carnal scream as I feel his skin pulling against me, a blast of incredible friction, like my whole arse is about to burst into flames. He huffs though, and he whimpers, and when he says: “OhholyfuckinghellRentonthisfeelssofuckinggood” I sit all the way down and then I do it again, the skin on the back of my neck prickling
and my skin breaking out in goosebumps
when he moans,
/really/ moans.
“Simon… what are you…”
His tongue is in my ear as he starts to cup my balls with one hand, the other slipping down between my arse-cheeks.
The doss fucker. He must’ve done this before, he must’ve, because his fingertips are pushing up inside of me like he’s done this about a thousand times. With blokes? Or maybe, it was the burds that let him, burds that just couldn’t resist the bastard’s lackluster charm and let him ride their arses until sunrise. I think about Simon riding arses and I get vertigo. I feel his finger jam up inside me and I get even dizzier, and I want him even more.
I know it’s going to hurt but at this point I’m invincible. Simon’s breath is hasty and simpering in my ear and I’ve removed my hand from my dick, using it to hoist myself off the floor and into his lap, and he’s got his fist tight around me. His hard-on is right up against my thigh.
I’m Superman. I’m James Bond. I’m Iggy fuckin' Pop. Nothing can stop me.
I spit unceremoniously into my hand and shove my fingers up my arse, where Sick Boy’s have already taken refuge, twisting and turning inside of me in such a manner that when he hooks his index finger eastwards, I shiver and bounce on his lap like a schoolboy. The pain is almost immediately forgotten when I feel the slick head of his dick rubbing insistently against my balls.
“I can’t wait much longer, Marky…”
And that’s it. I pull his wrist away and I position myself and I drop down onto his thighs with an extravagant cry. I would’ve been self-conscious about the absurd pitch of the sound, but it is echoed with a helpless wail from Simon as all 9 or so inches of his prick gets buried deep in my innards, and that makes the embarrassment that is sure to follow in the morning that much smaller of a price to pay, for the sinister and perverse satisfaction I am experiencing at this very moment.
Fuck condoms. We’ve shared needles, we’ve shared burds. A little bit of plastic between us isn’t going to save us from the HIV if any of us has got it.
The pain is crawling up my limbs like fire, but I grit my teeth and push the sensation into the deep recesses of my porous brain. I lift myself up, slowly, and choke back a carnal scream as I feel his skin pulling against me, a blast of incredible friction, like my whole arse is about to burst into flames. He huffs though, and he whimpers, and when he says: “OhholyfuckinghellRentonthisfeelssofuckinggood” I sit all the way down and then I do it again, the skin on the back of my neck prickling
and my skin breaking out in goosebumps
when he moans,
/really/ moans.