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English
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Part 18 of Kinktober 2024
Collections:
Duck Prints Press Kinks-Your-Tober 2024
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Published:
2024-10-18
Words:
1,390
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
64
Kudos:
405
Bookmarks:
15
Hits:
4,333

The pages from my mind are stripped

Summary:

Alex’s fingers pause. “I don’t make you feel obligated, do I?”

“Absolutely not.” He hooks a finger under Alex’s chin, tilting it back so that he can meet Alex’s eyes. “Never once have you made me feel as though it’s expected, or as though it would matter to you in the slightest if I stopped sending them, temporarily or permanently. You are wonderful, Alex. You truly are.”

Or: Henry joins NSFW Twitter. Technically.

Notes:

Today's prompt list was Exhibitionism | Face Sitting | Underwater Sex

Sometimes you send your friends a just... completely mesmerising dick from nsfwtwt and then they're like "okay but that's definitely Henry's dick" and you're like "lol he would never pick that username" and they're like "no but Alex would" and suddenly you're here. (To be clear, I went with a different username to the actual video. Similar vibes, though.)

Dances the line a bit between exhibitionism and exposure kink, but there's a lot of overlap between those two things.

Also, the italics aren't meant to be one conversation on one day, but rather a representation of lots of little discussions over time. There are also a lot of parts of that negotiation that aren't shown here! I just kinda liked the then-and-now structure, so wanted to show... broad strokes. (As it were.)

Title is from The J. Geils Band (truly, how could I resist).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The band is snug around Henry’s balls.

He can see, on his phone screen, the effect that this has—so plump they’re almost swollen, their redness a sharp counterpoint to his pale thighs, even more so with how they’re illuminated by the ring light. His cock is hard, curving over his thigh in anticipation, as though his body knows exactly what it means that Henry has just hit record.

Perhaps it does. God knows, just thinking about it—someone watching him stroke himself, objectifying the size of him, only interested in his cock—gets him hard and aching every time.

“Did you never think about starting an OnlyFans?”

All these months into their relationship, Henry is accustomed to the way Alex weaves in and out of a conversation with days or weeks in between. He knows previous people Alex have dated have gotten annoyed with him, accused him of being so self-centred he expects everyone around him to know what he’s been mulling over before he verbalises it; those people, Henry fervently believes, are bloody cowards. The way Alex’s brain works is brilliant, a source of eternal fascination, and it never takes him long to catch up and to meet Alex where he’s at.

For example: this question. He knows exactly why Alex is asking it, even though it’s been days since Henry confessed just how much the videos he sends Alex are gratifying for himself.

“I hardly need the money, love.” Alex just hums, the tips of his fingers trailing across Henry’s stomach, his lips brushing across one of Henry’s ribs. “And besides, you know what they say—the fastest way to hate something you once loved is to turn it into an obligation.”

Alex’s fingers pause. “I don’t make you feel obligated, do I?”

“Absolutely not.” He hooks a finger under Alex’s chin, tilting it back so that he can meet Alex’s eyes. “Never once have you made me feel as though it’s expected, or as though it would matter to you in the slightest if I stopped sending them, temporarily or permanently. You are wonderful, Alex. You truly are.”

Alex grins, the dimple in his chin doing what it always does—making Henry want to do terrible, filthy things to the face it sits on. “You’re okay too, I guess.”

“Oh, please, stop, all the overwhelming praise will go right to my head.” He flicks Alex on the nose, laughing when Alex crinkles it in annoyance. “Besides, it’s not—the whole appeal was that it was out of my control.”

“Hmm. Fair enough.” Alex kisses him on the shoulder, settling back into the crook of Henry’s arm.

Henry’s hand is slick with lube. Too much lube, perhaps, except that he knows the obscene sound it’s making as he slides his hand up and down will be picked up by the microphone, a pornographic symphony revealing just how much Henry loves this. He closes his eyes and thinks of Alex’s face when he receives this later—sometimes he calls and curses Henry out for turning him on in public, other times the first Henry knows he’s watched it is when he receives a voice note of Alex moaning, gasping Henry’s name as he matches Henry stroke for stroke.

“Did you know there’s a huge not-safe-for-work side to Twitter?”

Henry raises an eyebrow as he leans back against the counter, bringing the steaming cup of Earl Grey to his lips. “I think you mean X, love.”

Alex snorts. “My abuela called Xfinity Comcast until the day she died, and everyone knew what she was talking about. It’s my duty as a Diaz to carry on that tradition.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s the reason, and not at all your fervent desire to eat the rich.”

Alex’s grin turns positively feral. “I mean, I did that this—”

“Yes, all right, I walked right into that one.” At Alex’s shrug, Henry continues: “And no, I didn’t know that about Twitter specifically, but I’m generally familiar with human nature and social media, so it doesn’t particularly surprise me.”

“Yeah.” Alex steps forward until his arms are bracketing Henry’s body, his breath ghosting across Henry’s lips. “Anyone with a backlog of videos could create an account, get those videos shared around, have a whole bunch of people getting off to them at any given time.”

Henry’s cock stirs in his jeans, and he has to will his voice not to shake. “While that does have a certain appeal, running a Twitter account isn’t exactly what I—”

“Who said anything about you?”

There’s something Henry isn’t quite understanding, something tantalising in Alex’s expression. “Then what are you saying?”

“Seems to me I’ve got all these videos of you, baby.”

Henry blinks. Freezes. There’s a sensation in his chest not unlike a key being slotted into a lock and turned very, very slowly.

“It’s like consensual non-consent, right? Or blackmail kink?” Alex takes half a step back, his expression focused and serious. “Like, yeah, I’m running the account, I’m not telling you what I’m posting and when, and the game is that you’re sending your loving boyfriend these videos and he’s exposing your dick to the whole internet. But there are guard rails, and you’re in control—you can call it off any time, obviously—and seriously, babe, tell me to shut the fuck up and I’ll forget I ever thought of it, I just think you deserve the fucking world and also to have all your wildest fantasies indulged, okay, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to—”

Henry has just enough presence of mind to put his mug back on the counter; he needs both hands to haul Alex in, kissing him breathless.

Christ, Henry feels good.

He would, of course, prefer it if it were Alex. Alex’s hand, his mouth, his tight hole gripping Henry’s cock as he sinks down. But of course, Alex is precisely who this is for. Alex will to watch this later, and he’ll get himself off to Henry’s pleasure. Alex will watch, avid, as Henry tightens his fist, picks up his pace, bucks his hips up into the air as though he’s greedy for it. He’ll watch, and Henry will never know unless Alex tells him.

Henry lets himself moan. The microphone will pick that up, too.

“This was a terrible mistake.”

Alex nods, resolute, and holds out his hand. “Okay. I’ll delete all the posts first, then the account.”

“No, that’s not—” Henry pulls the phone away before Alex can snatch it from him. “I don’t want you to delete the account, darling. This is…” He isn’t sure he has the words, but he soldiers on. “Perfect. You’re perfect, Alex, you’re so good to me.” Alex’s whole face relaxes, his eyes going a little hazy the way they always do when Henry praises him. “It’s just—the account name?”

“Oh!” Alex grins, tongue poking out between his teeth. “It’s surprisingly hard to come up with a username that hasn’t been taken. Besides, I know you’re not identifiable in any of these, but having a username that is so obviously something you’d never pick also throws the scent off, you know? After all, as far as my followers know, you’re the one running the account.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a not-insignificant contingent of ex-Oxford students who could, in fact, identify me from my cock alone.” Alex’s head tilts to the side at this, wearing that same bright-eyed, intrigued expression he has every time Henry’s university exploits come up. “It’s just… it’s something of an affront to the English language, don’t you think?”

“Nah.” Alex finally grabs the phone, smirking. “BiggThiccDicc. It suits you.”

“That might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Henry’s going to come.

He can feel it—the way his balls draw up, fighting the constriction from the band; the heat unfurling in his belly. He’s going to come, on camera, and he’ll never know who’s watching. His body, his pleasure, his orgasm, all for someone else’s gratification—

A laugh spills over Henry’s lips as come spills over his fist, warmth dripping down his knuckles, some landing on his thigh as he slumps back in his seat, sucking in a shuddering breath.

Alex will enjoy the show, Henry knows. After that… who knows what will become of the video.

Notes:

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