On Sight • NBAVONDURK

3: Devil's Tango

After the Show pt. 2

Kentrell

The kiss is erotic and sultry. It's a wet dream. Shivering as utter pleasure invades his body and has him writhing and arching his back off the wall like the needy, desperate whore he was.

Honestly, if this was any other nigga he wouldn't be uncomfortably hard in his Calvin Klein's. But this was Lil Durk! Lil Durk was kissing him! Lil Durk's warm fingertips were slipping under his tee shirt and making their way up and down his sides. The slight touch drives him mad and eggs on his hormones even more. All this as Kentrell willingly succumbs to his dominance, melts under his control and suckles Durk's pink muscle in a downright side of overall submission.

Soon Kentrell is mewing, whimpering and groaning in need and want. His erection is so embarrassingly obvious but he can't care long enough to feel shame.

Lungs burning, Kentrell turns his head to break the kiss and pant breathlessly against Durk's cheek. "T-touch meh! Pl- oooh!" He coos out, almost moans out; that has him a little embarrassed. Durk's fingers took him by surprise when they suddenly began tweaking one of his rock hard nipples. Let's just say.. his nipples are sensitive.

Durk chuckles in a cocky way. "What? You said touch you ain't you? So 'm just listenin' 'n' touchin'." The mock innocence in his tone has Kentrell weak, he can see it. It strokes his ego. He licks their combined saliva off his lips. Kentrell's lips tasted like weed and sweet mint chewing gum. The other has his lower lip drawn into his mouth, his hazel eyes are half past lidded, his head is tinted to the side and he's staring Durk down as if he's made of water and he's been trapped in the Sahara for weeks. Something about it just makes something click down in the core of Durk's body. His manhood throbs awake and he's never been good at being teased. Nor has he ever had even an ounce of self control when it comes to.. anything really. Scooping Kentrell in his arms, he quickly whisks him away to the couch.

This has Kentrell excited! It's been too long since he's had sex on a couch! After dropping Kentrell off, Durk goes to lock the door this time. He'd die of embarrassment if anyone caught him fucking his number one opp backstage in a dressing room. He's street cred would be gone. The trenches would laugh at him, the robber wouldn't respect him anymore, the killers wouldn't slide for him anymore. His fans would turn their backs on him.

His life would be ruined basically. And no bussy, nor pussy for that manner- yes, including India's, on this Earth was worth that.

When he turns around, Kentrell is off the couch. His shoes are neatly beside the nearby wall. His jean jacket is on the chair as is his shirt and belt. Instead of teasing him over his eagerness, he steps up to hug him from behind and start kissing on his neck and sucking his ear lobe. Kentrell just melts in the lighter's arms and Durk would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy that. His hands reach down and gently knock the other's away. He himself unbuttons Kentrell's jeans and glides the zipper down the track. He hooks his fingers in between denim and underwear. A little wiggling while Kentrell shims his hugs and they start to fall down.

When Kentrell bends to guide his ankles and feet free from the fabric, he unknowingly shoves his ass against Durk's crotch. Both males groan for this. With the older taking his hips in hand and making them rub against his erection. Because again, Durk can't stand to wait for touch, he's impatient as hell, no self control and he just has to feel something against his dick.

Kentrell bites his lip, giving his hips a teasing little wiggle. Which Durk awards with a shift pop to his hip.

"Fuckin' dead that shit." Durk warns with a growl so deep and husky that it has Kentrell whimpering in response.