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“I call it… the vibrotron,” said Djura.
There was a word for the emotion Alfred was feeling, a specific word, but he couldn’t recall it at the moment. Not while that… thing… was staring him in the face. It was cylindrical, shaped almost like a bullet, actually, and a stark shade of blue. Djura held it in his hand with the tip pointed upwards, as though the thing might rocket into the ceiling at any moment.
“Tell me where that thing is going,” Alfred said. He was sitting on the bed, naked, but covering himself chastely with the sheet.
“Don’t play coy! We both know you’re very familiar with the concept of sticking something in your ass.”
Though he’d participated in such an act countless times, Alfred still went red in the cheeks at the mere suggestion. Trepidation, he thought suddenly. Trepidation is the word.
“I’m really not sure about this,” he said.
Djura, who was also naked (and had been as soon as the situation even hinted it was appropriate), held the so-called vibrotron next to his own erect member. “See? Nothing you haven’t taken before.”
“It looks cold.”
“It’ll warm up with contact.”
“Why not just stick your, ah, parts in me, then?”
It was a valid question, but at hand was an equally valid answer. Djura flipped a small switch and sent the toy into a nearly uncontrollable vibrate; up until that point, Alfred hadn’t been so sure. Now he had a certain interested glimmer in his eye.
“Oh,” he said. “Gracious.”
“Gracious indeed.” Djura waved the thing in Alfred’s direction, talking over the buzzing. “You may have the exuberance of youth, but I have wisdom that comes with age. Trust me on this matter.”
Alfred pursed his lips, thinking only briefly, then threw back the sheets. “Very well,” he said stoically, as though he were a hero about to enter a deadly arena. “You may let loose this terrible thing upon my tender body.”
Djura chuckled, twirling an outstretched finger, signaling to Alfred that he should flip over. The man did so obediently, feet on the floor, upper half bent over the bed. Positioning himself just so, Djura slid one hand up Alfred’s back, to his shoulders, and nearly dropped the toy on the floor when he realized he had almost forgotten a most important accoutrement. He flipped the switch, tossed it on the bed, and went rooting around in a bedside table’s drawer.
“Almost forgot,” he muttered, and Alfred looked back at him, frowning.
“A horrifying mistake. And also your last.”
“Ha ha, yes, save your cute threats for later,” said Djura. He had squeezed something viscous onto his fingers, which he rubbed together before pressing them to Alfred’s–
“Oh!” Alfred cried. “Cold!”
“Sorry,” said Djura. He was now working the gel onto the vibrotron.
“You always do that,” complained Alfred.
Djura only smiled, positioning himself anew and putting a hand to the back of Alfred’s neck to guide his head down and his ass up. For such a large man, he was very pliable in the right situations. The vibrotron’s tip was very nearly at its mark when Alfred spoke up again.
“How do you find time to create these things?”
“One makes time for their hobbies.”
To Alfred it was no leap of logic to think that, somewhere, there was a whole back room full of these things.
Djura slipped it in slowly, some of it, not all, and Alfred gasped. They both held still as statues for a moment, Alfred waiting for the sensation to sink in – in more than one way – and Djura waiting to see if the boy would throw him out of the bedroom window. The toy buzzed happily on. Then Alfred turned his head far as he could, looking at Djura over a shoulder, and whispered, “Gods. What are you waiting for? All the way.”
“With pleasure,” Djura murmured, and he buried the jittering thing even deeper into Alfred’s rear. “Gods, please,” he said, and when Djura thrusted with enthusiasm Alfred repeated his appeal to the powers that be in a slightly higher octave. But there were no gods listening, only Djura, and he seemed to be quite pleased indeed. The younger man leaned further into the sheets and bit the first finger on his right hand to staunch any cries – a clear signal of the incoming storm.
Djura thrust the toy in just the right way, a technique he had honed over many sleepless, sweaty nights, and was rewarded with another cry from Alfred. Thick, white ropes of emission spread across the sheets and the floor and every which way, it seemed, until finally the cock was pulsing and red at the tip and so, so tender. Djura flicked the toy’s switch off immediately and withdrew it, beaming somewhat proudly.
“Well?!” he said, nearly shouting. He held the toy in his hand like a trophy.
Alfred rolled onto his back, slapped a hand to his forehead, and sighed. He looked a mix between exhausted and thoroughly satisfied. “Um,” he said. “I don’t really know where to start.”
“That was quick,” said Djura, not unkindly.
“Don’t,” Alfred said, cheeks flushing.
“Please. That wasn’t an admonishment of your talents, it was a bolstering of my own. Now–” Djura tossed the vibe haphazardly onto the bed, right into Alfred’s mess. “How about you pay attention to this old cock, hm?”