R-18: VICTORY BLOW

“No! Not again!” Blake’s voice cracked with frustration as the defeat screen lit up, mocking him with rainbow-colored confetti and that damn celebratory jingle. He stared blankly at the TV, controller slack in his hands, legs stretched out on the floor of Reid’s room.

Another loss. Back-to-back. Not even close this time.

“Looks like I won again,” Reid said, his voice low and annoyingly smug, like he was savoring every second of Blake’s failure.

Blake groaned and flopped backward with a dramatic exhale, the worn carpet itching his neck. He didn’t dare open his eyes, he didn’t have to. He could feel Reid’s smirk like heat on his skin.

It made his chest burn. Not with rage. Not just rage.

That smirk did things to him. Dangerous things. It curled at the edge of Reid’s lips like a promise. And his eyes—God, those eyes. Green like envy, mischief, springtime, and every bad decision Blake wanted to make all at once.

Blake pressed his palms over his eyes, trying to block out the image. But his brain was a traitor.

It painted pictures anyway, of Reid grabbing him by the collar, shutting him up with a kiss, and biting that smirk right off his lips.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Reid said, casual as ever. “Next round—if you lose, you suck me off.”

Blake sat up like he’d been electrocuted. His face flushed crimson. His heart punched against his ribs.

This was it. The boundary he'd been trying not to look at, let alone cross. But Reid had just kicked the damn door down like it was nothing.

His voice came out tight. “A-And if I win?”

Reid grinned. “Then I’ll suck you off. Fair’s fair.” He winked, flipping his controller up with the confidence of someone who knew he wouldn’t lose.

Blake’s hands trembled as he grabbed his own controller. He stared down at the buttons like they might betray him. He needed to win. Had to win. Not because of pride. But because if Reid touched him like that, if he lost, there’d be no turning back.

The match started. Every drift, every item box, every damn banana peel was life or death. Blake's concentration frayed under the weight of Reid’s quiet laughter, the sideways glances, the subtle flex of his fingers on the analog stick.

Thirty minutes later, the screen declared it. Reid. Winner. Again.

Blake tossed the controller like it was poisoned. “You cheated.”

Reid raised an eyebrow, reclining lazily on his bed. “I’m just better.”

Blake scowled, heading for the door, but halted when a warm hand wrapped gently around his wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Reid’s voice dropped, suddenly softer, but heavy. Weighted with something Blake didn’t recognize—anticipation, maybe. Or restraint.

Blake turned. The tension snapped tight between them like a wire. Their eyes met, green fire and blue storm, and the silence became deafening.

Then Reid kissed him.

Soft at first. Testing. But Blake melted fast, his mouth opening with a hunger that shocked him. The kiss deepened, slow and hot, until he couldn’t breathe without tasting Reid. Hands tangled in shirts. Hips brushed. Heat ignited.

Blake pulled back, panting, lips tingling. Reid’s eyes searched his face.

And then, without a word, Blake straddled him.

Blake’s fingers were shaky, reverent, tracing the line of Reid’s jaw, then down his chest. Every breath felt louder than the world.

Blake sank to his knees like it was second nature, but in truth, it felt like he was giving in, for the first time, and maybe for good. His palms pressed against Reid’s thighs as he settled between them, heart pounding like a trapped bird in his chest. The way Reid looked down at him, all cocky and composed, made heat rush straight to his gut.

“I meant it as a joke,” Reid said, eyes scanning Blake’s flushed face. His voice was lighter than it should’ve been.

“I didn’t,” Blake whispered. His voice was already breathless.

Reid blinked.

“I want this,” Blake added, quieter now, more like a confession.

That was the real loss. And he’d do it again.

Reid let out a shaky exhale, his cóck already hard, twitching against the waistband of his sweats. Blake reached up, fingertips trembling just slightly as he tugged them down. When Reid’s cóck sprang free, Blake’s breath caught—he didn’t even try to hide how desperate he was for it.

He wrapped a hand around the base, warm and firm and thick in his grip. His lips parted instinctively.

He started with a kiss. Just a gentle press of his mouth to the flushed, leaking tip like it was sacred. Then another, softer, slower then a kitten lick, collecting the drop of precum with the tip of his tongue. He moaned at the taste like it was the first bite of something forbidden and addictive.

Reid’s fingers tightened in the sheets beside him. “Shit, Blake…”

Blake looked up at him, eyes wide and dark, pupils blown. He needed this, not just to satisfy Reid, but to feel useful, to be claimed, to give in to the ache he’d been nursing for too long.

He slid the head into his mouth and sucked gently, cheeks hollowing as he eased further down. His mouth was hot, wet, and needy, taking him deeper inch by inch until he choked slightly, but didn’t pull away. His fingers clung to Reid’s thighs for support as he forced himself to relax, swallowing around the thick length until he could feel the head press against the back of his throat.

Reid cursed under his breath, his hand finding Blake’s hair, light at first, but tightening as Blake bobbed his head slowly, lavishing him with his tongue. He wasn’t in control. Not even close. His only goal was to please.

And fvck, he loved it.

His spit dripped down his chin, messy and slick as he took Reid over and over again, letting him use his mouth however he wanted. Every gag, every moan, every desperate sound only made him harder in his own boxers. His cóck was leaking, untouched, trapped against his stomach, begging for friction, but Blake ignored it. He didn't need to be touched. He just needed Reid to fall apart in his mouth.

Reid groaned and let his hips rock gently upward. Blake took it, let himself be fucked into, one hand wrapped around Reid’s base while the other braced the floor.

“You’re so fvcking pretty like this,” Reid murmured, voice strained. “God, look at you…”

Blake whimpered around him, eyes fluttering shut. That praise, low, raw, just on the edge of falling apart set something off inside him. His tongue flattened, sucking harder, faster. Every moan from Reid lit up his chest with pride. With purpose.

Reid’s thighs tensed.

“Gonna—Blake, I’m gonna—fvck—”

Blake didn’t stop.

He welcomed it. Felt the first pulse, then the rush of Reid’s orgasm fill his mouth—hot, thick, salty. He swallowed instinctively, messily, letting it coat his throat. His lips stayed wrapped around him, milking every last drop as Reid shuddered, gasping his name.

When Blake finally pulled off, his lips were red and swollen, chin wet with spit and cum. He looked ruined.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still panting. His eyes flicked up again, needy and vulnerable.

“Did I… do good?” he asked, voice small, uncertain.

Reid looked like he was on the verge of collapsing.

He pulled Blake up and into his arms, kissing the corner of his mouth like he was fragile.

“You did perfect,” he said hoarsely. “Let's bet more often.”