Behind the Scenes with Jared McKnight and Britain

Diego turned to him, his eyebrows tightly furrowed.

"What do you want from me, a blowjob?" he snapped, his usually soft voice turned sharp.

"Are you offering?" he teased, batting his eyelashes. "I only wanted a handjob, but that works too."

"Shut up," he insisted. "You won't. Say. A word. If you want a handjob, you will stay. One hundred percent. Silent. And you won't touch me, either. At all. If you do, I will rip it off. Are we clear?"

Diego looked into his friend's eyes, lips pursed.

He nodded eagerly.

"I'll be extra quiet if you give me a blowjob."

"No, you won't speak a word," he hissed. "Nothing. You will say. Nothing."

Diego wished that, somewhere, his rational brain would kick in and stop him. But it didn't, and this was worrying. He pulled his pants completely off, but he kept his loose shirt on. He didn't want to feel more exposed than he had to. He moved between Britton's legs, staring at him. It was his last chance to backdown, but it already seemed too late.

He leaned over, running his tongue over the head. He took the head into his mouth, his split tongue cupping beneath. He took more in, acting as though he wasn't shy. His heart was pounding, however, and he just hoped Britton kept his promise.

Britton kept his promise--at least at first. He squirmed slightly as Diego continued, and eventually a moan escaped his lips. His hand hovered near Diego's head as he struggled with the temptation to touch his hair.

Diego ran his tongue all over the lower part of Britton, sucking on the tip and toying with him with both his tongue and his piercing. He would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself.

He moaned louder, and then louder still, finally gripping Diego's shoulder for support.

Diego ignored the hand. It was fine, he figured. Not too intimate. It wasn't like he was touching his hair or moaning his name or anything. It was fine.

He simply hoped Britton finished soon, and to help him along, he took as much as he could into his mouth, sucking urgently.

Indeed, Britton never did scream his name.

"Nancy," he muttered instead as he finished, digging his fingers into Diego's shoulder.

"Fuck...that was good," he panted, grinning again. "Thanks, man."

Diego glared at him.

"I'm going to eat," he replied grumpily.

"Didn't you just get a mouthful?" he teased, guffawing. "But yeah, I could go for some eats too--let's like, grab some grub and put on some dumb TV. Relax after we killed the stage!"

Diego glared daggers at him.

"Actually, why don't you go get food? Since I was...kind enough to help you. I want Chinese."

"Okay, we can order it," he said, searching for his cellphone. "You see where I tossed my jacket?"

"No, you have to go out and get it," he insisted, swallowing.

"Why?" he asked, frowning. "You wanna go for a ride this late?"

"No, no, I want you to go out, on your own, get food, and bring it back," Diego insisted, losing his patience.

"No can do," he said, grinning as he found his jacket. "Either we get it delivered or you come with, bro."

"Why not?" he snapped.

"Because I don't feel like it," he replied, grinning.

"Why not!?" he shouted angrily, his voice cracking. Frustrated, he turned away from Britton. "Next time you need me to suck you off, do it yourself, jackass."

He stroked his chin. "You know, that might just be a good idea--maybe I'll try. But hey man, I'm still thankful--Chinese is totally on me. I just don't wanna put on clothes."

Diego hated Britton sometimes.

"Next time, I'm getting my own room."

"Whoa, man," he said, his smile fading. "Are you okay, or...?"

"I'm going to bed," he grumbled, pulling the blankets up and crawling under them.