“Too much, too much,” he grits out.
Omar turns up the vibration for just a second before hitting theOffbutton.
“You are a sadist,” Anders complains, slumping forward,ignoring the phone on their bedside table. It’s been going crazy for the last several minutes, but…priorities.
Omar gives him a few moments of peace before clenching around the softening cock still inside him. “Habibi, it’s your turn to check the notifications.”
Anders whines, refusing to pull out as he reaches over to grab the fucking phone. Omar puts his hands behind his head, admiring Anders’ body as he squints at the screen.
“You need to get Dr. Kim’s corrective surgery.”
Anders curls his lip. “I’m not letting her put lasers in my eyeballs.”
“That’s not how it’s done these days, and you know it. You’ll be in and out in under an hour, and the healing time is measured in minutes.” Omar emphasizes this with another squeeze. “Besides, if you get it done, I’ll give you a blowjob after.”
Scrunching his nose, Anders thrusts thoughtfully, still unable to make out the words on the screen. “No. Sit on my face.”
“Habibi…”
Anders sets aside the phone and glares at his beloved. “I’ve been dining on that hairy asshole of yours for more than twenty years, my love. Give it to me.”
Omar sighs. “Fine. I don’t have to understand it. Surgery first, and I’ll sit on your face.”
Anders pumps his fist in triumph as he pulls out, then waits for his favorite part: watching his cum drip out of his husband’s ass. Omar’s become more toppy with age, and it is so fun to get him to give in to his bottom side. Cum shot in the eye, his own spend slipping from his lover’s used hole, mingling with all of that luscious dark hair…yum. All in all, an excellent fuck.
“Darling, the phone.”
Anders grumbles, finally reaching for his glasses. He reluctantly picks up the phone again and reads through the messages, then curses.
“That didn’t take long.”
“What didn’t take long?” Omar asks, lazily stroking his spent cock.
“You know Brantley got out this morning, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Looks like Valentine is paying him a visit.”
“Why would he do that?” Omar rolls over and checks the app on his phone. “Shit.”
Anders can’t help but pull aside his husband’s ass cheek, swirling his fingertip around the messy hole. They’ve got the pills and stamina for another round…
“Anders, love, focus. It’s very dangerous for Truett to involve himself in the Whitaker family.”
Letting out a small growl, Anders meets his beloved’s gaze. “Why do I have to focus? I have no qualms with Valentine paying that jackass a visit. Boss said we couldn’t go after the father. He said nothing about the son. Besides, Valentine’s no killer. He’ll probably just rough him up.”
“Splitting hairs, beloved.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to…?” He bunches his fingers together and presses them to his husband’s hole.
“Anders. Now is not the time.”
“But it’s been so long since you’ve taken my fist,” he pouts. “I’m always the hand puppet, never the puppet master.”
“Habibi, I need to be able to walk if there’s an emergency. Besides”—Omar brushes Anders’ questing fingers from his hole and puts his phone in Anders’ face—“our son appears to have purchased a burner vehicle.”
“Are you serious? Why?”
