Ethan didn’t stop there. He kept up the slow, careful attention, mouth sucking at the tip, tongue rolling under the head, hand pumping the shaft with expert rhythm. “You like that, don’t you,” Ethan said, voice low and filthy. “You love it when a man gets on his knees for you. Makes you feel powerful.”
Cole groaned. “Fuck yes.”
Ethan looked up at him, grinned, then opened wide as he wrapped his lips around the head and slid down, inch by inch, deeper than before—he had Cole seeing stars. The warm, wet, tightness—the way Ethan moaned around him—it was a kind of pleasure Cole had never experienced or even let himself imagine, not even in secret.
He tried to pull back, tried to slow it down, but Ethan held him steady, keeping his hand at the base, twisting just enough to make Cole shudder. He used both hands, milking the cock while his mouth teased the head, flicking the sensitive ridge, working the foreskin up and down before he bobbed his head lower, taking the cock fully into his throat and Cole’s vision started to pixelate at the edges. His toes curled in his boots. He heard the thump of his own heart, the way it hammered in his ears, and he realized he was panting, sucking in air like a drowning man.
“God, you’re close already,” Ethan said, looking up with a wild, happy grin. “I love it.”
Cole nodded, unable to form words.
Ethan kept at it, alternating deep sucks with slow, wet strokes. He looked up at Cole, green eyes locked on blue, and said, “I want you to feed it to me. I want to swallow every drop.”
Cole felt his composure snap. His hips jerked forward. Ethan took it, letting the cock drive deeper into his throat, lips sealing tight around the shaft.
The sight of Ethan on his knees, hair wild and face flushed, made everything inside Cole melt and burn at the same time. The need to dominate, to be taken care of, to be ruined—he’d never known it could feel like this.
He grabbed Ethan by the hair, “You’re my bitch now,” he said, surprised by the sound of his own voice.
Ethan moaned around the cock, the vibration shooting through Cole’s body.
The sensation built to an unbearable pitch. Cole thrust harder, using Ethan’s mouth, and Ethan let him, opening wide, taking it deeper with every pump.
Cole's fingers tightened in Ethan's hair. "Fucking cocksucker," Cole growled, "You’re my little cum-hungry slut. That's all you are now—my personal cumdump.” His breath came in ragged gasps, each thrust deeper than the last. The words tumbled from his lips, raw and unfiltered, as if he were losing the last of his control, “You're just a hole for me to use, aren't you? Look at how fucking desperate you are for it. I own your throat now." He thrust deeper, watching Ethan's eyes water. "Take it all like the bitch you are. You are my bitch, my slut, who is desperate for my cock down your throat and you fucking love it, don't you? You love choking on my cock, begging for my cum like that cum-hungry slut you are."
Ethan looked up, tears running down his face, spit dripping from his chin. He nodded, mouth full, cock buried all the way to the root.
Cole lost it. He started fucking Ethan’s face and throat, every thrust more desperate than the last. The wet, sloppy sounds echoed in the night. The pleasure was raw and primal.
Ethan choked, gagged, but never let gave up. He took it, again and again, pulling him even deeper, forcing every last inch down his throat.
It was too much. Cole felt the orgasm building from somewhere deeper than he'd ever known possible—not just in his cock or his balls but in his very core, in places he'd kept locked away his whole life. This wasn't just release—this was liberation, every repressed fantasy crystallizing into the most intense pleasure he had ever felt, decades of denied truth surged through him. His entire body trembled with the knowledge that he was about to explode harder than he ever had.
He tried to warn Ethan, but all that came out was a strangled growl. “I’m gonna—”
Cole shoved Ethan's head down to the balls, forcing his throbbing cock deep into the back of Ethan's throat. The sensation overwhelmed him as he came hard, blasting thick ropes of cum straight down the back of Ethan's throat. Ethan eagerly kept sucking and swallowing every drop. Cole's vision blurred. He felt himself teetering on the edge, as if he might lose consciousness from the intensity of it all.
When it was finally over, Ethan let Cole’s cock slip out of his mouth as he wiped the bits of left over spit off his face, then looked up with a smile so tender Cole wanted to cry.
“Thank you,” Ethan breathed, his voice thick with emotion, “Thank you for letting me pleasure you like that. It was everything I’ve ever wanted, and it felt incredible to finally be close to you.” He paused, gazing into Cole’s eyes, “And thank you for that delicious, big load of cum. It was beyond anything I could have imagined. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”
Cole staggered back. The rush of endorphins faded fast, replaced by the worst kind of clarity.
He looked down at Ethan—face wet with tears—and felt the old familiar sting of shame rise back up and choke him.
The euphoria vanished—replaced by a crushing weight in his chest. Every filthy word he'd spoken echoed back at him now, mocking him. His father's voice thundered in his head: "No son of mine." The pleasure that had coursed through his veins moments ago curdled into something toxic. The ranch, the legacy, everything he'd built his identity around seemed to crumble beneath him. Cole's stomach lurched. This wasn't him—couldn't be him—yet the evidence was right there, on his knees, looking up with those goddamn green eyes. He'd crossed the line he'd spent his entire life defending, and worse—he'd loved everysecond of it. Cole's chest tightened until he could barely breathe, trapped between the undeniable pleasure he'd just experienced and a lifetime of carefully constructed walls.
He'd lost control, lost himself, and the terrifying part was how right it had felt in the moment. Now he felt hollowed out, defeated by his own desires, a stranger to himself. The truth of who he was stood before him, undeniable now, and he couldn't bear to face it. His hands trembled as the war inside him reached its breaking point.
"I'm sorry," Cole muttered, barely audible.
Ethan reached for him, but Cole jerked away. He fumbled his jeans back up, zipped and buttoned with trembling hands, and walked away before Ethan could say another word.
He walked. Then ran.
The meadow was all blur and color, a smudge of purple and gold under the bruised sky. Cole ran until his lungs seized, until the pulse in his head drowned out everything else.
He collapsed in the wildflowers, gasping for air. The cold bit at him, but it was nothing compared to what was inside.
