“Oh, Roger… you already are.” Mickey laughed, tracing the outline of his own handprints as he parted Roger’s cheeks. He pushed up against his wet hole, thrusting in to the hilt. “Goddamn!”
Roger groaned, gasping sharply as Mickey began pounding into him. “Fuck! Master! Yes!”
Mickey had to concentrate on holding off or he was gonna bust on the spot. The inviting grip of Roger’s hole was pulling him in deep, and every slam was pure heaven.
Roger lifted up his ass, trying to rock back. “Fuck! God, yes. Just like that, just like that.”
Mickey fucked him hard, and their breath was already fogging up the back windows. Growling ferociously, he let his legs and hips do the work, drilling Roger’s body down into the seat.
“Fuck, yeah,” Mickey snarled passionately. “I don’t care who you fuck! Fuck a million guys, I don’t give a fuck! Nobody else can fuck you like I can. Mm, fuckin’ no one!”
“Only you, master,” Roger whimpered, sobbing against the leather. “Ah, fuck! Only you fuck me so good. Just you!”
Mickey pressed his body down until he was completely flush against Roger, hissing in his ear, “When they fucked you, did you think of me? Did you wish it was me inside of you?”
“Yes, sir,” Roger whispered, trying to turn his head back to look at Mickey. “They were never enough… no matter how many… they weren’t enough.”
“How many?” Mickey pushed in as far as he could, grinding slowly.
“Master, mmm…”
“Tell me how many. What, two? Three?”
Roger closed his eyes. “Seven, sir.”
“Oh, you fuckin’slut.” Mickey reared his hips back and slammed into Roger as hard as he could. He fucked him without mercy, their bodies crashing together violently. The car began to rock, its wobble fueled by Mickey’s furious hips.
Roger screamed and grunted, and his lips parted in absolute bliss. He clawed at the seats, letting Mickey fuck him as brutally as he wanted. He shouted when Mickey bowed his head and roughly bit his shoulder. “Oh, fuck!”
Mickey clamped down on the bruise and sucked, determined to cover it with his own mark. He wanted everyone to see who Roger belonged to. Seven or seven fuckin’ hundred, it didn’t matter.
Roger Lorre was his.
Mickey kept thrusting, but his thighs were burning and he couldn’t get good leverage in the cramped backseat. He slowed, sliding his hand down Roger’s arm and tangling their fingers together. His thrusts were still hard, but he was taking his time, pushing in deep and slow.
Roger grunted when Mickey bottomed out inside of him, and he squeezed Mickey’s hand. “Fuck… I… I missed you, master.”
Mickey kissed the side of Roger’s face, his ear, sighing breathlessly, “I missed you too.”
“I’m yours, master. Always. I’m all yours.”
“Mine.” Mickey mouthed along Roger’s throat and jaw, the intensity no longer fueled by rage but by something deeper.
Roger was an itch he couldn’t scratch away, a fucking splinter stuck under his skin he couldn’t dig out no matter how hard he tried. Even knowing Roger had sought out other men, his desire wasn’t diluted in the slightest.
In a strangely maddening way, it made him want Roger even more.
Roger was crying out from every adoring slam, tilting his hips up to perfect the angle. He dragged Mickey’s hand to his mouth, and he kissed and sucked at his fingers.
Mickey slid his thumb over Roger’s lower lip, kissing his cheek, picking up the pace once more. “Fuck, gettin’ close…”
“Come on, master.” Roger’s tongue flicked out over Mickey’s knuckles. “Get that fuckin’ nut. Fill me the fuck up.”
Mickey hammered Roger’s body mercilessly, and he could feel the singular pulse in the head of his dick as he came. He roared, spilling everything he had deep inside Roger’s ass. Every pulse was hot, the silky clench of Roger’s body around him making every shiver more intense.
“I can feel you,” Roger whimpered. “Fuck, yes… give me every fuckin’ drop.”
“There you go,” Mickey soothed, rocking his hips slowly, loving how slippery slick Roger was now with his cum. “All nice and full.”
