I hold on and don’t hold back, thrusting as deep as I can, feeling his chin brush against my balls at the bottom of every thrust.
Elliot likes being used hard. There’s something about him thatneedsit rough.
I tighten my grip in his hair and damn near choke him on my cock. He’s good, though. Used to taking it from Leo, and Leo’s bigger than I am.
I want to get rougher with him but I’m already close to the edge.
It’s been a long damn time for me, and I didn’t realize exactly how needy my body was until now.
“Take it, boy,” I grit out. Then my balls tighten and he’s swallowing, and swallowing, as pleasure spirals through me. Even after I relax and start stroking his hair, he holds my softening cock in his mouth, waiting on me.
Waiting.
There’s a lot of waiting involved in being part of Elliot’s private world.
I coax him back up and see his cock’s hard.
While orgasm control and restriction will feature greatly as part of our dynamic, this morning, I want to make him come.
I flip him onto his back and sit up so I can climb between his thighs and go to town. I’ll need to invest in rope or cuffs for him.
I’d borrow Leo’s, but I don’t want to go to his place and alert him I’m back. Disarming his alarm—if he hasn’t changed the code or the locks—will send him an alert.
I’m not ready for that confrontation.
Then again, it’d be better if I have my own set of cuffs and a collar for Elliot. One that I’ve bought just for him. If we’re building this from the ground up, it needs to beus.
I add those items to my mental shopping list.
Isn’t a lie to say I want Elliot completely invested in me before Leo’s return. Then there’s less chance of Elliot sending me away. Sure, he told me he won’t, but there are no guarantees.
Right now, frankly,Ineed this time with Elliot. After all those years with Leo, the past several months alone have been torture in an unexpected way—I’ve longed for intimate human contact. I mean, I knew it’d hurt to walk away from him.
Except I never factored I would be unable to heal from it, and that my emotional wounds would still feel nearly as raw and painful six months later.
Doing this for Elliot means a lot of work, and a high-pressure scenario, but I’m tired of being alone and feeling like what I’m doing doesn’t really matter one fucking bit in the greater scheme of things.
Thismatters.
Elliot matters.
I don’t care that no one knows what I’m really doing for Elliot except a very close-knit group of people. I’m not doing this for glory. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do and feels good to my soul.
And the man’s fuckinghawwt, so it’s not exactly a hardship.
I go down on him and take my time, savoring his taste and the feel of his flesh in my mouth. I want to memorize him and be able to close my eyes and exactly recall every curve and dip and fold.
After a few minutes, however, I notice there’s not more…progress. He’s stiff, but not reallyhard.
Then it hits me.
I hook my arms under his legs and dig my fingernails into the tops of his thighs, which makes his cock harden and twitch in my mouth and draws a needy moan from him.
There we go.
That’s what Elliot needed. I keep my nails dug in, squeezing, making it hurt. Within minutes, I’m sucking a climax out of him and returning to lie next to him with him draped across my chest again.
At least I caught a glimpse of the time. It’s not even nine yet.
