"Breathe," I murmur, stroking him slowly from root to tip. His skin is hot, silky smooth over steel. "Just breathe and feel."
"I can't...this is..." He's panting now, his hips moving in small, aborted thrusts.
"Shh." My thumb drags over the head of his cock, collecting every drop, and I bring it to my tongue for a slow, exaggerated lick. He’s giving me exactly what I want. The texture, the heat, it's intoxicating.
I stroke him with long, firm pulls, watching his face contort with pleasure. He's fighting it. Fighting the need to surrender completely.
"Let go," I whisper. "Stop fighting and just let go."
"Can't...won't..." But even as he protests, his control is slipping. I can see it in the way his muscles bunch, the way his breathing goes ragged, the way his neck strains.
I lean down, my lips brushing his ear. My breasts press against his chest, and he shudders. "You're going to come for me, Oliver. You're going to spill yourself into my mouth, and I'm going to taste you."
A full-body shudder runs through him. "Oh fuck, oh fuck..."
"That's it. Give it to me."
My strokes quicken, my grip tightening just slightly. I can feel him getting close, his cock swelling in my hand, his balls drawing up tight. Pre-cum leaks steadily now, slicking my palm.
"Primsyn!" My name is a cry, broken and raw.
"Yes. Come for me. Now."
His back arches off the bed as he shatters. I lunge to suck his pulsing cock into my mouth. His whole body trembles with the force of it and his cock jerks in my grip. There’s so much cum that it leaks out onto my hands, coating my fingers.
And I watch every second, captivated by his surrender. By the way his face goes slack with pleasure, the way his throat works as he gasps for air.
When he finally stills, panting and spent, I lift my hands to my mouth. His eyes track the movement, going wide as I lick my fingers clean.
The taste of him is rich, complex, with an undertone of something I've never encountered before. Salt and musk and pure vitality. Power floods through me immediately, strength and energy surging in my veins like lightning.
A moan escapes me. "Gods, Oliver. You taste..."
"What?" he asks hoarsely, still trying to catch his breath.
"Incredible." I lick my fingers again, savoring every drop, not wanting to waste any of it. "I've never tasted anything like you."
He stares at me, his chest still heaving. "You got what you wanted."
The bitterness in his voice cuts through my satisfaction. He's pulling away already, retreating behind his walls. Building them back up brick by brick.
I should let him. Should take what I need and leave, maintaining the distance between us. That would be the smart thing. The safe thing.
Instead, I lie down beside him, my head on his chest, listening to his racing heart.
"What are you doing?" he asks, his body going rigid.
"Resting." I close my eyes, breathing in his scent. "Just for a moment."
"You should go."
"I will. Soon."
We lie in silence, his heart gradually slowing under my ear. Despite everything, this feels right. Being here with him. Skin to skin. Like two puzzle pieces that shouldn't fit but somehow do.
"Primsyn?"
"Mm?"
