But right here, in this bed, with no cameras and no wires, we can do as we please. For once in my life, maybe I can let down my guard.
I lower my head and trail the tip of my tongue down his neck, tasting his sweat, cut by a sharp chemical tang. The drugs are working their way out of his system, but I guess the millions of pills he’s taken over the years have left their residue.
“Fuck me,” he demands. “Don’tteaseme.”
“I want youwaymore desperate than this.” His mouth twists as I say that; half annoyed and half amused. “Maybe I should just fuck that filthy mouth of yours again.”
“Please, Luca.” Just hearing my name come out of his mouth is making my blood pound. “I love that, but right now I need you inside me.”
I know why he needs it so bad. He has a void inside and he thinks my dick’ll help fill it. Who knows, maybe it will? But if we’re doing this, if we’re doing what we want to do, I’m going to do it right. I’m going to put my mouth all over him first, taste him. I’ve never wanted totastesomeone so bad, and I don’t mean his spunk; I meanhim.
He’s freshly prepped and showered; he took his time while I stood there and waited and let the meal settle. I’ve never had such fine food, and I drank a glass more than I normally would. Finch drank with abandon and ate little. But he said he was satisfied, even made me eat his dessert.
I roll him over on the bed and he goes eagerly enough, expecting that he’ll get what he wants. But I’m not in the business of fulfilling expectations; I always try to exceed them. I plant his hands on the bars of the headboard and lay down on top of him, letting him feel my heat and my sweat and my hard cock nestling between his asscheeks. “You hang on to that,” I say in his ear. “If you let go, even for a second, I stop.”
Finch lets out a whimper, and it almost breaks me, makes me want to drive into him. His hole is right there and available; when I move, the head of my cock drags over it, and it takes every ounce of self-control to hold back. I see his fingers tighten so hard that his knuckles turn white.
“Good boy,” I breathe. “Now we can begin.”
I peel myself off of him and look at him splayed out on the bed, his body begging mutely for mine. His ass is something Michelangelo might have carved; each globe perfectly sculpted with gentle concaves on each side. Christ. I hope he stays young and beautiful forever…or at least keeps his ass looking just like this.
“Knees,” I tell him, and he awkwardly pulls his knees up under him while still clinging to the bars of the headboard. One day I’m going to tie him up. That’s definitely going to happen. But right now it’s fun to watch the struggle.
I’m sitting behind him, and I take in the sight of his perfect ass, beautiful balls hanging below, and his cock, hard and wagging under his belly.
“It was a good dinner,” I say.
He rests his forehead on his arm. “It was.”
“But I’m not done eating for the day.”
I hear his sharp gasp and allow myself a smile. I guessed right. There are some guys who go crazy for what I’m about to do, and Howard Fincher Donovan the Third is one of them. “I don’t need any special spoons for this, do I?” I ask him, and slap his left asscheek, hard enough to leave a pink flush.
He moans at that. “N-no.”
How about that. A stutter. The way to shut Finch’s mouth for him is to eat his ass. I file that information away for future reference, and get down to it. His ass is like a giant candy apple, so I open my mouth wide and take a slow, wet bite on top of the mark left over from my slap. The noise he makes…God. If my cock was any closer, I’d give up and drive it home. I bite some more, shallow, tender, no sting at all, just close my teeth on his flesh and suck it up a little as I do. I work my way around in circles leading inevitably to that pretty pink hole of his, and then flick my tongue over it, just to see what he’ll do.
He goes perfectly still. “Please,” he says, when I don’t continue. “Please.”
“As long as you’re polite about it,” I murmur, my lips pressed against his ring. I nuzzle into his crack, spreading his cheeks wider, and give him a long, wide lick from taint to tailbone.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
“You hold on tight, angel,” I remind him. “If I see those hands move, I stop.”
It doesn’t stop him from squirming against my mouth, trying to open himself up and let my tongue in. I don’t mind. It’s what I’m aiming for, after all. I want him relaxed and ready for my cock when I tire of this. I don’t think Finch would ever tire of it, though; and his words have returned with a vengeance, spilling out of him: pleading, begging, cursing,thankingme.
I stab the tip of my tongue right at his pucker and he groans and presses back. I get a hand under him to check his dick; he’s slippery with pre-cum, and I start to jack him with his own fluid as lube.
“I’ll shoot,” he babbles. “I’ll shoot, I will, I swear to God, if you keep doing that—”
“No,” I say calmly. “When I’m done fucking you, andonlythen, you will ask permission to come. And if you’ve been a very good boy, I’ll let you. But youmustbe good. Understand?”
“I understand. I’ll be good.Please.”
“Let go of the bars.”
It’s almost as if he doesn’t trust me, like if he lets go I’ll tell him he’s been bad. I plant one last kiss on his ring, openmouthed with lots of tongue, and then pat his ass. “Let go. I want you to turn over.”
