“Oh God. This is amazing.”
I squirm as I fight for air, and he lets me up just long enough to gasp before we go again.
“Mason. This feels—it’s so good.”
Normally, I would tell him he still doesn’t need to be speaking, but I’m busy at the moment, and he’s clearly stopped worrying about anything but getting off. His hands are fists in my hair, and this time, when I tap his thigh, trying to let him know I’m running out of air, he holds me in place a few seconds longer than he did the last time before I can gasp for another breath.
“Mason.” He’s breathing so hard my name is more air than words. His thighs tremble under my hands, and his fingers tighten so much as I go down again I’m going to need to comb over the bald patch he’s doing his best to create.
It takes more work to get him to let me go this time, and when I finally do, his head is tipped back in anticipation of the ecstasy that is only a second or two away. I squeeze him tight, and he must know it’s coming, because he doesn’t protest. His face tightens up, and he lets out a groan of frustration, and finally—for the first time—he looks down at me.
“Please.”
That’s all he says. He doesn’t need more words. No long stream of consciousness narrating every thought in his head. Justplease.
I rise up on my knees to kiss him, and he holds my face close so he can let some of his frustration out through his lips. I stroke him gently, and he makes a strangled sound. I know what he wants, but we’re not there yet.
“Stand up,” I say, and he pops to his feet like a cork, nearly smacking my chin with his dick in the process.
“What are we doing?” He’s beautiful and focused and so very naked, and it’s painful that I can’t have what I want yet. But I’m doing this for him, and I’ll take what I need soon.
“We’re having supper.” I smack his ass. “Come on. Do you like ketchup with your grilled cheese?”
15
Charlie
I’m regrettingsome life choices here. Mason at least doesn’t say anything when I slide my briefs back on, so I don’t have to sit with my bare ass on his chair while we eat. We both ignore the giant tent my erection is pitching underneath the stretchy fabric.
Mason eats with slow deliberation, while I do my best to singe off all the soft tissues on the roof of my mouth. My erection subsides a little, which is to say the ache in my crotch goes from painful to demanding, but all I can do is eat my goddamn sandwich and wait for Mason to move on with whatever the next phase of his plan is.
The first phase was pretty good, I’ll admit. It felt amazing, and not just the hot slide of his mouth. Despite Mason being the one calling the shots, the longer he went, the more in control I felt—of myself, anyway. I stopped worrying I was going to do something wrong. That the noises I was making were embarrassing. The only thing I was worried about was whether he would let me come, and in the end, the answer to that question was a big resounding no.
Jerk.
Like he knows what I’m thinking, Mason glances up from his sandwich. He pulls a slice of apple free, dragging a string of cheese behind it, and lifts the whole thing in the air, high over his mouth, before he drops it in, licking the grease from his fingers. It’s obscene and ridiculous, and shouldn’t be sexy, but my cock pulses in my shorts, and this is the longest meal I’ve ever eaten. If he asks me what’s for dessert, I’m going to throw myself on the floor and wail like a toddler.
Mason laughs quietly. “The look on your face is precious right now.”
I glower while I chew. “I’m not a boy, you know.”
His expression sobers. “I know.”
“This isn’t about feeling like a child or needing protection.”
“Nothing about what we’re doing is appropriate for children.”
“Then why do you call megood boyall the time?”
He chuckles as he swallows the last bite of his sandwich. “Charlie, I’m a dog trainer. I call the mailman a good boy. I’d call my grandmother a good boy if she were still alive.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.
Mason comes around the table, and he lifts my chin so I have to look up at him. He bends to kiss me, the gesture soft and intimate. He tastes rich and salty, like grilled cheese, and faintly like green apples.
“You’re an excellent boy. You’re doing great. Now take your clothes off, and come to the living room.”
Not much to take off. I slide out of my briefs and head to the front room. Behind me, I can hear the clatter of dishes as Mason clears the plates from the table. I settle on the sofa, taking a moment to sneak a few quick tugs on my cock as his feet thump up the hallway. When he appears in the doorway, he’s naked too, and he’s holding a clear bottle of lube.
