Devoted, Harlow sucked Simon in until his nose brushed Simon’s groin. Simon gasped and squirmed, then lifted his hips to push himself farther into Harlow’s mouth, owning his throat. Harlow swallowed him down, loving it, eager for more.
Simon’s hands nested in his hair, fingers tightening. “I don’t want to have to miss you.”
Harlow didn’t, either, and it broke his heart to hear Simon say it.
“Don’t wanna…” Simon made a sound of delirious pleasure as Harlow ran his tongue over and along his shaft. “Don’t wanna… say goodbye.”
Harlow pulled back, kissed Simon’s tip, and replied, “I don’t wanna say goodbye, either, but we’re going to make the best of it. I promise. No matter what it takes, it won’t be long until I see you again.”
Simon’s fingers tightened, curled. He pushed Harlow back down, and Harlow took his cock gladly. With it between his lips, his tongue busy along Simon’s shaft, there was no way to speak. All Harlow could do was devote himself to pleasure, and he did so fully. His reward was the whimpered noises Simon made—choked moans and gasps muted out of necessity. There were no closed doors to give them privacy, and nothing to stop anyone in the house from finding them wrapped up in each other. Discretion was imperative.
“Harlow,” Simon panted. He shoved Harlow’s head down, and rather than fight, Harlow gave in. He took Simon as far as he could, letting his throat convulse around his length. “H-Harlow…”
While Harlow sucked, his hand grasped Simon’s balls, fondled, squeezed. He wanted them emptied—so drained that Simon couldn’t give him one more drop.
“Harlow!” Simon whispered. He bucked his hips, but Harlow held him down, one arm barred across his pelvis. Simon struggled regardless, the air mattress puffing in protestation. “Harlow…”
Tight lips. A swirling tongue. Harlow hummed, sucked, and nuzzled. The coarse hair at the base of Simon’s cock brushed against his nose, encouraging Harlow to push himself further. If he kept this up, if he could encourage Simon to keep making noise for him…
“Harlow,” Simon whispered, pleading. “I’m gonna… gonna…”
Cum spilled across Harlow’s tongue. The next spurt was more generous, and Harlow took it as it came, holding it in his mouth as Simon let go. Simon’s entire body stiffened, muscles tight, entirely still. Then, as he shot one last time, he slumped back onto the air mattress.
Although his body was spent, his spirit wasn’t. He didn’t release Harlow—he adjusted his grip instead.
“Don’t swallow,” Simon uttered frantically. “Don’t swallow, baby. Want you to… to put it back inside me. Force me to take it. Pry my mouth open and put it back where it belongs. Oh,fuck,I’m filthy for you. Wanna… wanna remember what it feels like, when you’re gone.”
Was he serious? The tone of his voice, lost to lust, told Harlow that he was, but he was hesitant to use any kind of force on Simon, especially after what he’d been through today.
“Please?” Simon whimpered. “Please, Harlow…”
Harlow couldn’t say no. Whatever Simon wanted, he had to give. Their time together had been brief, but Harlow’s heart cared little about hours or days—it measured love in units Harlow couldn’t decipher, and came to conclusions that, to most, would seem illogical. There was no predicting it, and no telling it what to do. Harlow was just as much under Simon’s spell now as he had been moments after his fist had collided with Simon’s nose.
“Feed me,” Simon whispered. “Make me fucking dirty, H. I wanna be filthy for you.”
Cock throbbing, Harlow made his way back up Simon’s body. He pinched the sides of Simon’s jaw, forcing his mouth open, then tilted his head so as not to hit Simon’s nose and sealed their lips together. The load—everything Simon had given him—was shared between them kiss by kiss. Their tongues met. Played. Caressed. The sensation was electric. Simon, the pure, innocent boy who was too shy to hold a conversation without stammering and who blushed at the smallest things, sucked his cum off Harlow’s tongue.
Harlow couldn’t take it anymore.
“You want my cock, baby?” Harlow asked, parting their mouths so he could speak. A thin strand of cum connected their lips until Simon reached for it with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth. When it snapped, it striped his lip and hit the side of his nose. “You want me to fill you?”
“Please,” Simon begged. He was panting, his chest heaving with need. “Please.I’m wet for you already. So fucking wet. Thought… thought maybe you’d want me, one more time, so I prepared. I want you so bad, Harlow. Wanna remember you even when we have to be apart.”
Harlow had originally guided Simon’s boxer-briefs down to his thighs—there hadn’t been any need to lower them any farther than that. He corrected his mistake now, yanking them from Simon’s body completely, then casting them aside. He freed himself of his own, needing to be bare. Tonight warranted it. It was Harlow’s last chance to remember the touch of Simon’s skin on his own, the way they fit together so well, and the way Simon felt beneath him.
Harlow’s knees slotted between Simon’s thighs, the air mattress compressing beneath his weight. He paid it no heed. Confident in what he wanted and ready to claim it, he tugged Simon to him, lifted his ass up with one bold hand, then put his cock back where it belonged in a single push.
“Harlow,” Simon gasped, enraptured. His hips flexed, bringing Harlow that much more pleasure as the angle of penetration changed. “F-Fuck…”
Simon’s drenched hole devoured Harlow to the hilt. Tight, warm, and wet, Harlow couldn’t hold back—he bucked, claiming Simon in frenzied movements that left him wanting to pop his knot. Their skin slapped, the air mattress whooshed, and Simon made the prettiest, faintest sounds. High in pitch, high in intensity, they sank through Harlow’s bones like ultraviolet rays, altering him irreparably at the molecular level.
He was Simon’s—all Simon’s.
For now, and forever.
As Harlow pumped into Simon, fast and hard and exactly the way he’d learned Simon liked to be taken, Simon took hold of his wrist. At first, Harlow wasn’t sure what he was doing—Simon had never done something similar before—but then, as Simon lifted his hand and directed it to his neck, Harlow started to clue in. Like before, when Simon had demanded Harlow continue to worship his nipple, he pushed on Harlow’s hand, keeping Harlow in place.
“Simon?” Harlow asked. He kept still, afraid to move.
