I pulled my soiled T-shirt off and threw it onto the floor. I stayed on my knees, waiting to see if my efforts had brought him lasting relief. He started mumbling softly. Unintelligibly at first. “Again. Need it.”
I took him into my hand again with no hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, Sully . . . I’m sorry I’m like this.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “After all, you’d do it for me, right?”
I meant it as a joke. Not a funny joke, a feeble joke by someone who barely had an ounce of blood flowing to their brain and thus couldn’t think of anything better to say, but Jules’s face went serious. For once, even his eyebrows complied. The tension left his features and he looked at me earnestly. “I would.”
His words cut into me deeply. I wanted to let myself believe he meant it. That it was out-of-heat-Jules speaking, that it was just Jules, and he wanted me the way I wanted him. I knew it was stupid, but that was what I wanted.
I shifted my hips. Jules wasn’t the only one with a big boner problem. My cock was uncomfortably hard. The scent of his heat and the warmth of his cock in my hand were slowly eroding my humanity. My sanity. With every long stroke of his dick, I felt myself coming undone. Fraying at the seams. I had what I wanted in the palm of my hand. I had Jules. I had him right where I wanted him. I wanted his dick in my hand. My God, I wanted it so much and I had it. I finally had it. The problem was I wanted more. I wanted much more. I wanted it all. I wanted him. He was strung up. His asshole was slick. He told me so himself. He was an omega in heat and he was Jules. It was a perfect storm. I wanted him in the worst way. I wanted to do everything to him. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to devour him. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted my dick inside him. I wanted that more than anything. Given the state of him, I knew he wouldn’t resist. He probably wouldn’t resist at all. His body would give way. It would accept me. He wouldn’t fight me. He’d probably arch his back and tilt hips back to give me access.
Hell, he’d probably like it.
I knew for a fact I’d like it, too.
Fortunately, he came again then. Startling me with the force of his ejaculation, freeing me from the train of thought that was consuming me. Some of his load went flying over my shoulder and the rest got me square on the neck. It felt hot as it started to trickle down my chest. It burned a trail into my skin. Leaving it be, when I wanted nothing more than to scoop it up and eat every last drop of it, was nothing short of torture.
“Again,” said Jules, before I had time to dwell on that any further. I made him come over and over. It went on for hours. Hours and hours. I made him come until his voice was hoarse from crying out and my arms were cramped and exhausted. “It’s not helping,” he wailed after a particularly intense orgasm. “Fuck. It’s not helping!”
I was at a loss. Short of jerking his dick clean off his body, I’d done as much as I possibly could. “Maybe it’s not what you need. Maybe you need to be inside . . .”
He jerked his body back. His eyes bored into me. I thought maybe I’d said the wrong thing. I was about to apologize, but he beat me to it.
“Open your mouth,” he rasped.
My mouth dropped open. Wide open. I obeyed without thinking about it. I shuffled my knees closer to him and before I had time to think, he canted his hips and thrust his cock deep in my mouth. It was a shock. My eyes flew open, and I let out a muffled sound. His dick was thick and filled my mouth completely. Deeply. It took me a second to recover, but as soon as I did, I sealed my lips around him and started to suck. He made a long, deep sound that sounded more wild than human. I looked up at him in wonder as I bobbed my head up and down him. The ridge of his head was grating against my tongue as I moved my head back and forth. My mouth was full and I was on my knees at his feet, and yet I felt in control. Making him moan, making him throw this head back, and making his thighs shake made me feel like a man who’d come into his own power for the very first time.
His jaw was slack. Mouth open. His eyes were half closed and rolled back in his head. He was leaning his head against one of his arms. His neck was exposed. I could see every pore on his skin. Every tiny golden hair, and every thick, dark one, too. I could see the pulse at his jugular. It was fast and erratic. I could see something else. Something new. Something I’d never seen on him before. On the base of his neck, where his neck and shoulder met, I could see a small lump. It wasn’t much bigger than the size of a quarter. It was swollen and ripe. It was his scent gland. It was small, but God only knows, it was causing mayhem. Mayhem in him and mayhem in me. I wanted it. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to lick it until it was raw. I wanted to scrape my lips and my teeth across it. I wanted to make it inflamed. I wanted it puffy and red. And more than that, I wanted to bite it. I wanted to sink my teeth into his skin. I wanted to claim him. I wanted to mark him and make him mine. I wanted that more than I’d ever wanted anything. I wanted that in a way that was far, far from human.
I blew him until my jaw ached and streaks of saliva tracked down my chin. I alternated between using my hands and my mouth, taking the smooth heat of him deeper and deeper into my mouth each time, until at last, my body was pressed up against his legs and I was as close as I could get to him. My hand found its way into my pants, though I didn’t remember deciding to do it. I stroked myself hard, dragging as much pleasure out of myself as I could. I still wanted more. I wanted him. I wanted everything he had. I wanted his skin and his flesh. I wanted his voice and his mind. I wanted his dick rammed into my throat and I wanted his load. I wrapped my free arm around his hips, digging my fingers into his ass cheeks, harpooning his flesh, pulling him closer to me. I was gagging and choking, spluttering and coughing, and I was entirely unrepentant.
“Fuck, Sully. Look out. I’m going to…”
I pulled back slightly, stroking him with one hand, keeping his head on my tongue, so I could taste him. His body stiffened and bowed backward. He was up on his toes and every muscle in his body was tightly contracted, straining to get his dick closer to me. He bellowed as he shot his load into my mouth. I was in heaven. It tasted like him. Like Jules. Just Jules. The second my brain registered that, I came, too. I came like a fountain. Pleasure exploded out of me. It was so intense it had a life of its own. I didn’t just feel pleasure. I saw it. I heard it. I tasted it, too. I tasted it in my mouth and my throat and all the way down to my heart.
It tasted exactly, precisely, like Jules.
As soon as the aftershocks of his orgasm subsided, his legs gave way beneath him. His body slumped, and he was left dangling from his wrists. I got to my feet quickly and propped him up as best I could.
“Where are the keys?” I demanded.
“Coffee . . .”
“I’m not kidding, Jules. Tell me where they are.”
“Coffee machine.”
I dashed to the kitchen and searched the coffee machine. I found the blasted keys in the filter. I fished them out and unlocked the cuffs as fast as I could. He sank into my arms, weakened by the ravages of his heat.
“Good hiding spot, huh?” he mumbled. “Knew if I died, you’d look there eventually.”
I pulled him close and slung his arm over my shoulder, smiling into his hair, almost overcome by the tenderness I felt for him.
“It was a good hiding spot, Jules,” I admitted as I helped him to bed.
He flopped onto the mattress. His body was so limp I had to scoot his legs onto the bed for him and pull the quilt up to cover him. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. He lay on his side, with his hands curled up near his face. It was how he always slept. I’d seen him like that many, many times, but I’d never seen him like that. Like a lover. Like my lover. His dark lashes were tightly knitted together; his lips were slack and parted slightly. He looked unbelievable. Incredible. Unreal.
