“Good. Good rabbit.”
Colm cocks an eyebrow at me, clearly reaching for some sort of righteous indignation to drag to the surface, but I don’t give him the chance.
Reaching down, I grab hold of his thickening cock through the fabric of his trousers and give him a slow, dragging stroke. I’m squeezing hard enough that it has to be more painful than pleasurable, but the masochist buried inside him is clearly out to play because all he does is gasp and shiver. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out and a flush creeping under all the dark ink that covers his skin. He looks like a wanton thing.
He looks good enough to eat. I just can’t decide which part I want to devour first.
Going with my gut, I climb on top of him and switch from groping to straddling his cock. I grind my hips down into him, pulling more shallow, desperate noises out of his mouth, and remind myself of how he looked under me just a few hours ago.
Colm’s hands are in the air, hovering over my spread thighs. I can tell he wants to touch, but he’s stopping himself.
Obedient, too.
I could get used to this.
Another roll of my hips has him hissing, and his hands tremble in the air. I push them both down to the bedspread to help him avoid the temptation, before leaning over him. I suddenly wish his hair was long enough to grab, but I’m sure I can think of something else.
With my face suspended a few inches over his and one hand braced on each side of his head, I begin to grind into him in earnest. I can feel him getting harder beneath me, and when his hips start to thrust up to meet my movements, I know I have him.
He’s trying so hard to stay quiet. Ragged inhales and the occasional soft grunt are all he’s giving me.
Doesn’t matter. I’m going to make him come in his pants, anyway.
My own cock strains for attention, tenting my jeans and begging for more, but I don’t have time for that now. I’m building up more and more momentum as I ride Colm, determined to make him squirt in his underwear like a desperate, horny little teenager. And judging by the flush climbing up his neck and the intensity of the growled, bitten-off noises he’s making, I’m getting close.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Good rabbit.”
Colm gasps, but when he tries to close his mouth again, I grind into him even faster and reach up to tap his bottom lip with one finger.
“No. Keep your mouth open, just like that.” He does as I say, obedient and pliant now. “Tongue out for me,” I whisper, and again he obeys.
His tongue is pink and wet, and I have a stronger urge to lick into his mouth than I was expecting. It’s not something I indulge in, because the reality is always significantly more disappointing than the fantasy, but the urge is there, all the same.
Instead, I gather up the saliva in my mouth, before grabbing his jaw to hold him still and spitting down into his open, waiting maw.
My spit hits his tongue just as I arch my back and grind against him again. And again. And again.
The sight of my own spit smeared over his tongue is enough that he’s not the only one that might come in his pants.
Colm is taking one deep, heaving breath after another at this point, and I can see him about to spill over the edge.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Good rabbit. Come for me.”
His hips jerk a little, and then he makes a raw, desperate, gasping sound that I want to inject directly into my veins. I can feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed against my taint, eventhrough all the fucking fabric in the way, and I know without a doubt that his stiff, arched body is currently soaking cum all through that fabric in an attempt to get to me.
Colm makes a strangled moan as he comes down, still looking me in the eye. I can’t wait any longer.
With one hand resting directly above his head, I lean forward and unzip myself enough to pull out my aching cock. I’m so close to exploding that all it takes is a few rough strokes before I come. I fist my cock, making sure to aim so that Colm’s pretty face gets striped with white, some of it landing in his open mouth where my spit is still pooled.
“Fuck,” I moan, out of words other than that. “Yes.”
The last pulse of cum is more of a dribble, leaving fat, gleaming droplets on Colm’s lips and one on his chin. As soon as the euphoria fades, I’m leaning back to look at my work, kneeling over him still but without any part of us touching.
Without saying anything, I tuck myself away and zip back up, only taking a little peek to admire the dark wet patch on Colm’s trousers.
“Who the fuck are you?” he whispers to me, his voice more wrecked and raspy than it should be.
I shrug.
