He hardens in my mouth the more I work him over. Relief overwhelms me by the time he’s fully hard and stretching my jaw. That he responds to me like this is enough to weaken my bones and make me so fucking desperate for him. The small cries and the way his hips are rolling and seeking my attention tells me that it’s more than just physical stimulation. Even if we never do this again, the experience alone will fuel me until the end of time. Hell, every glance he gives me, every tiny amount of attention he shoots my way, is more than enough to do that.
“Every time you groan, I can feel it,” he pants. “The way you’re reacting to me, the way you’re loving this so fucking much, it’s…” He trails off, another sweet cry pulling from those lips. “Knowing you like it so much is making me hard.You’remaking me hard.”
Christ. I pull off his wet cock, and our eyes meet, his brown eyes darker and focused completely on me. He looks glorious like this: naked, chest heaving, staring at me like I’m the answer to all his prayers.
“If you don’t like any of this, I need you to tell me.”
“I’m not going—” He pauses, searching my face. I don’t know what he sees there, but he nods and says, “I will.”
That’s all I need.
He sucks in a breath when I flip him over onto his stomach and then lift his hips so his ass is right there in the air for me. Fuck, it’s a work of art. The kind I want to put my hands all over. Massaging the softness is like a direct line to my dick.
“Are we doing it like this?” Spencer asks huskily.
“Mmm, not quite.” There’s no way I’m putting us into a position where I can’t see his face when I get inside him for the first time. But if he thinks we’re going straight to the finale, he’s sorely mistaken. I have other plans first.
“Then what are you doing?”
I don’t answer him. He’ll know soon enough; I don’t have enough patience to drag this out too much. Not now that I have him in my arms like this.
He trembles when I glide a finger over his hole, with just a hint of pressure. Teasing, learning.
“What are you—oh my god.” His head drops forward on a cry. I continue to circle his hole with my tongue, exploring him. He shivers and lifts his ass into my face, silently begging for more.
He doesn’t need to beg. I lick faster, coating him and pushing my tongue inside to loosen him up. He starts rotating his hips, tiny moans a constant accompaniment, and I have to force him still while I eat him out, holding him so that I can soak up the taste of him, have him linger there for eternity.
“I’ve never—I don’t—I didn’t know it could be like this.”
I’m too busy, unable to lift my head and stop for even a second, to ask what he means. He doesn’t seem to need my contribution since he continues without waiting for me to respond.
“Why does this feel good? It’s so fucking dirty—fuck,don’t stop.”
That’s definitely not happening, not when he’s this desperate for it. In fact—I suck around his muscles until his cries are echoing in the room, and then I carefully add a finger, my saliva enough to ease the way. The strangled noise he makes is encouraging, and I slide in a little further. Not too far without lube but enough to get him comfortable with the intrusion. I want him as relaxed as possible before we go further.
“Spread yourself for me,” I order, voice hoarse.
He shifts, shoulders pressing into the bed, and then reaches behind himself to grip his cheeks and pull them apart. Watching the tip of my finger push in and out of him has me leaking like a fucking faucet, so turned on it’s almost painful. He’s right; I didn’t know it could be like this either. Everything with him has always been more, better, so I should have known that this would be the same. Anything with him eclipses all else.
The way he’s wriggling his hips and clenching around me only makes it all that much sharper, more intense. The need to get inside him is overwhelming, but I’m not going to rush this. Spencer deserves to be cherished and worshipped.
I move back in to lick at him, and he makes more of those delicious noises, a constant stream of them that feed me. Some of it comes out as garbled, husky words that sound distinctly like “don’t stop” over and over again.
“I won’t, baby,” I promise. Not unless he asks me to. Nothing else in the world could make me stop.
Eventually, he’s relaxed enough that my finger gets all the way to the third knuckle, disappearing in and out while I make him wet with my tongue. I could stay here all night, feasting on him. Exhaust him until he collapses and passes out. And even then, I’d continue, for his pleasure and mine both.
“We should have done this years ago,” he slurs.
No use telling him that he wasn’t ready for this years ago. I doubt he’s aware enough to hear me. I’m not even sure Iwasready, to be honest, just as content with our unusual relationship as he was. If we’d never taken this step, it wouldn’t matter. We’re glued together for life. Soulmates, in all ways.
He lets go of a cheek and reaches back further to cup the back of my head. “I need—I need—” He cuts off with a low moan that reverberates through me. “I want to—touch—”
The words are broken and scattered, like he doesn’t quite know what he’s saying or asking for, drunk on sensations.
I understand what he wants, he doesn’t need to be coherent.
“Don’t move, I’ll take care of you.” His cock fits perfectly in my hand, hot and heavy, with pre-cum at the tip. Spreading it around gives me an easier slide while fisting him. He groans into the pillow and rotates his hips erratically, like he can’t decide if he wants to push forward into my hand or back into my face. It doesn’t matter; I’m happy to stimulate him both ways.
