Now the tip of his tongue finds mine, sliding to the sensitive place where my shaft connects to my crown in shocking bursts of pleasure.
My toes curl in the socks I still wear, and I white-knuckle the urge to hold him by two handfuls of hair and slam inside his mouth hard and fast.
He takes me so much slower.
It’s torture.
And treasure.
My vision spangles with gold, then narrows to a fiery pinpoint, and I growl, “Don’t fucking stop.”
He doesn’t. Dair goes all in on getting me wet enough to take me deeper. Not all the way yet. That doesn’t stop him from trying, if slowly.
I process the ridges on the roof of his mouth on a delay, the edge of his teeth next, and then his throat’s resistance. It takes me even longer to register that each time he pulls back, he leans in again to take more of me, fraction by thick fraction.
He’s doing it—working hard to stop me from thinking in the very best way. Dair doesn’t give up, and I’m so fucking glad that he had people who didn’t give up on him, even if his foster folk couldn’t save him from a court battle.
I have to close my eyes again. Not to picture what he loves and will soon lose. I close them to lock away these long minutes of bliss for later. I store each wet noise from him and how we sound together, both of us getting off because there’s no doubting that he enjoys each rumble I can’t keep in. He presses a palm flat against my chest like he’s doing some locking away of his own to carry each vibration all the way back to Scotland. I’mnot gonna stop him. I give him more noises to lock away in his wank bank, almost giving in to a coiling sensation that pulls my balls closer to my body.
I’ll come if he keeps going.
Shoot straight down his throat, and this will be over.
Dair stops before I get there.
He pulls off, his glance up at me wet and shiny. With good tears, I think. They must be for his one shoulder to rise and fall even faster, and I’ve never wanted to watch anyone get themselves off more or be their reason for it.
I drop to my knees beside my bed to see for myself.
The head of his dick shines, damp like his eyes, and fuck it, I kiss it. Lap at his slit. Suck him down until my lips meet his fist and he lets go of his shaft. I take him deeper, and if there’s a city outside this bedroom, it stops existing.
There’s just me and him, like on the night he kissed me better in his bathroom. Now the head of his dick bumps the roof of my mouth, and he likes that as much as I did—I taste precome. Then my throat fights what we both want.
He shifts back on the mattress like he thinks a little bit of gagging and a sudden flood of saliva means I’ve hit my limit. I’m nowhere near it, just got fucking started, so I grasp his hips and swallow.
Our eyes meet for a moment. He collapses backwards before propping himself up on his elbows to watch me take him deep, then even deeper.
I hold him there. Could keep him in my throat forever, only Dair arches. Tries to stop himself from bucking. Fails, shouts, and lets out the kind of noise I know I’ll replay later. It’s pleasure, for sure, and I chase it, blowing him until he’s rigid. Shaking. His hands do find my hair, and I get real tears of my own in my eyes when he tugs me off his dick hard and fast to come.
Dair shoots for a second time because of me, this time to stripe his own belly. I hear relief then, and I get some of my own while he’s still shaking with post-climax shudders. He pants a rough-sounding, “Come here,” and I do.
First, I kick out of the jeans tangling at my ankles and climb up on the bed to kneel over him, my hand on my own dick. “Fucking gorgeous.” He really is, all flushed and filthy. I straddle his hips and add Dair watching me get myself off to a list of things I need to repeat before he leaves my city.
“Do it,” he tells me, nothing soft about his order even as he strokes my balls with trembling fingers. His hold firms. So does his command. “Come on me.”
I want to. So much. I also want this to last. My fist slides over my still wet dick too slowly for him. He takes over, and his hand on me is so much better. So is his mouth after he props himself up again and wets his lips for me.
I slide my dick in, and yeah, this time I do hold two handfuls of hair to keep him where I need him, but he holds my arse too. His fingers dig in hard, and like so often since I met him, that makes us equals.
I fuck into his mouth.
He grasps me even tighter as mid-February sunlight finds its way through a fifteenth-floor window. Just like that, I’ve got more than fire between my fingers. It fills my whole fucking chest at what Dair doesn’t try to hide from me.
He lets me see his tears spilling, and I come my fucking brains out.
It takesa while to come down.
I’m on the struggle bus all over again, this time to recover, which is wild. I’ve done more with strangers and walked away within minutes. Today, I collapse beside someone I’d do this with a hundred more times, given the option, and fuck me, that’s fatal. He’s streaked with my spunk and smiling, and my heart doesn’t only stutter. It snaps closed like a padlock locking around how right he looks in my bed.
