"Fuck my mouth, Cap. Show me who's the boss." My eyes never leave him, I need to see his reactions as much as I need to hear his moans.
“Will you take me deep? Will you choke on my dick, Ryan?” His tone is demanding, and if he thinks I won’t take the challenge, he’s mistaken.
“Give it to me. Don’t hold back. I want it.” He leans into me, grabs me by my jaw, and yanks my face to his. He kisses me hard, tasting himself on my tongue as he licks deep into my mouth like he’s trying to devour my very life essence.
He stands straight, his lips swollen and shining from that bruising kiss. He looks down at me, "Open up, my pretty boy." His words spring me into action like it's my damn job.
Shit, him calling me pretty boy does something to my insides. No one has ever called me that. But I don’t have time to dwell on my reaction to those words because the dark red head of his cock pokes at my mouth. I don’t hesitate to open it.
I’m immediately met with a deep thrust that has him punching the back of my throat, forcing me to open up and take him deeper. That’s right, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer, this isn’t my first rodeo. Swallowing around his shaft, I hear his moans.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you suck me so good." He's almost breathless as he pulls back and then snaps his hips forward. Realizing I have no gag reflex, he stops going easy on me. Over and over, I find my nose pressed to the hairs on his groin as he fucks my face like a man possessed.
I can feel his thighs tensing under my palms as I pull back, looking up at him, my eyes watering, my lips swollen. I'm sure I look every bit as debauched as I feel. "You gonna give me that cum Cap?" I ask with a quirk of my lips as I dip further down, sucking his balls one at a time into my hot mouth before going back to rest his cock on my tongue in invitation.
“I want to mark you with my cum. I want it all over your pretty face, and you’re going to love it, aren’t you?” He takes his dick in his hand and starts to jerk right in front of my face. The anticipation is making me crazy. I reach out to palm my own shaft.
"Oh no, you don't. That's mine." I snap my eyes up, ready to plead with him. I'm so fucking hard it hurts. "Your cock is mine to play with. When I want you to come, I'll say so. Patience, pretty boy, let me fuck up that pretty face." The growl in his voice goes straight to my balls, which are already pulled tight to my body.
“Well, not letting me jerk it may not change a thing, Cap. My dick is so ready to blow it may combust on its own.”
“Mmmmm fuck yeah, come hands-free, pretty boy.” Oh God. What is he doing to me? Can I really come like that?
Watching this powerful man unravel, his neck tight, jaw clenched as his hand works fast over his cock, his balls draw up tight as his head flies back and he roars in pleasure while his release covers my face. Jets of cum coat my tongue, my cheek, and neck. I fucking lose it at the sounds coming from his throat, and oh fuck, I’m so close.
My hand flies to my jeans, pulling them open just enough to release my achingly hard dick. I know he told me to wait, but I can’t. It takes two strokes… fucking two before I blow all over the floor between us.
Reaching down, he grabs my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze, an obvious warning in his eyes and his tone. “Let this be the only time you disobey me, but you look so beautiful with my cum all over your pretty face…” Daaaammmn. “I think I can forgive you. Now get up and come shower with me, and then we need to get some sleep.”
“Fuck Cap, that was the single hottest moment of my life. I didn’t expect that from you. Where did you hide that side of you?” He chuckles at my words and links his hand with mine pulling me to my feet and guiding me upstairs.
We slept wrapped around each other that night, not like almost strangers who had only met a few times in a bar but like lovers who had been together for a long time. It feels like home, and it fucking terrifies me.
~~
Waking up the next morning after another fitful night of sleep filled with dreams of long tan limbs, dark stubble, and whiskey eyes, I feel like a pile of dog shit that's been heated in the microwave. Much like I have looked for the last three days, I can admit it. I'm miserable without him. What I thought was misery those last few months we were together was just a scratch on the surface of the pain I'm feeling now without him.
The memories of our good times are plaguing me day and night, relentlessly fucking with me, and not even in a fun way. With a long sigh, I drag my tired ass out of bed and into the shower before I'm late… again.
As I walk toward Savage Ink with less than fifteen minutes before my first appointment, the regrets of staying in bed for a pity party and leaving no time for my morning coffee are evident on my frowning face.
Why do I always do this to myself? Have I not learned my lesson? Apparently not, I mean, how do I not remember after thirty years on this earth, that I cannot function without coffee? I'm barely able to put one foot in front of the other right now, which is clearly why I completely miss the tall man leaning against the studio window with four large steaming cups of coffee in his hands until I'm standing right in front of him.
My eyes drift up from the polished shoes to the expensive navy blue suit, tailored to perfection, before landing on the whiskey eyes that are haunting my dreams.
"Drew?" I ask, confusion evident on my face. It's almost nine-thirty A.M. This guy has not started work later than eight in his whole life, dude was probably an hour early for highschool.
CHAPTER 9
DREW
After spending the remainder of the weekend with my siblings, I came to the conclusion that we’re a fucked up bunch. The more wine we drank, the more stupid ideas we came up with. Val suggested I should use a wooden stock. Where would I even get one… Amazon maybe? Kim’s idea was even crazier. She thought it would be fine to lock Ryan and I in a room and swallow the key.
Pete's advice was the most reasonable, but not my style. I don't care how many nineties movie references you show me. I'm not getting a boombox to stand with it outside his bedroom window, but I'm also not going to act like nothing happened and I'm doing fine without him. Because I'm not, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
I guess a weekend spent with all the intrusive questions and bizarre ideas was exponentially better than drinking whiskey and crying alone about it. By the end of the first night, a decision had been made.
I will show this infuriating, wonderful man that he was never invisible to me, that I can be there for him, that he can count on me to see him and see to all his needs. So, this is why I am standing outside Savage Ink with coffee and donuts for Ryan and his coworkers.
