It made everything hotter. Made my cock throb in his mouth. Made my balls draw up tight with want.
He was good at this. Too fucking good for someone who had never done it before. His hand wrapped around the base while his mouth handled the rest, tongue doing filthy things that made my toes curl and my breath come in gasps.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I managed to get the words out between ragged breaths.
He pulled off slowly, dragging his lips up my length. He looked up at me with those dark eyes, lips red and wet and swollen. “I didn't. Just doing what feels right.”
My hips rocked forward, seeking his mouth again. “You're a natural then.”
“Or maybe it's just you.” He licked a stripe up the underside of my cock, slow and deliberate, watching my face the wholetime like he was cataloging my reactions. “This is new for me. All of this.”
He took me back into his mouth, deeper this time, and all coherent thought evaporated. His hand moved to my balls, rolling them gently, applying just enough pressure to make my back arch off the bed.
I was already close. Too close. The combination of waking up to this and the leftover sensitivity from last night had me wound tight, pleasure building fast at the base of my spine.
My hand tightened in his hair. Not pulling, just holding on, grounding myself while he sucked me like he was starving for it. His other hand gripped my hip hard, holding me down when I tried to thrust up into his mouth.
The control in that gesture made everything hotter. Made me remember the way he had held me down last night, the way he had fucked me with methodical precision, the way he had made me come so hard I had seen stars.
“Declan, I'm gonna?—”
The warning was all I could manage before my orgasm slammed through me. My whole body went tight, pleasure hitting in waves that made my vision white out. I felt him swallow, felt his throat work around my cock, felt him keep sucking through it until I was gasping and oversensitive and trying to push him away.
When he finally released me, he crawled up my body with feline grace and kissed me. I tasted myself on his tongue, bitter and salt, and it should have been weird. Instead it made my spent cock twitch with interest, made a primal part of my brain growl with satisfaction.
Mine. He had swallowed me down. Had taken everything I gave him. Was kissing me now like he wanted more.
“Good morning,” he said against my mouth.
“That's one way to wake up.” I was still catching my breath, heart pounding, body loose and satisfied.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He settled beside me, propped up on one elbow. His eyes tracked over my face like he was cataloging details, memorizing me. “How do you feel?”
“Like I just got the best head of my life.” I turned to look at him, studied the way the morning light caught in his eyes, the way his jaw was tight like he was bracing for a hit. “How do you feel?”
His jaw tightened slightly. “Confused. But not sorry.”
“That's a start.” I reached up, traced the line of his jaw with my thumb. His beard was rough under my touch, scratchy and familiar. “We should probably shower.”
“Probably.” He didn't move. Just kept looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
“What?”
“I'm trying to figure out if last night was real or if I'm going to wake up and realize I dreamed the whole thing.”
“It was real.” I sat up slowly. My ribs protested the movement. The bruising from the attack was still there, dark purple and ugly across my side. “And unless you've got superpowers I don't know about, you can't make bruises disappear in your sleep.”
Declan's hand moved to my ribs with careful gentleness. His fingers traced the edges of the worst bruise, featherlight, like he was afraid of hurting me. “These look worse this morning.”
“Everything looks worse in daylight.” I caught his hand before he could pull away, laced our fingers together. “Come on. Shower. Before we both start overthinking this.”
The bathroom was all steam and heat and tile that was cold against my back when Declan pushed me up against it. Water poured down between us, hot enough to turn our skin pink,while he kissed me like he was still trying to prove last night had happened.
His cock was hard against my hip. Mine was half-interested despite having just come, apparently ready to go again because my body had decided that years of denial meant we had a lot of catching up to do.
I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. The solid weight of his chest. The flex of his thighs. The way his hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave new bruises. The scrape of his beard against my jaw when he kissed down my neck.
My body was responding faster than it should. Blood was rushing south again, my cock filling out as Declan's mouth worked down my throat, teeth scraping against my pulse point. His hands were everywhere, mapping my body like he was learning territory he'd wanted to explore for years.
