My hands are clenched in the sheets and I’m trying hard not to grab his head. He slides his hands under my hips, though, and squeezes. Which is all the encouragement I need. I dig my heels into the mattress, thrusting up enough to get that last infinitesimal inch down his throat.
Stars explode behind my eyes and my orgasm tears through me. Silas’s throat milks me dry and I slump back on the bed. Silas licks my spent cock clean and sits up between my splayed thighs.
“Mmm,” he says. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, looks at it, and licks a last couple of drops of come from it. “My favorite breakfast in bed.”
“Not a very healthy breakfast,” I say, but I’m too sated to chastise him.
He grins at me. “Not true. I Googled it once. There’s a lot of protein in come. And it’s got low calories.”
“I don’t think man can survive on come alone for very long,” I say. He’s adorable in his cheerfulness. His hair is sticking up six ways from Sunday and his cock is jutting out between his thighs. The balls of his ladder piercings create a double rainbow on the underside of his shaft.
It’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
“Stroke yourself,” I tell him. “Show me how you get yourself off.”
He doesn’t need convincing, my eager boy, and takes himself in hand. His fingers are long and slim, the nails cut short but painted the same rainbow of colors as the beads in his piercings. The paint is chipped on a few nails and I make a mental note to schedule a manicure appointment for him tomorrow.
Until I remember that today is our last day together. And that I’m not responsible for taking care of him after today.
I put that thought aside. No use worrying about tomorrow when I’ve got this beautiful boy on his knees before me now, stroking his beautiful cock, looking at me with his beautiful eyes, shining with lust.
He starts slow, dragging his hand from root to tip. He cups himself underneath so that his palm rubs the ladder bars under the skin and his fingertips and thumb barely skim along the top of his shaft. Until he reaches the head and his fingers and thumb come together to circle it and bump over the glans.
I stack the pillows behind my head, propping myself up for a better view. He spreads his knees, sinks a little more onto his heels, and takes his time stroking himself.
His breath is coming a little faster now and he slides his other hand up his body to pinch a nipple. I want to touch him. I want to push him onto his back, knock his hands away and take control of his pleasure. I tuck my hands under my head to keep from doing it.
I asked for this. I told him to get himself off so I could watch. The small ache of denying the control I want to take is worth it.
Silas is still watching me. His strokes are faster now and his fingers are plucking at and twisting his nipple ring.
“That’s it, pretty boy. Show your Daddy how you like to be touched.”
Seventeen
Silas
Oh god. Logan’s words do more to me than my own hand on my dick. When he looks at me like he is now, I feel pretty. Not just hot because I’m naked and I’ve got my dick in my hand and who doesn’t get a little turned on when they’re looking at a guy stroking himself?
These last few months, the only way I could get Lance to have sex was to be naked when he came to bed and already hard. He’d let me suck him and stay awake long enough for me to jerk myself off, though he quit touching my dick when I got the piercings, even after they healed and I told him he could.
But with Logan, I feel seen. Like he sees all of me—the parts I show to the world and the parts I’m afraid to show—and he actually likes everything. I love that.
I almost told him that I love him. Last night, after he spanked me. When I felt so quiet and peaceful that I nearly lost the filter between my brain and my mouth. But I caught myself just in time and I don’t think Logan noticed.
Although there’s little he doesn’t notice. He noticed right away that I like it when sex hurts a little. Lance never noticed that. How can I have had sex for two years with a person who never bothered to notice—or ask—what I like?
“Silas.” Logan’s voice brings me back and I remember that I’m supposed to be putting on a show for my Daddy. “Let me see you come, baby boy.”
I get back to stroking myself and the closer I get, the softer Logan’s face goes. His eyes flick from my dick to my nipples to my face. He’s watching how I touch myself, yeah, but he’s also looking at me. How each stroke or tug on my nipples affects me. Like he’s not so much cataloging what motions I like—though I bet he’s doing that too—but really reveling in my pleasure for my sake.
And so I quit thinking about this as an exhibition and just sink into the way it feels. I focus on the sparks of electricity zinging through my nerves at each twist of a nipple ring, the slick friction when the head of my dick slides through the tight circle of my fingers, the heat coiling at the base of my spine, and my Daddy looking at me like I’m the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
I think it’s his smile that does me in. A small one, just a tiny lift of the corners of his lips. He’s got answering crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and I recognize this is his private smile, meant just for me.
I tip over the cliff and shudder as my dick jerks and empties all over his chest and groin. My heart is pounding and I feel light-headed. Daddy sits up before I’m even finished and wraps his arms around me, holding me upright and close to him.
“That’s it, sweetheart.” He’s murmuring other things in my ear and I don’t catch all of it because I’m still shaking and panting and my pulse is pounding in my temples. I close my eyes and rest my forehead on his chest.
