"Mm?"
"I love being on my knees for you."
God, I’ll never get tired of hearing that.
"Open up again, baby."
He opens. I push my cock back into his mouth, slower now, deeper now, and he takes it with his eyes locked on mine and tears just starting to gather at the corners. His own cock is hard again between his thighs, untouched, leaking onto the duvet.
I can feel myself building. The bond is so wide between us I can feel his arousal as a second heat in my own gut. I'm not going to come in his mouth. Not tonight. I want to be in him when I do.
"Off, sweetheart. Off."
He pulls off. Reluctant. Lips chasing the head of my cock for one more second before he lets it go.
"On your back. Now."
He lays back.
He's flushed all the way down his chest. Cock leaking. Mouth open and obscene and desperate. I settle between his thighs, push them up and back with my hands until his knees are bent toward his chest and he's open for me, slick smeared down to his hamstrings, his hole flushed and twitching from where my tongue and my fingers were.
"Atlas—Atlas, please—"
I take myself in hand. Drag the head of my cock slow along the inside of his thigh.
"Tell me how you want it, sweetheart."
"...what?"
"How you want me to fuck you. Use your words."
His face goes redder. He turns his head into the pillow.
"Atlas—"
"Look at me."
He looks at me. Eyes wet. Mouth open.
"Tell me. How. You want it."
"I—I don't know how to—"
"Yes you do."
I drag the head of my cock down over his hole. Press there—just the tip, just enough to make him feel the threat of it—and pull back. He sobs. His hips chase me.
"Atlas, please—"
"Words, baby."
"I—you know how I—"
"I want to hear you say it."
I rub the head of my cock in slow circles around his entrance. Smear his slick around. Press the tip in just enough that his rim catches and stretches around the head, and then pull out before he can take it. He whimpers, hips jerking up off the duvet.
"Please—"
