Page 35 of Below The Surface
He nuzzles my thigh and hums. His mouth literally hovers over my dick.
“Wait.” I cringe. “I haven’t showered.”
“Don’t really care, as long as you don’t have dick cheese.” He leans up and presses his nose to my armpit and breathes deeply. “Mmmm.”
“Yeah, no dick cheese.” I moan when his tongue glides across my shaft. He makes eye contact, and it’s as if he’s mesmerizing me. I can’t look away.
“So fucking good.” Kay threads his fingers through my pubes and lets his hands roam upward, tracing the line of my happy trail with a kind of reverence. He’s not in a rush, and that’s not like him. From what I can tell, he usually wants everything as fast as possible, like he’s scared it’ll be snatched away. But right now, he’s slow, savoring, nose pressed into my groin as if he’s breathing in the scent of me for later.
Then, still with his lips wrapped around the crown of my cock, he lays his head on my thigh and just… rests there. Like it’s a fucking pillow. Like this is the world’s most natural thing. To be perched between my legs, drifting in and out of sleep, my dick in his mouth. He sighs, the vibration almost enough that I have to clench my fists to keep from bucking into his mouth.
“I could fall asleep like this,” he says, voice muffled, “just warming your cock.” He sounds content about it, like he’s found the best pillow on earth and that’s my thigh.
My ears go hot. There’s a weird tenderness to it, the way he’s so shamelessly himself, chasing the smallest pleasure. Part of me wants to tease him. “I don’t know that I could sleep with your lips around my dick,” I admit. “Too much temptation.”
He pops off with a wet sound and leans up to grin at me, his short hair sticking out in every direction, eyes wild with challenge. “We could try sometime.” He nudges my hip with his nose, then licks a stripe along my shaft, drawing it out, watching for my reaction.
He takes me back into his mouth, slower this time, and his hands creep up to my chest. He pinches a nipple, and it’s like he’s found a switch I didn’t know was there. My hips jerk in response, and I groan, which only encourages him. I always forget about my nipples. He twists, squeezes, and all the while keeps up the steady pressure of his mouth, not stopping, not faltering.
“You look like an angel and suck dick like an incubus,” I say and throw my head back.
He manages a muffled laugh, tongue pressed flat and hot against me, and then he’s going deeper again, letting me hit the back of his throat, taking it until his nose is buried in my pubes again. He breathes through his nose. There’s the constriction and flex of his throat around me. He holds it, jaw straining, eyes squeezed shut.
Why the fuck is that hot as sin? I don’t have a better word for it, and the sight of him with cheeks flushed, and tear tracks shining down his cheeks, makes me want to reach down and pull him up for a kiss, just to remind myself that this is real.
But he doesn’t stop. He’s relentless. His hands grip my thighs like he’s hanging on for dear life, and then he moans, a low, desperate sound, and I feel the vibration all the way up my spine. He’s choking himself on purpose and loving it. It’s erotic, and a little wild.
Tears spill from his eyes now, but it doesn’t look uncomfortable. He’s blushing, sweat beads on his brow, his body’s pressed so close I can feel the heat of him everywhere.I want to kiss the tears away, to tell him he’s ridiculous and perfect.
He pulls off with a gasp, coughing a little, then wipes his face with the back of his hand. “I want your dick in me always,” he says, making me laugh.
“I can’t always be in you.”
He pouts at my dick. “I know, but I still want it.” He ducks down and nuzzles my hip, then bites gently at the crease. “I like it.”
Not for the first time, I wish he had hair long enough I could tug.
He starts again, mouth soft this time, just lips and tongue, and it takes everything I have not to lose it finally. His hands slide down, gripping my hips, holding me in place. He’s not letting go. Even his nails dig in and I love the bite of them.
I don’t even realize I’m moaning until he looks up at me, pleased as anything, and doubles down.
He starts fucking his mouth on my dick in earnest, bobbing his head up and down, squeezing my thighs so tight I can barely think. Every time he gets to the base, his nose nudges my skin, and he hums, like he’s proud of himself for not gagging. The tears are steady now, but he’s smiling through it, eyes locked on mine.
That’s when I realize how much he loves this. How much he loves the thrill of not breathing. Of choking. Of bringing me to the brink and not letting me come just yet.
He doesn’t stop. The pleasure builds, the warning signs clear as day. I grip the back of his head, not to control him, just to ground myself.
He moans again, deeper this time, and I know he’s getting off on it. He humps the bed as he sucks me off.
I bite my lip, trying to hold back, but he’s not having it. He speeds up, hands roaming my body, touching every part of mehe can reach. He’s the most expressive and handsy lover I’ve ever had. It’s addicting. He makes me feel like I’m the only person he’s ever had the pleasure of making love to.
The pressure builds and builds, and then I’m coming, hard, with a shout I try to muffle with my hand. He swallows every drop, and doesn’t pull off until I practically have to push him away.
Fuck. I want to keep him. Can I?
He flops onto the bed beside me, grinning. “Best protein shakeever,” he says, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. There’s a wet spot on the front of his pajamas.
“You enjoy yourself, too?” I tug him up into my arms.
