Page 55 of Balance

My fingers grazed his nipple and he whined, his cock pulsing in my hand as he came. And came. Hot streaks of cum coated my fingers and dripped down over them to pool on his skin.

“Sorry, oh fuck,” Troye managed to say at last, once the surprise of his release allowed him to speak again. “Daddy,” he panted, realizing that I was still stroking him. “Daddy?”

“Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not mad, but I’m not done playing with you yet. You have such a pretty cock, and see, it’s still hard for me. Isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck.” A new kind of desperation entered Troye’s voice. The overwrought kind. The overstimulated kind of desperation that had him tensing every muscle in his body to try and stop himself from jerking away from me.

“Please,” his voice was sharp, all jagged edges from fracturing under his own pleasure.

“Is it too much? Are you yellow or red?”

The whine that came out of Troye sounded like it had been pulled from his actual soul, and it was so full of distress that I almost stopped. But then his brow furrowed and his eyes scrunched tight.

“Green. I—fuck. Fuck. I’m green.”

Green meant I could keep going. Green meant that though he was struggling, it still wasn’t too much. Green meant that I could wring another orgasm out of him, whether he wanted one or not. Though he might not want one, with the way he was overstimulated, with the way every touch of my hand on his cock was exquisite agony. But he’d endure it for me.

Having already come, it took longer to get him to the edge again, and I was relentless, using his cum for lube, and then adding more lube until he was wet and messy for me. His hair stuck out in all directions. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he’d shed a few tears by the time his second orgasm was imminent. His skin shone with sweat. And he was so good for me. So willing and obedient. So determined to make me happy.

“I need—please,” he moaned. “Please.”

“You can come whenever you need to.”

Permission was all he needed because in that next moment his cock jerked and a few more drops of cum trickled out. Not much, but that was to be expected. Less expected was the way Troye jerked when he came, like he was coming apart at the seams, like there was a supernova happening inside of him.

I let go of his cock and he sighed with relief, his whole body going limp. Instead of lying there, he curled in toward me, seeking comfort. Seeking touch and connection. After untangling his hands from his shirt and bringing his arms down, I gathered him close and stroked my fingers through his hair while he came back to himself.

Troye’s breathing took a few minutes to even out but eventually, when it did, I felt him shift around and try to get to my cock.

“Did you need something?” I asked him, content to just hold him. I didn’t need him to perform for me. Sex wasn’t a tit-for-tat event where we traded orgasms like hockey cards. I’d have been content to just hold him and enjoy the shape of his body curled against mine and the heat of his skin. But Troye looked at me and there was still a need in his expression. It shimmered in his eyes, and he ran his fingertips down the side of my face.

“Can I taste you?”

“Of course, darling.” Before I let him do anything else, I dragged his mouth to mine and plunged my tongue into his mouth. I put every bit of affection and love I had for him in that kiss, willing him to feel it in his bones, in the deepest parts of him. I wanted him to know that I loved him. Wanted him to feel it in every kiss, see it in every expression. I wanted to imprint myself on his mind, heart, body, so that there’d never be anyone else for him except for me. Because that’s how I felt about him.

Troye, of course, wanted other things, and he kissed his way down my jaw, then my neck. His fingers made quick work of the buttons on my shirt and pushing it out of his way so his mouth could explore my skin.

His tongue traced the edge of my nipple, and it made me want to grab his head and force it down, to command him to suck and bite and mark me. He used one hand to prop himself up, but the other was busy exploring my body. Fingertips dug into flesh, danced over my skin, lit my nerves on fire. In his every touch, every kiss, every breath, I could feel the way he loved me. He touched me with a reverence I never knew I’d love feeling. He kissed me with a tenderness that nearly broke me. But it was the way that he looked at me that was my undoing.

Troye looked at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen. When I looked into his eyes, I saw endless affection there. Adoration. I saw love, raw and real and unconditional. He didn’t love me if. He didn’t love me except. He loved me. Full stop. Period. End of sentence.

“I love you,” I told him, unable to keep the words inside. I knew love wasn’t words. Love was action. Love was doing. Love wasn’t just saying. But Troye gazed at me like I was the moon.

“I love you too.” He leaned close and brushed a kiss against my lips. I tried chasing his mouth, but he pinned me in place with a hand pressed against my chest.

And then he kissed his way down my body. He shuffled his way down the bed, and I lay still as he worked on the fly of my pants, and then fished my cock out. I helped only a little by lifting myself so he could pull my pants down far enough to get them out of the way. But only barely.

The first touch of Troye’s lips on my cock was them brushing against the shaft. I clenched my muscles and made my cock jump, evading his touch. Troye looked up at me and narrowed his eyes, then without even blinking, he wrapped a hand around the base of my dick, capturing it for himself. He held eye contact as he brought his mouth closer to the head, then his gaze fell away and Troye moved lower. His tongue connected with my balls, just below the base of my cock.

When he licked his way up the underside of my dick, I thought I was going to explode. I couldn’t look away from him, not even if I tried. Troye was beautiful always, but especially when he was open like this. Vulnerable and relaxed. When the only thing he had to worry about was how to please me, that’s when he was the most at peace.

The tip of his tongue swirled around the head of my cock, lapping up the precum that dribbled out. His lashes fluttered, and the moan he let out went through me like a grassfire. Hot and fast, rolling over me from head to toe, leaving no part of me unscathed. Troye grabbed my hands and put them on his head, then looked up at me.

“Are you sure?” I asked, already sliding my fingers into his hair. Already gripping him tighter and tighter. My muscles tensed like a coiled spring, and Troye nodded. His eyes fell shut, his mouth opened, going slack. My fingers gripped tighter, pressing into his skull, pulling his hair.

My hips worked in tandem with my hands, thrusting and retreating as my hands held him still or forced him to take more of my dick. He gagged a couple times, and it felt like a victory, like the ultimate surrender, for him to be so gone on me, so desperate for me, so in love with me that he was willing to choke on my cock. It sent me over the edge, and I barely had time to warn him.

“I’m—oh fuck.” My words snapped off as I came. It was as if my whole brain shut down and for a few blissful seconds, I was just sensation. Just white-hot pleasure and sharp inhales of oxygen. My body wasn’t quite mine. For a few moments, I just… was. I was warm and sticky and not quite real. I released Troye from my grasp, and he let out a sigh and rested, using me for a pillow, mouth still dangerously close to my cock.