Chapter 7 DIEGO #3
His bright blue eyes glanced up again; now his smile was lazy. And, to my surprise and delight, smug. He licked his wet lips and asked, “You good?”
“I was about to cum,” I informed him.
His smile grew sharper.
“You fucker.” But it felt like a blessing, not an insult, breathed like this.
“Keep playing,” he murmured, nuzzling my dick again.
I tilted my hips to try and rub off on him, but he adjusted accordingly, so I could just barely feel his swollen, hot lips brushing my shaft. I groaned, but now I was grinning. “I can’t concentrate on it.”
“Try,” was all he said. No please, no thank you, just a quiet and utterly sincere, Try.
I’d worked really, really hard to be in charge of all our hookups at first. To keep it bossy and under my control. Even though I always wanted…
I shivered again and resituated the controller. Unpaused. Desperate and dripping and so incredibly fucking delighted.
He hummed as if in approval, his lips vibrating against the base of my cock, then went back to sucking on my balls.
They’d gone a little sticky, so he slicked them up again, until spit dripped into my asscrack.
I inched down farther, trying to open up some more; he wedged two slippery fingers against my taint and then pressed up and in.
I slid even farther down, desperate for more.
He teased my taint, barely reaching my hole and then pulling back, and when it made my cock jump, he wrapped one hand around it.
When I tried to fuck up into his grip, he used his other hand to hold one of my hips tight against the couch so I could barely wiggle, let alone rock.
I gave a little growl of frustration, and he slipped his fingertip into my asshole.
I tried to grind down on him, and he pulled it back, pressing into my taint instead.
“Fuckkk, Taran,” I whined. “I’m gonna cry.”
That made him look up, fixing me with that bright, beautiful gaze. His smile was still smug, but also a little bit silly, like he was almost as drunk on me as I was on him. “Do you wanna cry?”
Before I could stop myself, I breathed, “Kinda.”
I didn’t even have time to regret it; he immediately started stroking my dick.
He spit on my dickhead, smoothed it down over the length, and worked me slow and tight.
The other hand slipped backward again, so his fingertips pressed against my taint.
If I shifted just right, he barely pressed into my hole.
When he didn’t stop me, I kept doing it, making just the tiniest, almost somatic movement in rhythm with his hand wringing out my cock.
The circuit started to close again, electricity jumping all through my veins.
My balls felt so fucking heavy, pulled up and tight, and I wanted so, so badly to empty them all over his hand and face and t-shirt.
My internal rhythm stuttered as I tried to grind down on his fingers harder, to get more of him inside me.
He slipped his fingers out from under me and let go of my dick. It swayed there, dripping again, and I made a sound I didn’t even know I was capable of. Not even Drake’s toys and tricks had gotten it out of me, gut-wrenching and pleading and pathetic.
Taran’s wet mouth fell open, and he leaned back on his heels, gaze sliding up and down me appreciatively.
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to scream at him.
I wanted to rip off his jeans, free the fat bulge down his right thigh, and bounce on it like someone was going to take it away.
Instead I just writhed, lifting my hips to fuck into nothing, making my cock jump.
For one thing, it felt fucking good, and for another, I was hoping it’d tempt him to touch me again.
His swollen lips formed a little o and he blew out a long sigh. “You should see yourself, baby.”
My skin pebbled up with pleasure. I realized I was still holding the controller and put it aside, sliding one hand up my own belly.
I pushed my tank top up, showing off my hard stomach, then my Leo tattoo---which I knew he fucking loved.
I kept going, rubbing my hard nipple with my thumb, making my dick jump again. “Fuck,” and I moaned again.
He licked his lips, rubbed his cock through his jeans.
“You like teasing the fuck out of me?” I huffed. I still had very little blood to spare for my brain, but I was starting to come out of the spiral of stupid again.
“Is it obvious?”
“Could be more obvious.” I focused on his dick, struggling to get out of those jeans. “Lemme see? Please?”
He pulled out his belt in one incredibly hot motion. Then undid his button and zipper. His fat cock shaft bulged out of the front slit in his boxers, still trying to escape.
I whimpered again, then bit at my bottom lip to try and stop it. Too late, though. I toyed with my own nipple, not wanting to blink, not wanting to miss a goddamn thing.
He lifted his heavy cock, letting it all out the front slit. So fucking juicy, the head glistening with precum, proof that he was having almost as much fun as I was.
“I want it,” I whispered, making my dick jump again, rocking my hips. “God, I fucking want it.”
He lifted up onto his knees again, slid his shorts and jeans down, peeled them off while I watched and writhed desperately. His heavy balls hung higher than usual, tightened with his dick, and his cock stood out straight, straining.
“More than you wanna cry?” he asked with an almost goofy, crooked little smile.
“Ah!” I pinched my nip hard, sending electricity through my whole body and straight into my cock. “Both. I want both.”
“Greedy.” His smile straightened out, and he leaned forward, pushing my knees apart. He licked up my cock again, then went down on me---still agonizingly slowly, controlled.
My head spun. At first, I tried to fuck into him, but he stilled me with that hand at my hip again, made me relax into his careful pace.
My whole body---except my dick, obviously—melted into the couch.
Everything was so hypersensitive, focused on his warm, wet mouth, the smoothness of his tongue, the slickness of his spit, I just gave up and let it happen.
I felt myself leaking, ready to cum again, this time with a faint ache in my balls just to take it to the next level. Sure enough, he pulled up, leaving me wet and throbbing again. I sucked in air, a sound almost like a sob.
He buried his face in my belly, still exposed, and nuzzled me. My cock caught on his t-shirt, and I had a wild urge to grab him and frot until I came all over his tits. “Fucking agony,” I croaked.
“You make it look so good,” he murmured into my navel. “I could do this all night, Diego.”
I shuddered at the sound of my name like that, rough and adoring. “Would you? If I wanted?”
“Anything you want,” he murmured.
But edging the fuck out of me had been all his idea; I sure as fuck never had the patience to do it myself. It had been his idea, and his execution, and my whole world had shrunken down to him and me and this couch and my need to nut spectacularly and soon.
“Just a little more,” I whispered, once I caught my breath.
He jerked me off slowly again, spitting when it started to get sticky, petting my aching balls in his free hand.
My ass was halfway off the seat by then, so I angled toward him, and he took the hint, pressing two fingers into my hole.
He let me rock against them, stretching myself, giving me just that little hint of the hot fullness of his cock in me.
This time, when I felt myself standing on the edge, I pulled back and whimpered.
He let me go and murmured, “Wow. Really fucking good.”
I shuddered full body, groaning as a deep ache sliced through my belly. Fuck, I was pretty much always horny, but this was… this was fucking…
I’d think of what it was later, actually. No words. Just cum. Or my balls were gonna fucking explode. “Please,” I managed.
He palmed my balls, but with the other hand held my cock straight so he could go down on me again.
This time, the wet heat of him soothed the ache in me, and I moaned with not just pleasure but relief every time he took me throat-deep.
The ache went deeper, and it wasn’t just in my balls and my belly anymore, but all through me; a bone-deep need.
I fisted one hand in his hair, careful not to push or pull, and whispered, “God, please.”
He hummed, and I shuddered at the vibration. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.”
He kept going, a little faster now, his cheeks hollowing out as he pulled up, humming as his lips hit my belly.
It fucking hurt so good. Even my nips hurt, one of them rubbing against the soft fabric of my shirt, the other cold and hard.
“God, please, don’t stop,” I tried to say.
The ache twisted up deep inside me, looped around and back.
When the circuit closed this time, pleasure took over, but a thousand times hotter and harder than before.
I tried to beg him, “Please, Taran. Please, god, please let me cum, please, I need to cum so bad…”
But the world was fading out, and I shuddered, and shuddered, and shuddered some more until the ache returned, now hollow and empty.
Taran swallowed around me, took all of it, and swallowed again as I emptied into him for what felt like forever.
Like I’d been saving it up for weeks, like I’d never cum before in my life.
Okay, that’s crazy, but goddamn if that wasn’t what it felt like.
After my most powerful orgasm in recent memory finally subsided, I had to wriggle back upward; I couldn’t handle his mouth anymore. Everything simultaneously hurt like hell and wanted more.
He let me go and sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm and grinning. “Fuck,” he said, voice rough and raw. “That was fun.”
I huffed but couldn’t speak yet. I felt like my bones were made of Jell-O. I slid off the couch and into his arms; thankfully he had enough brain left to catch me and gather me into his lap. I smashed my mouth into his, still utterly breathless and a total fucking mess.
He kissed me back like I wasn’t absolutely shit at it right then, burying one hand in my curls and using the other arm to hold me tight against his solid, slightly sweaty body.
I felt small, like that, even though I wasn’t—and to my surprise I didn’t hate the sensation.
“I can’t believe you just made me cum that hard without even using your dick,” I muttered into his lips.
“Think you could cum even harder if I did?” He replied, his chest rumbling against mine.
“I think we’re gonna find out.” I bit at his bottom lip and pulled back a little, trying to catch my breath.
My muscles all felt loose, like I’d just had a really good workout, the kind I was gonna regret tomorrow.
And my dick was still hypersensitive and---nope.
No more of that. “Just—maybe not right this second. Fuck.”
He laughed silently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Little more relaxed now?”
I goddamn near said, God, I love you.
And that’s when I realized I was in way worse trouble than I’d thought.
So instead, I said something equally true but far less frightening: “I’m half-dead, but I really want you to fuck my face, Taran.”
Classic Diego, I know.