Chapter 15 #2
He moves immediately, getting on all fours near the edge.
I look at his ass, presented to me, waiting for my next move.
Seeing him like this, so vulnerable, makes my heart stutter.
I drag my hand over his skin, tracing thick scars that wind nearly down between his legs.
I want to know what happened to him, but I say nothing, afraid I’ll ruin the spell.
I feel like I’m standing next to myself, someone else commanding my limbs to move as they wish. I’m watching someone who looks just like me slide his hands over Aba?’ exposed ass. I see it happen from afar, but I feel it all.
When I raise my right hand into the air, somehow, inexplicably, I feel more myself than I ever have.
A hollow smack resonates in the room when I make contact with his skin. He arches his back in response, a gasp escaping his lips. My hand stings more than I’d imagine, the feeling travelling up my arm.
“Do you want more?” I ask.
“Yes,” he replies, fisting his hands around the sheets in anticipation.
I hit him a bit harder this time. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want more,” his voice is hoarse when he replies.
I slap him two more times in rapid succession. A muffled groan leaves his throat, and I close my eyes, wanting to hear that sound again and again.
“Harder,” he adds through gritted teeth as I’m rubbing his back gently.
“You dare tell me what to do?” I smirk, remembering his words on that night not too long ago.
“I’m sorry,” he whines and leans back, searching for my hand to strike him again, seeking the sting.
I comply, my palm burning, my fingers electric. “What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry I shouted at you.”
The room is filled with the sounds of flesh on flesh, his ochre skin blooming burgundy under my hand. I glide my fingers over his back, soothing the redness as best I can.
“Please,” he whispers, “I want more.”
I obey his wishes and strike him again. My fingers tingle, nearly numb.
“I’m sorry I treated you like garbage.” His voice is breathless. “I’m sorry I want more,” he adds, almost a whimper. “I’m sorry I cannot stop myself.” Aba? moans quietly, clearly trying to suppress the sound.
I rub his skin with my hand, and it feels surprisingly warm to the touch. I trace his scars with my fingers until his breath settles. Then, I step back, my eyes catching on his leaking cock.
“Sit,” I say, still standing at the bed’s edge.
He turns around until he’s facing me again, then sits. His eyes are the shade of dried wine, his lips flushed and glistening. He’s looking at me in a way that makes my head spin. Like I’m everything.
“You think me disgusting?” Aba? asks, his voice too gentle, too vulnerable.
“Despicable,” I add with a grin.
He parts his lips. Needy.
“You want me in your mouth?” I ask, and he nods eagerly.
“You want my cock between your lips so bad, it makes your mouth water?”
“Yes,” he breathes.
“You’re so needy. Can’t live without my cock inside you, can you?”
“I want you to fill me.”
I can feel his shallow breath cold on my hand. “Every hole?”
“Yes,” he admits. “All of me.”
I climb onto the bed and sit at the head. Leaving my clothes on, I free my cock through the fly. Aba? crawls toward me, placing himself between my legs. He sits there, watching me so hungrily, it makes me feel like I’ll lose myself right then and there.
“Show me how much you want me,” I order.
Without hesitation, he grabs my shaft and puts the entire length in his mouth.
The feeling is overwhelming: tight, cold, and soft lips.
His eyes never leave mine, watching my every reaction.
The sadness never left. But now there’s something new.
Sadness joined by infinite hunger. He’s sucking my cock so greedily, like he needs my cum to live, moaning around my width with each move.
I try to empty my mind to hold on as long as I can. But the way he’s looking at me, the desperate sounds coming from his mouth—it’s all too much.
“Enough,” I groan, and he takes my cock out with a sigh. “Disappointed are you?” I ask.
He nods in agreement.
“Maybe I should let you suffer and just leave,” I say, “Or should I fuck you so hard until you scream my name, letting the entire castle hear you?”
“Yes,” he gasps between suppressed whimpers, a sound that tugs at my soul. My cock is so hard, it hurts, and my body is begging for release.
Aba? turns on his back, presenting himself to me. It’s an invitation I couldn’t resist even if I wanted to. I slide between his legs, nudging his knees to spread them wider.
I’m not experienced by any means, and I’m able to count my sexual encounters on one hand.
I never felt the urge to be intimate with someone else.
I wanted to try sex, sure, but the few times I did, I never wanted to face whoever I was fucking.
In fact, I’ve always preferred to be as separate from the other person as humanly possible.
But now, I feel this strange need to watch Aba?’ every move. I want to witness each contraction of pleasure and every subtle expression of his eyes—the curl of his lashes, the pale freckles on his cheek.
I push two fingers into his mouth, and he sucks them as greedily as he sucked my cock, like he can’t help it.
I pull them out and circle his hole, slicking it slowly.
His chest jerks up, his breath sharp in anticipation when I let saliva drip over his skin.
When I push a finger into his cold flesh, as deliberately as I can, his legs shudder around my hips.
I relish the look on his face. His lips fall open.
Hands fist the sheets. Eyebrows draw together as I stretch him slowly.
“Harder,” he says between ragged breaths.
“I bet you want me to fuck you dry,” I whisper as I add a second finger.
“Yes,” he groans between his teeth.
I feel him softening for me; he’s leaking so much onto his stomach, it glistens in the firelight.
When Aba? feels ready, I put my cock at his entrance, and he gasps in anticipation.
I enter him as slowly as my body lets me, but I’m so eager, it takes me every ounce of self-discipline to slow down.
Even though I want to fuck him rough and fast, I force myself to drag every delicious second out as much as I can.
I angle my body so that I’m exactly above him, his leaking cock trapped between our stomachs.
His waist is so thick, it stretches my legs more than I’m used to, but the subtle pain only adds to my pleasure.
Aba? is still looking up at me, his face filled with such desperate yearning, I can hardly bear it.
With his eyes, he’s screaming every dirty thing he’s always fantasied about.
He opens his mouth again, begging for another taste.
I let saliva drip down onto his open lips, and he licks it up like the rarest ambrosia.
I pull my cock out to the head and then slowly slide back into him.
The moan that escapes him when I bottom out makes me shiver.
He feels impossibly tight and utterly delicious.
Aba? bites down on his lip, light gleaming on his teeth.
A bead of blood forms on the corner of his mouth, and he licks it fast, eyes flashing crimson.
Thick legs straddle my waist, squeezing my ribs tightly until they ache, pulling me even deeper inside him.
“You want to pleasure me?” I ask as I drive into him.
“Yes,” he replies, arching his back further.
“You want to touch me?” I add as I quicken my pace.
“Yes,” he whimpers. “I want you to fuck me until I’m nothing.” His lashes flutter.
I’m so close to him now, holding myself only centimetres above his parted lips.
We’re sharing each other’s breaths, swallowing the other’s moans as they escape.
I can’t resist the urge anymore. I clutch the bed frame, fucking him at an unhinged pace.
He lifts his hips to meet every thrust. Insatiable.
I’m feeling as desperate as Aba? looks—as desperate to touch every part of him, taste every inch of his body, melt into his impossibly soft lips.
I split in half. I feel the pressure building inside.
It’s unbearable. I can’t contain it, can’t think, and when I come, a raw moan rips from Aba?’ throat.
His arms fold around my chest, embracing me as he comes, too, clutching me so tightly, I can barely breathe, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
When I’m fully spent, I collapse onto Aba? in blissful exhaustion. Still holding me, he turns his face into the pillow, and I hear it, even over my own heavy breaths: the wet, raw sounds he’s trying to bury in the fabric.
Had I hurt him? But he’s not pulling away. He’s gripping the covers tightly and folding into himself. Just…breaking.
I feel strangely detached but simultaneously completely present.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I sit, and even exhausted and drained, I pull him up, hold him, pretend that, somehow, this is enough.
His ragged whimpers slow down as I stroke his hair, his tears caught by the pillow below.
I lean back into the covers, close my eyes, and listen to nothing but the sounds of Aba?’ despair.