Julian #2
“Listen,” I start, turning my body to face him fully as the book sits on the podium, daunting with its presence.
“I’m not religious, so I’m not afraid of reading this.
I’ll do it, and you can continue to read other things; that way, you’re not involved.
But I genuinely think this could have the information we need. ”
Something in me is screaming; it’s telling me that I need to pick through these pages one at a time, and if I do, I’ll find what I am searching for.
“I don’t know…” Atlas mutters.
“Hey.” Just as my dad did this morning, I place my hand on the back of Atlas’s neck. His skin is hot, and he startles slightly, big eyes looking up at me. “I can do this. Let me handle it, alright?”
Atlas is quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then, with a small shudder, he nods once.
“Alright,” he agrees. “But if you start to read anything too demonic, promise you’ll stop. It’ll mean nothing good for us if we open the gates for something even worse to enter our world.”
Now, if this Black Book is a book of dark spells, then I’m not sure I believe it can harm us much. I don’t really believe in magic. But then again, I didn’t believe in demons before either.
“Promise,” I assure him.
He exhales a soft breath, his eyes lingering once again on the book before him.
After a moment, I realize my hand is still resting on the nape of his neck. Only I can’t bring myself to remove it. The feel of his skin, and how the tips of my fingers are resting so perfectly over his pulse, is riling me up and setting my own skin on fire.
I want to hold him tighter; I want to wrap my palm around his throat and squeeze, watching as his eyes roll back and his pulse flutters in my grip.
As if sensing my dirty thoughts, Atlas’s eyes flick back to meet my own, his lips parting slightly.
“You’re hot,” I tell him, much like the first time we ever touched.
“I know,” he whispers.
Atlas doesn’t push me away; he doesn’t step back or try to create space. Instead, as my hand slides from his nape and around to the front of his throat, just as I imagined doing moments prior, he leans into my touch, forcing his neck into my palm.
I tighten my grip, watching his skin pale under the weight of my fingers. A stuttered, soft breath leaves his lips, and I watch in fascination as his face begins to redden.
Hooded blue eyes stare up at me, as if he can’t find the will to look away. I’m gazing between where my hand lies, his parted lips, and that lustful gaze as if I’ll miss something vital by only taking in a single part of him.
Then, just as I’m loosening my grip to give him some room to breathe a little easier, his hand snaps up to grip my wrist, keeping me from leaving him. A small, desperate whine leaves his lips.
Motherfucker.
“You want me to hold you?” I murmur, digging my fingers deeper into his flesh.
Atlas gives me a small nod, another small, tortured puff of air leaving him.
“I can feel your pulse,” I add, and Atlas’s eyelids flutter shut, his body swaying into mine.
He likes that. He likes that I can feel his heart beating for me.
But now his face is starting to darken to a concerning color, and I don’t really feel like knocking the pretty man out, so I shift my grip until I’m holding his jaw, keeping him close to me.
“What do you want, sweet boy?” I ask him, and Atlas gifts me a small keening noise.
“I…” he begins, but pauses to keep gathering his breath. “I want to taste you.”
My eyes widen a comical amount. Taste me?
Listen, I’m a pleaser. I get off heavily on making someone else feel good, so I quite enjoy tasting my partner and bringing them to release with just that. But it’s not often that my partner wants to do the same in return, and I’ve never had an issue with it. Not everyone likes it.
But now Atlas is in my grip, peering up at me with wide, watery eyes, asking to do just that.
Or did he mean a kiss? He could very well mean a kiss.
“You want a kiss, hm?” I feel him out, leaning down until our lips barely touch.
“Y-yes,” Atlas stutters, his eyelids fluttering once more. “But can I also… would you like it if… I’ve never done it, but I want to try to taste you.”
It’s my turn to try to catch my breath. If he’s saying what I think he is, he won’t have to try too hard. Even without a lick of skill, just staring at his mouth wrapped around me will have me exploding in minutes.
“You want my cock in your mouth, then?” I purr, petting gently at the skin of his defined jaw.
Atlas sighs, soft and relieved. “Yes, please.”
“Why would a sweet boy like you want to dirty yourself like that?” I ask.
I can’t seem to understand it; I guess this kind of pleasure always felt like the job of the more dominant of the pair.
Aside from Landon, who was equal to me on every level, so we switched off pretty easily, all of my other partners have always been a bit more submissive.
Sure, not as submissive as Atlas is, but that only furthers my point.
Sucking him down and bringing him to ecstasy is my job; there is no viable reason as to why Atlas would need to do it.
All he needs to do is be as beautiful as he already is and listen.
Unless he wants to play the part of the brat, and then putting him in his place would be just as fun as praising him for being good.
“I want it,” he says simply, his hands pulling gently at the waistband of my sweats. “I want to feel the weight of it. I want to…” he takes a deep breath, as if he’s embarrassed and in disbelief at what he’s going to say next. “I want to choke on it.”
“Damnit, Atlas,” I mutter.
Before he can respond, I place my hands on his shoulders and shove gently, pushing him to the ground.
Atlas lands on his knees daintily, as if he’s done this a million times, though I know he hasn’t. Big eyes stare up at me from under thick lashes, his hands clenching and unclenching against his slack-covered thighs.
“Take me out,” I demand, running a hand through his little brown curls.
Atlas doesn’t hesitate, eyes hungry as if he’s imagined doing this so many times. He yanks my sweats and briefs down at once, leaving them around my lower thighs.
My hard dick springs free, only to hang heavily between us. I’m already pulsing with need, red and angry with want. Each little puff of air that leaves his full, parted lips stimulates me further.
I give myself a loose tug, watching Atlas’s eyes follow the movement.
“You sure you want this?” I ask him, my fingertips grazing his cheekbone.
He nods. “Yes.”
“Ask nicely.”
Atlas lifts his gaze from where it was gawking at my dick, and he meets my eyes, licking his bottom lip. Fucking tease.
“Can I please suck it?” he asks quietly, his hands gripping his thighs so tensely that I can see the indentations in the fabric of his slacks.
“Perfect,” I murmur. “Go ahead.”
Gripping the base of my shaft, I rub my tip over his plump bottom lip. He takes it and runs with it, sucking the engorged head into his mouth like a needy pet.
The moment he closes around me and sucks, I see white. It’s so hot, so right that all I can think is: hot, tight, perfect on repeat.
As Atlas’s tongue runs over the bottom of me, his teeth catch my crown. I hiss, bucking into him softly, feeding him another half inch.
“Watch your teeth, baby,” I instruct, my fingers tracing his throat.
Atlas attempts to nod, but doesn’t get much movement with the tip of my dick in his mouth.
He begins to suckle me again, almost as if drinking from my head, and that’s somehow worse than if he were to swallow me down.
The sight alone is dangerous, his hooded eyes and puckered lips.
But then you mix in the sound of him: the desperate little whines and wet slurping, and I’m about two seconds from fucking into him with reckless abandon.
“Take more of me, Atlas,” I tell him, petting his hair once again as he takes in another inch.
We continue this slow battle for a while—him slowly taking more and more of my hard dick while I remind him to watch his teeth, to hollow his cheeks, to look at me.
Then, he’s taken as much as he can without choking, and he begins to massage the rest of me with his hand. Where he learned that trick, I don’t know.
It feels so good and looks even better. With his lips stretched like this, spit beginning to bubble around where I’m disappearing into his mouth with every bob of his head, I’m going insane.
I want to fuck him. I want to snatch him from the floor, rip his little slacks off, and slam inside of him until I’m emptying every last drop of my come into his ass, claiming him once more.
But Atlas didn’t ask for that. He wants to taste me.
“Do you like it, little bunny?” I stare down at him, panting heavier with each passing moment. Atlas stares back, eyes watering, but his tears are not yet falling to wet his cheeks. “Is this how you wanted it? Or did you want something more?”
Atlas slows, his tongue massaging the underside of my head in a torturous tease. Then, he hums in question, as if to ask, “What do you mean?” without ever removing my cock from between his lips.
“Do you want to keep exploring on your own, or do you want me to fuck your face how I fuck your tight little ass?” I ask him, and to my surprise, Atlas unhinges his jaw and lets loose the loudest, filthiest moan I’ve heard from a man while my cock is stuffed in his mouth.
Then he’s trying to nod, trying his hardest and failing, as I grip the sides of his face.
“Pinch me if you’re done, do you understand?” I wait for his response, but he refuses to let me go, so instead of verbally acknowledging my words, he just hums once more.
It sends jolts of pleasure up my shaft, settling in the base of my spine. I know that once I start face fucking him, I won’t last long, but he’s new to this, and I don’t want him hurting when we’re done anyway.