Chapter Eighteen Orgasm Addict
Julian was livid as Michael shut the flat door behind them.
He tossed his parka over the back of an armchair with no regard for the perfectly good coatrack by the door.
He gestured wildly with his hands while he spoke, hands that were so starkly pale against the deep plum colour of his shirt they seemed much like agitated, fluttering doves.
“Just where does he get off following me anyway?” he was complaining.
“Like he’s me mum or something. Like I haven’t had enough of that with Aisling.
It’s like everybody thinks I’m some kind of slow child that needs minding after else he’ll run into the street with scissors and get flattened by a double-decker bus. ”
His restless hands scrambled for the cigarettes in his pocket, at a loss for something to occupy them. Michael grabbed his wrists instead.
Julian had a heartbeat’s moment to look confused before Michael’s mouth crashed into his.
Michael had been waiting for this since they’d left the club.
He’d barely been able to restrain himself during the torturous taxi ride back.
If Julian had driven him wild on the dance floor, it was nothing compared to the effect another man’s jealousy had.
When Julian broke off for air, he chuckled. “What happened to ‘taking it slow’?”
“Fuck slow,” Michael growled, taking his mouth back with a clash of teeth on lips.
Julian gasped as his legs hit the back of the sofa and they went toppling, Michael landing over him.
Without missing a beat, he pinned Julian’s wrists over his head and angled himself between his splayed thighs to grind his hips down into him the way he’d been trying to at the club.
Julian wasn’t as hard now as he had been then, but he was getting there, if the soft whimpers and breathy sighs were anything to judge by.
Michael found that soft spot on his throat once again, marked by the pink bruise already blooming there.
The younger man tilted his head back against the sofa cushions, allowing Michael greater access.
He took the hint and latched on, sucking for all he was worth, biting for good measure.
“Mmf-fuck, Michael. That’s quite good,” Julian breathed, hips rolling up into Michael’s. He was driving Michael crazy. He wanted more of him. Needed more of him. All of him. Danger be damned, he was going to have all of him. The way Julian’s best friend would never be able to.
He unbuttoned Julian’s shirt and kissed every inch of white flesh as it was exposed.
He got as far as his sternum before giving up in frustration.
Too many buttons. He focused instead on the one button that mattered and got his trousers open.
He pulled free the swollen red head of Julian’s cock, glistening with just a dab of precum.
He really was so terribly beautiful. It was positively mind melting to take that first taste of him, the flat of his tongue against the sensitive slit.
Salty and funky and amazing. Julian’s back arched off the cushions, his head thrown back over the armrest.
He was so vulnerable like this. So oblivious, lost in sensation and entirely trusting. It wouldn’t be hard for Michael to wrap one of his large hands around Julian’s slender throat and --
Michael blinked and only then did he realise his vision had begun to cloud over, blood thundering in his ears.
This was bad. He needed to breathe, to rest, to get himself back under control.
He’d thought he could control it this time.
It’d been so long since he was overtaken by his violent impulses, he’d thought that perhaps he’d managed to sequester them away for good, somewhere they couldn’t do any damage.
But just now he’d been moments away from…
It didn’t bear thinking about. If he didn’t get himself back under control, there was no telling what he might do to Julian, who was putting his fragile life in Michael’s hands.
“Michael?” came the soft voice above him. Michael looked up to find Julian gazing back at him, blue eyes wide with concern.
He could do this. He was stronger than his base urges.
He wouldn’t let the opportunity to ravish this exquisite creature pass him by just because he was afraid of himself.
He was Michael Howard Chapel, Goddamnit.
Award-winning novelist, successful property manager, English Adonis.
He’d spent gruelling years depriving himself, living a semi-monastic lifestyle of unyielding discipline all to wrest some sort of control over the despicable tendencies which had once caused an event so foul that he would never be able to fully atone for it.
He would not let all of that work be for nothing.
He would prove to himself once and for all that he was his own master and finally be free of this fear.
He took Julian entirely in his mouth, down to the hilt, his nose touching soft, brown pubic hair, and let the head of Julian’s cock slip to the back of his throat.
Julian cried out in surprise and ecstasy, hastily stuffing a fist into his mouth to stifle his sounds.
Michael pulled that fist free just as he pulled off Julian’s cock and repeated the manoeuvre.
He wanted to hear him. He wanted to hear every sound, every gasp, every sordid little noise that he was able to force out of him.
Julian made incoherent, choked noises, one hand buried in Michael’s hair and the other scrabbling at the cushions.
Michael rose and dipped, again and again, with practised ease, sucking hard whenever finding himself at the tip.
Julian’s hips made little aborted movements as if longing to buck upwards.
He rested his cheek against one exposed shoulder, his heavy-lidded eyes two dark slits as they looked down at Michael. Michael gazed back unflinchingly.
“Michael,” Julian whimpered, seconds before his breath caught and thick, tangy fluid filled Michael’s mouth.
* * *
Michael knocked back a whiskey from his bar cart, washing down the spunk in his throat.
Replacing the tumbler on the glass cart with a sharp clink, he turned to watch Julian where he lay still on the sofa, decadently dishevelled and half naked with an arm flung over his face.
Julian could’ve probably fallen asleep like that if Michael had let him.
But there was much Michael had left to prove to himself, and sleeping didn’t figure into his plan yet.
He unceremoniously scooped Julian up and threw him over his shoulder, making Julian exclaim in surprise.
He carried him off to the bedroom and tossed him down on the bed.
Julian laughed wildly as he flopped back, clearly enjoying being manhandled.
Michael didn’t bother with his own shirt buttons, opting instead to rip the damned thing open and toss it aside.
Julian stopped laughing then. He crawled forwards on the bed and splayed his hands over Michael’s expansive, well-sculpted chest. His eyes closed, dark lashes against pale cheeks, as he kissed a trail from Michael’s collarbone, down through his fair chest hair, to one pebbled nipple.
Michael hissed through his teeth and grabbed the back of Julian’s silken hair, yanking him backwards.
“Hah,” Julian breathed. A simple, needy sound that spoke volumes as his mouth fell open, pupils dilated in half-lidded eyes. God, the things Michael wanted to do to that open, willing mouth of his. He settled now for kissing it harshly and pushing Julian back on the bed.
He yanked off the boy’s already unfastened trousers along with his pants, leaving him naked from the waist down.
Not one to waste time either, Julian wrestled out of his top while Michael kicked off his own trousers.
He couldn’t help but notice how Julian’s eyes lingered on his stiff member with a sort of bold fascination.
Michael wondered if he might be nervous at the sight of him, large and uncircumcised, suddenly confronted with the reality of sleeping with a man.
But then he watched as Julian’s hand snaked between his own thighs, pensively stroking his already re-stiffening cock, and Michael knew it wasn’t apprehension but lust.
Michael allowed himself a single moment to appreciate the sight of Julian’s naked form, in his own bed, the way he’d hardly allowed himself to dream of.
His long legs stretched out against the dusty-pink duvet.
Julian leaned back on his elbows, clearly enjoying Michael’s appreciation.
His nipples stood out a vibrant pink against the white of his chest. The paleness of him only made his hair appear that much darker, a black curtain that framed an insolent, unflinching gaze.
Michael would wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face if it was the last thing he did.
He dove forwards onto the bed, large body covering Julian’s, and bit Julian’s lip until he opened his mouth.
He plunged his tongue into that eager mouth, claiming him, tasting every last inch of him and making sure he tasted every bit of what Michael had to offer.
Julian’s nails scraped at his back. He revelled in how he unravelled him, how needy he made him.
That is, until Julian’s hand closed around his prick and wrenched a heedless groan from deep in Michael’s throat.
He lost the kiss and his head fell forwards onto Julian’s smooth chest. He was glad for it, because his cheeks were aflame.
He hadn’t expected Julian to take charge in a moment when he’d convinced himself he’d had him so thoroughly undone.
Julian’s hot breath found his ear. “Let me taste you. Please. I’ve always wanted to.”
Part of him wanted to object. He was supposed to be the one overpowering him, leaving him a drooling mess, but the way Julian’s hand worked over his length, entirely confident and unhesitant, left him powerless to do anything but nod mutely.