Chapter 17- Alexei #3
I pulled my cock out of his mouth with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting his swollen lips to the flushed head.
“Take your dick out,” I ordered.
His hands fumbled with his zipper, shaking so badly it took him two tries.
He shoved his pants and underwear down just far enough to free his cock.
It sprang out, flushed dark and leaking at the tip, smaller than mine but hard as steel.
A bead of precum dripped onto the dusty floor between his knees.
God, I loved how submissive he was.
He didn’t try to stroke himself yet. He just knelt there waiting for permission.
“Good boy,” I praised. “Now touch it. Stroke yourself while I fuck your mouth.”
Marco wrapped his hand around his own cock and started stroking. His eyes fluttered half-shut as he did it, but he kept his mouth open for me, tongue out.
I gripped his hair with both hands and thrust back into his mouth, deeper this time. I set a filthy rhythm, fucking his throat in long strokes while he jerked himself off on his knees in front of me.
The wet sounds were obscene. Every time I pushed in, his throat fluttered and he gagged softly, spit dripping down his chin. His hand moved faster on his cock, matching the pace I set with my hips.
I pushed deeper on the next thrust and held there, buried to the hilt in his warm mouth. His nose pressed against my stomach. His throat convulsed around me as he struggled not to gag.
“Breathe through your nose,” I ordered, voice tight. “Take it all.”
When I finally pulled back, Marco gasped wetly. He looked completely wrecked already.
I started fucking his mouth again, harder this time. The pace turned rougher. Every thrust made his head jerk back before I pulled him forward again by his hair. He took it. He took all of it.
“Stroke yourself faster. I want to see you fall apart while I’m buried in your throat.”
Marco obeyed. His thighs were shaking. Every time I thrust in deep he made these little sounds that went straight to my cock.
I was getting close.
I pulled back just enough to let him breathe for a second, then slammed back in, burying myself to the hilt.
“Come for me, Malyshka,.”
Marco’s whole body seized.
His eyes rolled back as he came hard, cock pulsing in his fist. His throat fluttered and squeezed in rhythmic pulses around me as his orgasm ripped through him.
The feeling of him coming while choking on my cock was too much.
I groaned and held his head in place with both hands as I thrust once, twice more, then buried myself as deep as I could go and came.
Cum shot straight down his throat. I didn’t pull back. I kept him there, forcing him to take every drop while his own orgasm was still making his body shake.
“Swallow,” I ordered. “Every fucking drop, Malyshka. Don’t you dare spill any.”
Marco tried. His throat worked around me, swallowing convulsively even as he gagged and more tears spilled down his cheeks. Some of it still leaked from the corners of his mouth, mixing with the spit already coating his chin.
I stayed buried in his mouth through the aftershocks, watching him struggle to obey. Only when the last spurt had left me did I slowly pull out.
Marco gasped the second my cock left his lips, coughing and sucking in ragged breaths.
I kept my hand in his hair, tilting his head back so he had to look up at me.
“Open,” I said quietly.
He obeyed, mouth falling open. I could see the mess I had left inside, some of my cum still coating his tongue.
I dragged my thumb across his lower lip, smearing the mess.
“Swallow what’s left.”
Marco closed his mouth and swallowed visibly, throat bobbing. His eyes never left mine.
When he opened his mouth again to show me it was gone, I felt a satisfied curl of possession in my chest.
“Good boy,” I murmured. I stroked his messy curls gently.
I tucked myself back into my pants with one hand, never taking my eyes off him.
Then I reached down, grabbed him under the arms, and hauled him up to his feet.
He stumbled, legs shaky, and I pushed him back against the wall again.
I crouched, tugging his underwear and pants back up his thighs.
He was still trembling, so I kept one hand on his hip to steady him while I zipped and buttoned him up.
I wiped the worst of the mess from his chin with my thumb, then used the sleeve of my shirt to clean the rest from his lips and jaw.
His curls were a disaster. I ran my fingers through them again, trying to smooth them back into some semblance of order, though the ribbons were long gone and the dark strands stuck to his damp forehead.
When he looked halfway presentable again, flushed and dazed but no longer obviously fucked out, I straightened up and cupped his jaw, tilting his face toward mine.
“Well done,” I praised. “You took everything I gave you.”
I leaned in and kissed him, tasting myself on his tongue.
“Fix your face. We’re leaving.”
I stepped back, giving him a moment to compose himself. He wiped at his eyes with shaky fingers and tried to smooth his shirt. When he finally looked steady enough, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.