8. Silas #3
Jack’s back arches hard against me, his breath hitching as the relentless vibration hits his nerve endings all at once, doubling the friction of my thick cock filling him to the hilt.
“Please,” he gasps, the word tearing out of him in a ragged, broken plea. “Silas, please… don’t stop… I’m right there…”
I hold my breath, clamping down hard on my own escalating orgasm, and give a slow, deliberate twist of my hips, grinding against his prostate just as I ramp the vibrator up another notch.
His entire body seizes around me, muscles clamping down in a frantic, white-hot grip that threatens to strip the last shred of my control away.
“Look at you, taking it so fucking well,” I growl against his shoulder, my hand tightening on the chain of the cuffs to keep him pinned right where I want him. “Come for me, dove. Show me how good my boy can break.”
I can feel the intense, rapid pulse of the toy vibrating straight through my own shaft, knowing he’s feeling every heavy, vibrating ripple echoing deep inside him.
The room dissolves into a blur of raw friction, heavy breathing, and Jack’s shattered, beautiful cries. With every brutal, driving thrust, I feel him unraveling completely beneath me, his walls clenching around my shaft in a frenzied, desperate pulse that strips away my last defenses.
My vision narrows, the pleasure surging through my veins like liquid fire.
“Mine,” I roar, slamming into him one last, deep time as the dam finally breaks inside me.
Hot, heavy waves of release tear through my body, my vision blackening at the edges as I bury myself as deep as I can go, emptying every last drop of myself into him while Jack shatters right alongside me, screaming my name into the sheets as his entire world collapses.
His voice cuts off entirely into a choked, desperate gasp as the world tilts and fractures beneath us.
His body bows up hard against my chest, every muscle in his frame locking solid as his orgasm rips through him, hot and violent, soaking our skin.
The frantic pulse of his internal walls milking my cock pushes me right over the edge, and I roar his name into the dark, emptying myself completely inside him as the final waves of release shatter whatever control we have left.
Slowly, the frantic rhythm of the room fades into the sound of ragged breathing and the steady beat of our hearts.
I ease my grip on his throat, letting my hand slide softly up to cup the back of his neck, my thumb tracing the damp skin there as I press a lingering kiss to his hair, pulling the blindfold off.
“Good boy,” I murmur, the words thick and quiet in the heavy, cooling air as I hold him flush against me, letting us both come down from the edge.
“You’ve done so well… My perfect boy… So good…
Such a good boy…” I tell him over and over “Took me so well, so perfect.” I gently unlock the cuffs, slipping them off his wrists so he can move without restriction, though he barely stirs, too boneless and exhausted to care.
I carefully slide out from under him, murmuring soft, soothing words as I grab a soft, warm washcloth from the bathroom and a bottle of water.
Coming back to bed, I help him sit up to drink the water, and I can feel the shifft in him, the heavy, emotional fog rolling in, as the adrenaline leaves his system and the sub drop hits hard.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I whisper, wrapping a thick, warm blanket securely around his shoulders and pulling him back against my chest. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”
I wipe the damp cloth gently over his skin, speaking in low, quiet tones as I wash him, my hands slow and grounding. My eyes drop downward, taking in the sight of him—swollen and red, my cum still leaking slowly from his stretched, aching hole.
I don’t hesitate. I lean in close, pressing my face right against him.
My tongue drags a slow, soothing path over his hole, tasting the salt and myself as I carefully clean him.
When I finish, I purse my lips and blow a soft, steady stream of warm air against his sensitive skin, cooling the friction and easing the ache.
I hear him let out a long, shuddering sigh against the mattress.
“Such a good little boy, letting me clean your pussy,” I whisper against him, the pet name dripping with possessive affection.
I lean back, running the damp cloth over his skin one last time to clear away any remaining sweat before tossing it into the hamper.
I look at Jack, his cheeks flushed and he’s panting. Smiling I move up and pull him close.
“Sleep, dove.” I say, dropping a kiss to his forehead. I hold him close, rocking him gently in the quiet room, letting the steady warmth of my body and the slow, rhythmic hum of my voice anchor him while the world settles back down.
I hear his breathing slow, and feel the minute he sleeps.
Jack says he can’t handle touch, and I know he believes he doesn’t deserve a kind touch, but I also know that he can tolerate mine. As long as I communicate, he handles my hand against his skin.
Him allowing me to do that makes my heart sing. The fact that I am the only one he can tolerate touching him, that right there is a win for me.