12. Chapter 12 #3
I don’t question his demand, because I can’t.
My brain is slowly going offline with no indication of returning anytime soon.
He has all the power in this moment. I let him lead me.
Lead us. It could be straight to heaven, or into the depths of hell.
He could stroll up to the throne and offer me to Lucifer himself.
It wouldn’t make a difference to me. I’d follow him blindly. Recklessly.
I open my lips, allowing him to slide his fingers between them. My tongue immediately explores the intrusion, pressing against his fingers greedily.
“That’s it... suck for me.“ He praises in his rumbly voice.
I’m throbbing as I imagine that the fingers sliding back in forth in my mouth are his dick.
They’re not nearly as long or thick, but I pretend well enough to drive myself insane.
I can’t help the way my body hopelessly tries to grind against his, because the need for friction is almost unbearable at this point.
His motions slow as he pulls his fingers from my mouth.
Drool coats them, but he sticks them into his mouth and sucks them clean anyway.
His eyelashes quiver as he savors what little taste of me was left behind.
I told him that I didn’t kiss, because… well, I don’t.
Normally. It just always seemed like something that couples did because they wanted to feel closer to one another, and I never wanted to be closer to be anyone.
I’m starting to understand what Roman was telling me before though, that kissing can be whatever you want it to be.
Right now, it feels a lot like not kissing is just denying myself of a connection I could have, one that I desperately crave.
That’s a problem though, isn’t it? Because creating another bond with Roman can’t possibly be good for my health.
If I’m going to self-destruct, I think that throwing alcohol on the flame is just a bit overkill at this point.
That doesn’t mean that he feels the same way about it, or that he has to enjoy my decision.
Hell, I’m not even enjoying it right now.
Roman makes his own fucking rules. What he’s doing, it’s his way around the problem.
If I refuse to kiss him, then he’s making his own way to get the connection he wants, and if he’s fine with the outcome of it, then that’s on him.
Am I jealous that he gets the satisfaction he desires while I barely manage to cling onto my decision to prioritize self-preservation? Abso-fucking-lutely.
He leans forward, propping himself up with one arm while he continues to glide his lubed hand up and down his shaft at a relaxed pace.
My eyes bounce back and forth between his hand and his face as he continues to pleasure himself.
I can’t decide what I want to look at more, but all of it has me aching with need.
“Touch me… Please, Roman.”
His eyes snap to mine, a smirk growing on his face as he readjusts his hips until they’re lined up with mine. “Mmm, look at you. Laid out in my bed, needy as fuck. I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to last with you begging like that.”
“Roman… please.“ I whine as I force myself closer to him, my dick brushing against his knuckles.
As soon as his hand wraps around me, sweet, sweet relief floods my system. It lasts all of five seconds before I realize that his hand is not just wrapped around me, it’s wrapped around both of us. Together.
Keeping my eyes closed has been long forgotten, as has learning a single damn thing.
Instead of, you know, stroking our dicks, he holds himself above me and starts thrusting into his hand.
His shirts hangs loose, impeding my view, so I fist the material before clinging to his hip like it’s my fucking lifeline.
It just might be because this is the literal hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
It looks like he’s fucking me.
It feels like he’s fucking me.
“I’m gonna come, Roman.” I whine as I try to push against his chest, but he refuses to let off.
“I’m right there with you, pretty boy. Show me.”
His husky voice is barely above a whisper, but it doesn’t matter because I don’t have time to think about anything that’s coming out of his mouth.
My back arches off the bed as cum splatters across my chest. Roman hums happily as the last bit drips down his knuckles and pools at the base of my cock.
“Ah, ah.” I whimper as the tip grows more and more sensitive with every move he makes. He releases me and continues to stroke himself while he’s suspended above me. I watch in awe as his hand twists around the head every time he glides over it. It’s so Goddamn hot.
“Open,” he demands again, and without question, I comply.
His movements stop as he cups his hand at the tip of his dick, catching everything he can manage to fit in his hand. I’m speechless as stream after stream pumps out until it literally drips over the edges of his palm. Jesus. That’s so much cum. Is that normal?
He spreads his fingers out, smirking mischievously as strings drip onto my stomach.
I wait patiently as he lets the majority of it fall between his fingers.
Then he reaches out and shoves the same two fingers that were in my mouth earlier right back inside, so deep that I nearly gag.
It happens so fast, that I barely have time to register what’s happening before the taste of him coats my tongue.
“That’s better,” he says proudly. “Let me tell you a secret, Lance. I may be a nice boyfriend when you want me to be, but if you ever have the taste of another man’s cum in your mouth again, you’ll find out exactly what it looks like when I’m angry.
There won’t be a happy ending for you. There will be no kindness, no sweet words whispered in your ear, no prep.
I will drag you back here and fuck you until you can’t remember your own goddamn name. Do you understand?”
My eyes go wide with shock as I do my best to nod, but his fingers don’t allow me to move very much.
The desire inside of me surges to life again, my spine tingling in a desperate attempt to rally my dick back to life.
It’s unsuccessful, obviously. It’s still limply resting against my body, but I really fucking wish it’d perk back up.
I have this dangerously frantic need for more of Roman.
“Good,” he says as he pulls his fingers from my mouth and scoots back on the bed. “Now, stay here. I’ll get us some towels to clean up.”
My body sinks into the mattress as he disappears into the bathroom.
I can hear him washing his hands and rummaging around underneath the cabinet.
He isn’t gone long, but I nearly fall asleep waiting on him to return.
When I hear him step back into the room, I lift my head to see him standing there staring down at me.
The way his eyes dilate as he devours every inch of my flesh before finally meeting my gaze takes away any self-conscious thoughts I might’ve conjured up as soon as the orgasm high wore off.
He tosses the towels onto the bed beside me and then leans down to pick me up.
“What are you doing, Roman?“ I chastise as I wrap my arms around his neck.
“I changed my mind.” He says smoothly. “You’re filthy. So, I’m going to wash you off.”
I roll my eyes as I try to wiggle free from his grip. “I can clean myself.”
“Mmm. Didn’t your parents ever teach you to clean up a mess when you’re the one that made it?” He purrs as he leans in and turn the water on.
Smartass.
He puts me down long enough to slide his jeans off but leaves his boxers and shirt on.
He leads me inside the shower with what appears to be the intention of staying relatively dry while he washes me off, but he should’ve known that wasn’t going to work.
I crave the closeness of his body, and cling to him with more desperation than I’ve ever felt in my life.
I had a plan. I was never going to fall in love.
Ever. It was supposed to be simple. As easy as the sun rising over the horizon in the morning sky.
I’ve never even had a connection with another person that warranted a single ounce of worry over that becoming a possibility.
Avoiding it came naturally for me; it took zero effort.
When Roman pulls me close to his body, water slinking over the two of us as if we were born into existence specifically to be here with one another, it sinks in just how naive I was.
I close my eyes and lean my weight into his chest as he runs his soapy hands along every curve of my body with so much adoration that it makes my chest ache.
When his light touches cause me to squirm, his genuine laughter echoes off the tile walls with mine, and it makes me feel a longing so deep in my bones that I start to get a melancholy haze.
I never thought that I would crave that kind of connection with another person, and I hate myself for wanting it now. With him.
When Roman spins me around and his eyes lock onto mine, he immediately notices the shift.
Instead of running, he cradles me against his chest as the water envelops us in warmth, not even thinking twice about carrying some of the weight that’s burdening me.
He just whispers, “I’ve got you, pretty boy. ”
And again… I believe him.