Chapter 7 #2
I suck him slow and deliberate, my tongue pressing flat against the underside.
He's so hot it feels like holding a brand in my mouth.
Every time I take him deep, wet, obscene sounds fill the room.
The slurp of my mouth, his choked gasps, my own rough breathing.
His thighs tremble against my ears. He's whining, gasping, repeating my name like a plea.
Slick runs down my wrist where my hand braces his leg.
The smell of him is making my jaw ache and my cock throb against my jeans with every heartbeat.
"The sounds you make," I murmur, pulling off just enough to breathe, my lips brushing the head of his cock. A string of spit connects us. "Fuck, Milo."
"I can't—Callum, I can't—" He pulls at my hair, pushing and pulling at the same time, overwhelmed past the point of coherence.
He buries his face in his arm, trying to muffle himself.
It doesn't work. His thighs clamp around my head, his toes curling, his belly going taut. "I'm gonna come—Cal, I'm gonna—"
I pull off. He whines at the loss, his hips chasing my mouth. His cock is flushed dark, twitching against his stomach. I press a kiss to his hip to settle him, then push his thighs up and back. He lets me. He's boneless and shaking.
When I have him open—slick and glistening, his hole pink and fluttering with every ragged breath, the scent so concentrated it makes my eyes water—my brain goes simple and feral. I don't fight it.
I spread him wide with my thumbs. The clench and release of his rim, the slick dripping in a slow, heavy trail onto my sheets. I press my mouth right against him.
His entire body bows off the mattress. His slick tastes sweet and musky, layered under salt and clean skin.
I lick into him with zero finesse, just pure hunger.
My tongue pushes past the ring of muscle, feeling him open up, hot and silky inside.
He writhes, choking on air. I fuck my tongue deeper, lapping up the slick that pulses out of him.
His thighs shake so hard I have to lock my hands around them to hold him still.
I seal my mouth over his hole and suck, slurping the slick off him loud and shameless.
His hand slams against the mattress. He lets out a muffled scream into his forearm.
"Cal—Callum—I'm going to—"
I pull back. He actually sobs, his hips rolling, chasing my mouth. The sheer frustration on his face is the hottest thing I've ever seen. I press my forehead to his thigh and take a breath, because my own cock is throbbing so hard I can barely see straight.
"I want to be inside you when you come," I tell him.
His whole body shudders. "Then get inside me," he says. His voice is rough. Demanding. Not asking, not deferring. Telling me. "Now, Callum."
I reach for the lube in the nightstand. Top drawer.
My hands are shaking. I slick my fingers, mixing it with the mess he's already made, and press one into him.
He's so wet and open from my mouth that it slides in easy, swallowed to the second knuckle by the hot, tight clench of his body.
He gasps, pushing his hips down. I give him two fingers, working him slow and careful.
I'm big, and he's not, and I'm not going to hurt him no matter how desperate we both are.
Slick runs down my wrist, dripping onto the sheets.
The thick, wet sound of my fingers pumping into him echoes in the room.
"More," he urges, pushing down on my hand like he wants to take my whole wrist. "Callum, please. I need more."
I give him three. He groans, low and deep.
His cock jumps against his belly, a fresh bead of precome spilling over the tip.
His hand locks onto my wrist like a vise.
I curl my fingers, finding the exact spot that makes him arch and jerk and say my name.
I have to close my eyes. The sight of him—flushed, spread open, riding my fingers and begging—is going to end me.
I pull my hand free and finally shove my jeans and boxers down.
The relief of freeing my cock makes me groan out loud.
Milo's eyes drop. His lips part. His scent spikes, a fresh wave of slick shining on his thighs.
The look of pure awe on his face when he sees how hard I am for him is burned into my brain forever.
"Inside," he breathes, his legs falling wider. "I want you inside me."
I line up behind him, gripping his hips, and push in slow.
The feeling knocks the air straight out of my lungs.
He's tight and hot, but so fucking wet that the glide is frictionless.
His body opens around me inch by inch, the stretch of his rim gripping the thick head of my cock before yielding.
The rightness of it is absolute. It's not just pleasure; it's the bond slotting into place.
I bury myself to the base and hold dead still. If I move, I'll come immediately.
Milo's breath punches out of him in a shattered gasp. His hand scrabbles at my forearm, nails digging in.
"Oh god," he whispers. "I'm so full. Callum, you're so—" He cuts off with a whimper as I throb inside him. His walls clench and flutter, memorizing my shape.
He pushes back against me, impatient. This omega who spent his whole life making himself small is rocking his hips back onto my cock, demanding more. My brain goes completely white.
I start to move. Hard, deep thrusts. I keep my hands on his hips, pulling him back to meet every stroke.
He's face down, his cheek mashed into my pillow, and the sounds coming out of him are a constant stream of moans, broken attempts at my name, please, yes, more.
I watch where my cock disappears into his ass, the slick making everything shine.
I'm talking to him—telling him how tight he is, how good he feels, how long I've wanted this—and my voice doesn't even sound like mine.
It sounds like a starving man who finally got a meal.
I need to see his face.
I pull out. He lets out a sharp, frustrated protest that goes straight to my groin.
I grab his hips and roll him over onto his back.
He goes willingly, legs spreading, arms reaching up for me.
When I push back in face-to-face, he wraps his legs around my waist. His hands cup my jaw, his eyes locking onto mine, and the entire dynamic shifts.
It's not less intense. It's more. But it's slower. Deeper. I roll my hips into every thrust. His face now—the heavy flush on his cheeks, his bitten lips, the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. One spills over, tracking down his temple. I catch it with my thumb, my chest cracking wide open.
"Does it feel that good?" I murmur, grinding deep. "I've got you. I've got you, sweetheart."
He nods, his breath hitching as another tear slips free. His hands trace my jaw, my neck, my shoulders. He rocks his hips up to meet mine, whining every time I bottom out inside him.
"You know how many times I went to bed thinking about this?" I tell him. My voice is wrecked, and I don't give a shit. "You, in my bed, looking at me like this. I'd go home from Ava's and lie in the dark and think about you until I couldn't breathe."
"Callum." His voice breaks. Another tear slides into his hair. I lean down and kiss the damp trail it left on his skin.
"Not because of the bond," I say against his temple.
"Before that. Before any of this. Just you.
" I pull back just enough to look him in the eye.
"The bond didn't make me want you, Milo.
I wanted you long before I knew what you smelled like.
Tonight is just the universe catching up to what I already chose. "
His body tightens around my cock. His breath stutters. I watch the realization hit him—that it isn't just biology. I chose him. I've been choosing him while pretending I wasn't.
"Harder," he begs, pulling me closer, his heels digging into my lower back. "Please, Callum—harder."
My knot starts to swell. The heavy pressure builds at the base of my cock, thickening with every thrust. The primal urge to lock inside him and seal the bond is deafening. I try to slow down, to be careful, because I'm big and he's—
Milo digs his heels in harder. "Don't stop," he says. His voice is rough, certain. He's not letting me be careful. "Give me all of it. I want your knot. Give it to me."
I drive in deep. The knot catches at his rim.
The thick swell stretches him wide, his body resisting for one breathless second before it yields and swallows me whole.
The lock clicks into place. We both make sounds that don't belong in polite company.
The stretch, the pressure—his rim clamped tight around the base of the knot.
There's no going anywhere. His body pulses and flutters, adjusting to the intrusion, his heartbeat thudding around me.
His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open, his hand fisted in my hair.
He looks caught somewhere between agony and pure bliss.
"Oh fuck—oh fuck, it's so—" His voice cracks into a high, involuntary whine.
His whole body shudders, his thighs clamping like a vise around my hips.
His muscles lock and release, accommodating the swell.
Then, something in him completely lets go.
He melts into the mattress with a broken moan, his cock jerking between our stomachs.
"I can feel you everywhere. God, Callum. "
Then, he turns his head.
It's a slow, instinctive movement. He bares the long line of his throat, tilting his chin away. The birthmark and the hickey from earlier are fully exposed. He's offering his neck. His body knows exactly what it's doing.