Chapter 4 #3
It hits me like a ton of bricks that he’s been touching me all along, building up to this. I simply couldn’t comprehend that a guy like him could want me. Or anyone for that matter since he lives alone by choice, does he not?
“M-my paintings?” How the fuck am I supposed to focus on that when he’s just licked me?
“Yes, your paintings,” he rasps against my cheek and slides two of his fingers deep into my mouth. They’re long, and graceful, and I suck on them without prompting despite the heat blooming on my face. He’s surely mocking me now, and yet... the thing I’m afraid of the most is that he’ll pull away.
“The sketches are good, rich, if a bit messy. I want to see more. I want to see what else hides in that pretty head of yours,” he taunts me, starting to move his digits over my tongue .
I can only hope his cock replaces them soon.
I don’t have experience, I’m far too shy to ever make the first move, but it doesn’t stop me from being horny.
I watch him with heat blooming in my face, because while I’m embarrassed about how responsive my body is to him, he’s the one who started all of this.
The one man I’ve been obsessing over for years. Of course I find him attractive.
I nervously respond to his fingers with my tongue, and he shoves them in deeper, his breath a warm rasp in my ear. “That’s right, suck my fingers. They create beautiful things and deserve all of your attention.”
I nearly choke, but when his knuckles bump against my teeth over and over, my brain switches off. I’m just a body in the throes of lust, and Sevastyan is toying with me.
“Maybe if you taste me, you will absorb some of those traits you worship about me?”
I feel him shift out of the chair, but it’s only when he kicks my thighs wider apart that I realize he’s right in front of me.
His cock is hard.
And big.
And it deserves all the dedication I can give.
“Go on boy, you know I deserve the best,” Sevastyan says, finally slipping his fingers from my mouth.
Is this really happening? I’m flushed, hard, my cheeks are still wet from tears, yet I open my mouth, glancing up at him. I don’t have much experience. What if I don’t do a good job? Do I even want to? Of course I want to, he’s gorgeous. But he’s also Sevastyan, and he’s strapped me to the chair.
My mind is so confused even if my body isn’t. Drool pools in my mouth so I don’t waste time and lean forward to capture his cockhead with my mouth. I’m so starved for sex bliss erupts in my skull, and my cock throbs between my legs .
He tastes perfect. He smells perfect. He’s fucking perfect.
And if I’m just a maggot at his feet then so be it.
Right now, all I can think of is making him come.
“What are you waiting for? Suck it,” he hisses, fingers twisting in my hair.
It makes my scalp ache in the best of ways.
Something about the violent nature of the gesture shoots straight to my cock, and I push forward, hollowing my cheeks around his thick shaft. What does he think when he looks at me?
Does it arouse him that I’d beg for a taste of his dick?
Does he even know I would?
I try taking more of his cock in my mouth as I stare up his abs and all the way to the defined pecs.
God, those are like perfect pillows. Is it wrong that being strapped down turns me on?
I know it’s there for non-sexual reasons, but as he stuffs my mouth so full of cock I choke, the bindings force me to stay put and take it.
Which is so exciting I sense pre-cum dripping down my dick.
This is bad. I’m so in over my head.
But I’m unable to focus on that when he keeps my head in place by the hair.
It hits me that I could bite him. He believes I wouldn’t. He’s right, but he did take the gamble.
He’s salty, fresh, so delicious, and I love how big he feels in my mouth even though every push forces tears to my eyes.
He might be overestimating my experience, but the cock isn’t all the way in yet, poking at my gag reflex over and over as I choke, slobber, and cry, yet never once utter a word of protest.
I suck and lick when he pulls away, then greedily take his dick when he enters me, in a trance evoked by a man so gorgeous and talented his existence should be statistically improbable. And yet here he is, lowering himself to use a pathetic creature like me as his fucksleeve .
His breathing picks up, and I whine when he pulls his cock away, then orders me to stick my tongue out.
He slaps it with his cockhead, eyes intense in his flushed face, which for once looks human rather than made of flawless marble.
“Don’t swallow yet,” he demands and places the tip of his cock between my lips, jerking off as if I’m just a convenient hole.
I make a pathetic whine, rocking my hips in the chair, because I’m that aroused, but I follow the order. I keep my mouth open, tongue stretched out for him even as drool pools under it and will surely spill out soon.
Our eyes meet even though my vision is blurry.
I don’t know what devil pushed me with his pitchfork yesterday to go through with my plan, but I’ve landed in the sweetest hell.
His beautiful face contorts, lips twisting as warm cum shoots against my palate and pools in my mouth.
I do want to swallow, but he called me a good boy, and I can’t bear being a disappointment.
I can’t help it when some of the spunk drizzles down my chin, but as soon as Sevastyan finishes and lets go of me, I arch my neck to keep everything else inside.
The thud of my pulse is so loud I barely register the heavy breathing above, but instead walking off, leaving me to my unsatisfied misery, this gorgeous bastard leans in over me, watching.
His skin is pink now, shiny with sweat, and even his eyes have got slightly darker, gaining a sapphire undertone when he gathers saliva in his mouth, then grabs my jaw and releases it into the pool of cum.
I should cringe. Pull away. Be offended.
Instead, I’m trembling with the need to swallow, yet sit there in my arousal, waiting for his command like a puppy happy with its first training session and eager for a treat .
No one who knows me would ever imagine I’d do such a thing, or be turned on by it. When I’m not plotting Sevastyan’s demise, I’m shy, polite, and keep to myself.
Do I even still hate him? I don't know.
Sevastyan’s still panting, and I could eat him alive. In his paintings, he’s beautiful in that cold, untouchable way, but now, with this flush, cock still plump? I could probably fall for him and let bygones be bygones.
He chuckles and grabs his phone. “Oh my. You are a hidden gem. No polish needed.”
Before I realize what he’s doing, he snaps a few photos of my face, drool, cum, and all.
I’m so shocked I back into the chair, unsure what to think. Is this… blackmail material for when he lets me out? His murderous secrets for my humiliation?
And yet, I only swallow when he presses on my jaw from below, closing my mouth for me.
You have a piece of Sevastyan inside you , a giddy voice whispers as I try to catch my breath. Not sure what to say, I helplessly rub my bound hands against his thigh.
Should I…? Myself? Does he want…?
I don’t have the experience to navigate this, and the kiss he then presses to my cheek is so gentle it leaves me voiceless.
“Ohhhh, that was so inspiring,” he says and moves his chair so it’s facing mine as he sits, spent and, judging by the speed with which he reaches for his own oatmeal, also hungry. “You really are a good boy, Victor.”
He… likes me?
“S-so you’re not mad about the break-in?” I ask, shifting in the chair and still unsure what to do with my raging erection. Just because it’s much shorted than his doesn’t mean my need is any less urgent.
He looks at me with his mouth full and speaks only once he swallows. “Mad? No, I deal with much worse cases of breaking and entering at least once a month,” he says, and my skin lights up when he rests one foot on the edge of my seat, inches away from my painfully hard dick.