Chapter 6 Cider Sparks #4
“Look at this,” I growled, voice pure filth. “You’re soaking through—like a fucking teenager.” My hand squeezed the length through the cotton, thumb teasing the swollen head, smearing the wetness everywhere. “God, you’re thick. Gonna ruin my hand, old man.”
His cock flexed for me, leaking more, begging for release. I pinched my own nipples again, rolling them hard enough to make my hips jerk, then reached down, tracing the outline of his cock from root to tip, pressing harder every time he whimpered.
Bending over him, I let my mouth hover near his ear. “Want these off? Want to show me how much you want it?”
A frantic nod, eyes wide and pleading, the muscles in his arms and chest straining as he tried to thrust up.
My hands caught the waistband, and with one savage yank, I tore the briefs open, fabric ripping, exposing him completely.
His cock slapped up, fat and flushed, a string of precome dangling from the tip to his belly.
“Fucking perfect,” I rasped, letting my palm hover, just teasing, admiring how desperate he’d become for a touch. “You ever been this needy, Richard? Ever wanted someone this bad?”
His voice cracked, deep and hoarse. “Never. Please, Derek, please—”
No mercy. I dragged my thumb through the mess at his tip, gathering precome, then traced it across his lips, painting him with his own need. “Open. Taste yourself. Be a good boy for me.”
His mouth parted, tongue flicking out, sucking my thumb down, eyes rolling back as he moaned around my finger. I fed him another, fingers slick with his arousal, letting him suck, letting him choke on his own need, letting him show me just how much he loved being owned.
My other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slow, squeezing from base to tip, twisting just beneath the swollen head, watching his body arch, shudder, hips fucking helplessly into my fist. My palm was greedy, working him with practiced precision, pressing at the ridge, letting my fingers circle down to the thick base, rolling his heavy balls in my palm.
Fingers slid lower, teasing at his hole, tracing the puckered rim, slick with sweat and want.
I let my thumb press gently, circling, teasing, not pushing in yet, just letting him know what was coming.
He whimpered, mouth still full of my fingers, tongue working them desperately, drool slicking his beard.
“Want my fingers in your mouth?” I taunted, voice thick.
His answer was a frantic moan, hips rocking up, pushing his hole against my touch, cock throbbing in my fist.
“Good boy,” I whispered, letting a finger slide inside, shallow at first, just enough to make him gasp.
My other hand gripped his cock, jerking him slow, thumb circling the slit, smearing the slick over the head.
“You’re drooling, Richard. Is this what you needed?
To be spread out, used, put on display?”
A low, desperate grunt vibrated through his chest. “Yes. Fuck, yes. More—please, need more, Derek—”
My finger pressed deeper, curling, searching for that spot that would make him lose his mind. My free hand never stopped stroking, twisting, slapping his cock against his belly just to make him moan, to make him desperate.
Every muscle in his body trembled, sweat slicking his skin, hole clenching around my finger, cock leaking rivers down my hand. I fed him another finger, made him suck, made him taste every drop, made him whimper and plead, every filthy sound like a benediction.
I withdrew my fingers from Richard’s mouth, dragging them along his jaw, wet with spit and precum. My hand squeezed the base of his cock, giving it one last rough stroke, letting the swollen head smack his belly. A wicked urge surged up from my gut—tonight, I wanted to own him, body and soul.
Weight shifted, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his torso, thick thighs straddling that perfect chest. The heat of him radiated up, all muscle and strength, bound and helpless beneath me.
My cock, slick and angry red, hovered right above his beard, so close he could taste the salt and sweat.
I grabbed his chin, forcing his head back, making sure his eyes never left mine.
“Open up, old man. Mouth wide. Show me how much you want it.”
Tongue flicked out in anticipation, lips parted, spit already glistening on his bottom lip.
I gathered a thick strand of saliva in my mouth and let it fall—hot, deliberate—right onto his tongue, watching it pool and run down the side of his mouth.
The sight made my cock kick, the need to mark him with every filthy urge almost too much.
Another glob of spit landed in his mouth, then a third, until he was gasping, drool and spit dripping down his cheeks, beard matted and shining.
My palm came down hard on his cheek, a sharp smack echoing in the room, leaving a flush in its wake.
The shock lit a spark in his eyes—need, surrender, a hunger for more.
“Take it, Richard. All of it. Swallow, be good for me.”
Another slap, not cruel but claiming, then I leaned in, grabbing his face, kissing him hard.
Teeth clashed, tongues tangling, spit messy and wet, the taste of him and me blurring together.
I bit his bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth, then shoved him back down, the crown of my cock dragging along his jaw, smearing precome into his beard.
“Beg for it,” I growled, voice rough with need. “Tell me you want my cock down your throat. Tell me you want to be ruined from the inside out.”
Desperation colored every word as he moaned, voice thick and ruined. “Please, Derek—want to choke on it. Want to taste you. Fuck my mouth. Use me. Please—”
My cock pressed to his lips, the tip smearing across the slit of his mouth, and he opened wide, tongue out, ready to worship.
The power, the surrender in that moment, made my whole body shudder.
I gripped the headboard for leverage, hips rocking forward, the fat head pushing past his lips, stretching his mouth wide.
Heat flooded through me as I fed him inch after inch, watching his jaw strain, spit leaking out at the corners. My palm found his jaw, guiding, controlling the angle, making him take it all. His throat flexed around me, muscles working, desperate for air, desperate for more.
“Yeah, that’s it. Good boy. Take it deep, all the way,” I rasped, voice gone feral.
Hips pumped slow at first, letting him adjust, letting him savor the weight and heat.
Every thrust pushed me deeper, the head hitting the back of his throat, making him gag, eyes watering, spit and precum spilling down his chin.
My free hand gripped his bicep, squeezing the solid muscle, worshipping the power bound beneath me.
Fingers trailed over the corded strength of his arms, the rough scars, the thick veins.
I pressed kisses to his forearm, biting at the muscle, dragging my tongue along the groove, claiming every inch even as I fucked his mouth.
The sigh burned into me. I worshipped him with teeth and tongue, biting a mark onto his bicep, then lacing my fingers through his, forcing his hand to grip the headboard, pinning him even tighter.
My cock slid deeper, hips rolling harder, using his mouth like it was mine. Every thrust forced another gasp, another swallow, spit bubbling up, running down his beard. “That’s it. Take it. Let me see you drool. Let me see you ruined, choking on me. You love this, don’t you?”
A muffled, needy sound came from his throat, his cock leaking a fresh spurt onto his belly with every thrust. I let my hand drift down, palming the heavy sac between his legs, rolling his balls, teasing his hole with slick fingers, all while keeping my cock buried in his mouth.
Leaning back for a second, I watched his chest heave, arms straining, face wet and red and shining with spit and tears. The sight—utterly fucked, utterly helpless, desperate to please—sent a shudder of pleasure up my spine.
“Fucking perfect, Richard. Never seen anyone take it like you. Gonna make you come just from being used, aren’t I?”
My thumb dragged over his jaw, smearing spit, then slid between his lips, letting him suck while my cock pulsed on his tongue.
I rocked faster, harder, pushing deep until I felt the tight seal of his lips at the base, throat fluttering around the head, making me groan.
The urge to lose control, to flood his mouth, almost overtook me.
But I pulled back, letting him gasp for air, spit and precome smeared everywhere. I slapped my cock against his tongue, then across his cheek, watching his eyes glaze over in bliss.
Arms stretched, biceps bulging, wrists twisting in the cuffs—my lips found the crook of his elbow, worshipping every muscle, every vein, every sign of strength and surrender.
Restraints clattered as I popped the cuffs, releasing Richard’s wrists, then untied his ankles, tossing the rope aside.
The urge to keep him bound fought with the hungrier need to touch him everywhere, nothing in the way but skin and sweat and muscle.
I slipped a hand around his waist, hooked my thumb under the waistband of his underwear, and hauled it down in one smooth, greedy motion—fabric catching on the swell of his hips before slipping free and pooling at his ankles—leaving him bare and incandescent.
My hand fisted in his hair, rough and possessive, guiding him onto all fours—no hesitation, no chance for him to catch his breath.
I wanted him open, presented, every inch mine to claim.