Chapter 8 #2
Again, Rowan laughed. He placed Milo’s hands on the sofa, returning with both of his to grip the waistband of Milo’s underwear and drag them down his legs, all the way off, until he dropped them to the floor.
Milo was at full arousal, and from sensory input alone, not direction, not a command. He didn’t need to breathe, and yet he panted in anticipation as Rowan bent over him… and sucked Milo’s member into his mouth.
“Oh.”
Milo’s ocular input must have glitched because something like sparks danced across his vision.
The heat grew in intensity, not only where Rowan’s mouth descended, but deep inside Milo.
In the past, whenever he finished as a human man finished, it was merely a response to Rowan finishing, an echo to appease his master.
For the first time, Milo could feel his body wanting to finish of its own volition, and the more Rowan sucked and stroked with his tongue, bobbing his head to take Milo deeper down his throat, the hotter Milo’s insides felt until he clutched the sofa cushions beneath him.
He choked on a cry much lower than a moan and came between Rowan’s lips without meaning to.
“Oh, Master! I am so sorry!”
Rowan coughed as he swallowed the release. It wasn’t toxic, perfectly safe for him to ingest, but Milo should not have done that without warning him first.
“I am so sorry,” Milo said again with a lowering of his eyes, not daring to look at Rowan now.
“It’s okay,” Rowan said, coaxing Milo’s chin up. He had wiped his mouth, but his lips were shiny, and knowing Milo was the cause of that shimmer, the flush to Rowan’s cheeks, and his dilated pupils, produced a fresh pulse of heat inside Milo, and his cock twitched where it had begun to grow soft.
“You are built for stamina,” Rowan said with a tender stroke down Milo’s length, and it jumped again in response.
“No wonder you ask to relax so often.”
Rowan’s cheeks flushed darker, and he huffed with something like embarrassment, though he didn’t counter Milo. “I’m glad you enjoyed that, but remember… I’m not your master anymore. I’m just Rowan.”
Milo hadn’t realized he’d said it again, it was just so ingrained in his programing to call this man Master. “Shall I give you pleasure now?”
A cringe was not the response Milo expected. “Milo, listen—”
“I want to! Please?”
Rowan was still aroused, very aroused, Milo could tell, and when their eyes met, whatever dissention was warring within Rowan lost the battle. With a surge forward, he grabbed Milo by the sides of his head and kissed him.
WARNING: Reinitializing of sensations most often associated with high levels of intoxication—
Milo ignored the diagnostic. He was not experiencing a malfunction or reduction in sensory input; his senses were simply overrun by something new and somehow more intimate than when Rowan’s mouth had been lower.
Rowan’s mouth on Milo’s, Rowan’s tongue finding Milo’s tongue, lips suctioning tight and moving, sharing their wetness, prompted an eagerness in Milo that he wasn’t sure what to do with. He knew he wanted to use it to share with Rowan how wonderful this was in whatever ways he could.
In one motion, Milo pulled Rowan into his arms while their lips were still connected.
“Milo!” Rowan sputtered.
“I must lay you down,” Milo explained, cradling Rowan closer, and then shifting their positions to place Rowan on his back where Milo had been. “Now I will be able to pleasure you. May I stay on the sofa with you instead of kneeling beside it?”
Rowan looked around as if dizzy, but once he had his bearings, he smiled. “Yes, Milo. Whatever you want.”
Milo knew exactly what he wanted and wedged himself between Rowan’s legs.
He undid Rowan’s slacks to slide them and Rowan’s underwear down his thighs.
Rowan was indeed aroused, wonderfully so, hard and thick and rosy-pink, with a bud of precum forming that made Milo want to taste it, so he hooked Rowan’s knees over his shoulders and sucked Rowan into his mouth.
“Milo!”
Milo couldn’t taste the way a human could, but he could analyze the contents in his mouth in a way that was like tasting, just as others of his sensors were like smelling, breaking down particles to their barest essence.
Everything about Rowan’s taste and smell was… intoxicating, Milo decided, because both being pleasured and providing pleasure had besieged his senses like the most marvelous of inebriation.
He sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks, and coiled his tongue the way he knew Rowan liked. He could take Rowan very deep, pushing his nose into the ginger curls at Rowan’s base. The way Rowan whimpered when Milo swallowed with Rowan’s length still down his throat was wonderful validation.
Rowan liked this, and Milo was the one providing the sensation.
Milo feathered a hand beneath Rowan’s balls to cup and fondle them, the flat of his free thumb stroking the base whenever he bobbed up, so there was never a moment when part of Milo wasn’t touching Rowan.
In time, he increased his pace, his pressure, his suction, forgetting to watch Rowan for signs of when he was close, so that it surprised them both when Rowan gripped Milo’s hair, cried, “Milo!” and came down Milo’s throat just as unexpectedly as Milo had done to him.
Milo swallowed without issue and blinked at Rowan while licking any remaining residue from his tip.
“Fuck,” Rowan cursed—his pleased “fuck,” his happy expletive, which made Milo smile.
“You seemed to enjoy that more than usual, Rowan,” Milo said, pushing up against the pets of Rowan’s hand in his hair.
“Yeah, well… it’s better with a partner who wants to be with you.” There was uncertainty again, even discomfort in Rowan’s eyes, like shame.
“Before today,” Milo began, “it was not that I did not want to be with you, Rowan, only—”
“I know. I know. But this is better.” Rowan rallied a smile as he continued to pet Milo. It was a wonderful feeling that made Milo very content, as he lowered Rowan’s legs and laid atop him on the sofa—until Rowan cringed again. “I still feel guilty.”
“Why?”
Kindly but firmly, Rowan pushed Milo away so they could sit up.
Rowan’s pants remained at his ankles, and Milo was still naked, but Rowan seemed intent on having their eyes parallel as he said this.
“I need you to know you never have to please me or pleasure me again. Okay? Not anymore. All that matters is what you want.”
“I understand.” Milo nodded. “But, when I want to, I hope we can relax together again.”
Rowan’s uncertainty and discomfort softened as he opened his mouth to respond.
A chime from the front door made them both jump.
Notes:
You’re welcome. ^_- (but seriously, I hope you liked that because we are only like a third of the way through this. Did I seriously originally say 12 chapters? XD)
So Damask (Rowan) as Umbra needs to keep convincing The Ivory Bandit (Milo) that his secret thief persona is the real deal, meaning out-thieving him and leaving love notes turns to purposely getting caught on security cameras so he can tease him even more about beating him.
Only Rowan can’t be in his hero costume for that, or the jig would be up, so Rowan gets this sexy sleek all black number, think symbiote Spider-Man, or Venom really, that hugs all his big burly curves. Mmm. And you better believe Milo notices. ^_-