Chapter Twenty-Four #2
He hisses and rears back, but recovers quickly, sweeping me down to the mat with a knock from his leg behind both my knees.
I grunt as he presses all the wind out of me, straddling my chest with the side of his forearm pressed against my throat.
His other hand curls around my wrists, pinning both my arms to the mat above my head.
His inked chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath.
“What the fuck was that all about? Where did that sudden burst of energy come from?” he growls.
I attempt to puff up my chest, but it’s not much with his weight pinning me down. “You ever get this hard when you’re sparring with Micah?” I rasp, curiosity getting the better of me.
He blinks once, confused, then realization sets in, and he smirks. He grinds his hips, rubbing his still-hard cock between the pecks I’ve formed from working out more, since I’ve sobered up. “You’re worried that I get this hard for Micah when we spar?”
I nod, and he grinds again. “You’re concerned that this dick isn’t just yours?” he asks, his voice laced with gravel.
“It’s a valid concern,” I croak, swallowing hard under the weight of his arm still pressed on my throat.
“Is it?” He cocks his head to the side. “I thought I’ve been pretty fuckin’ clear who I want choking on it, and that sure as shit isn’t Micah,” he hisses. “I’m pretty sure this is just you being a goddamn brat again…”
Well, I wasn’t, but damn, if the process of getting that dick in my mouth ain’t broke, I’m not about to bother fixing it.
“So, you’ve never thought about what’d feel like to let him suck you off?” I prod, egging him on further by puffing up my chest again. “I’ve made out with him before. I know how good he can be with that mouth…”
His jaw ticks, and his pupils dilate. His arm slides off my throat only so he can pull himself out of his shorts. My mouth waters with the need to have him sink into me, to taste the salt on his sweaty skin, to bury my nose in his musky all-masculine scent. Fuck, I crave it.
“Wee-Waters,” he grumbles, fisting his dick at the root and guiding it up to my lips.
My tongue darts out, and I’m rewarded with a little taste of his heady pre-cum.
“You’re a fuckin’ pain in my ass, but you are my goddamn pain in the ass.
Yours is the only mouth I have ever wanted to shut the hell up by stuffing my cock into it.
” He paints another surge of pre-cum on my lips.
His wrapped hand tightens around my wrists when I attempt to pull out of his hold to guide his dick into my mouth to stop him from teasing me. He leans forward, the tip of his aggressively swollen dick prodding into my jaw. “You’re being a fucking brat, because even I know you’re not that dumb.”
He snickers before he leans back and forces two fingers into my mouth, prying my mouth open and tipping my chin down.
I feel the wraps on this hand brush against my lips before the pre-cum slickened, velvety slide of his shaft as he slips on into my saliva-coated mouth.
He removes his fingers, allowing my lips to stretch solely around his throbbing cock.
His fingers tangle in my hair, gripping me hard as he holds me steady as he rolls his hips fucking into my face.
Out of the corner of my leaking eyes, I see the outline of his corded thighs ripple as he pumps his cock in and out of my mouth at a bruising pace.
I swallow hard when he stills slightly, reveling when he reaches the back of my throat, nudging my tonsils.
His grasp on my wrists tighten, and I know already I’ll have more marks on me by the time I greedily accept his load.
I love the bruises. I love that I’m covered in them, in all various stages of healing. I love the ownership of me that they represent, and I’ll happily accept more of them that are visible outside of my clothing.
“What I don’t ever want you doing again,” he grunts, thrusting at a more punishing pace, “is bringing up someone else while I’m fucking throbbing for you.
I don’t care if you are a glutton for punishment, you are the one who consumes my fucking thoughts, day in and day out.
You are the one I chose to let into my life. You are mine. You got that?”
My neglected cock twitches at those words.
I swear to god, I could fuckin’ blow right now, knowing that I’m more than just a fucktoy for him right now.
I nod the best I can with my mouth stuffed so full of his dick, drool pouring down my jaw, likely creating puddles on the mat.
I’m whimpering and moaning, quite literally begging for his orgasm, my nostrils flared as I struggle to take in breaths as he fucks my throat.
“You want your reward?” he asks, his hand falling out of my hair to grip my throat. “Fuck, I can feel myself in here,” he muses, the pad of his thumb prodding at the head of his dick through the thin skin. I swallow, and he groans. “So fuckin’ tight. You want me to come down it?”
“Mmmph!” My cry is muffled into his groin.
He groans again, his fingers tightening around the column of my neck.
His abs go taut, pleasure rippling throughout the rest of his body.
He shudders, thighs clenching around my ribcage.
“Oh f-fuck, Gannett,” he growls, heaving out a choked breath.
“Take it! Fuckin’ take it! Oh god, I’m coming. Christ…”
I struggle to swallow everything that he pours into me in heavy spurts.
I splutter, more focused on watching the filthy way he barrels through his orgasm, losing every ounce of control he fights so hard to hold onto.
I’m achingly hard, my dick straining up towards my navel, moments away from shattering myself at the sight of him reaching his pleasure.
Suddenly, he pulls out, catching the last of his release onto his fingers, right above the hand wraps.
He lifts up, spreading his cum between his inner thighs before shimmying down my body.
Then, swipes up the pool of pre-cum that stretches between my pelvis and the tip of my dick, smearing it all over my dick.
Slowly, he lowers himself back down so my slickened cock is nestled between the crease of his ass, gliding between his cheeks.
“Fuck me here,” he pants breathlessly, gently bobbing on his knees, another little bit of his control fading away and being replaced with need.
My palms come to rest on his thighs, and I slide them up to his narrowed hips, holding him in place, hovering just above me. “Don’t knock me out for asking, but you’re sure you’re okay with this?”
He licks his lips. “I appreciate your concern, Gannett, but you’re right, I don’t want you to coddle me. Just trust that if I’ve asked, I’m okay with it, alright?”
I nod bucking my hips up, my cock slipping deliciously between his cheeks. “You’re so strong, Gordy,” I praise him.
He stiffens in my grasp, stilling before he slightly shakes his head.
“You are,” I reaffirm, rocking into him harder.
“You’ve been through so much, and yet here you are, taking what you need from me, right here on the floor of your own gym.
If that doesn’t scream boss behavior, I don’t know what does. ”
“I-I’m not,” he rasps, swallowing hard.
“You’re not the boss yet, I know that,” I grunt, trying real hard not to come as I piston into his hot channel, because he needs to hear these affirmations.
“But don’t think I can’t foresee that being the inevitable outcome.
Your determination to change is what makes you strong, Gordy. It’s what I love the most about you…”
His whiskey-hued eyes study mine. He licks his lips again before he leans down and kisses me. He melts on top of me, the metaphorical chains holding him under the water of his own power struggle slipping away. Gently, I roll him over so his back is on the mat.
I slot myself into the space between his spread thighs. Spitting onto my fingers, I reach between our bodies and recoat his crease. “This isn’t submission,” I murmur on his lips. “This is empowerment in its highest form.”
“I trust you,” he groans, when I slide my spit-soaked dick back between his cheeks.
“And that means so much to me, Gordy,” I murmur, nipping my way down his neck, sucking when I get to his collarbone. “I promise I’ll take good care of you. Always.”
From there, we spiral into a fit of panting and writhing against each other as I pump my cock between the globes of his ass.
The heat of our bodies creates friction for his re-inflated cock, eliciting more groans from him.
He palms my ass, his strong grip forcing more power behind my every thrust. Pleasure overtakes me, crashing into me like hurricane-level surf, hauling me into the undertow in a current of pure ecstasy.
“W-where do you want it?” I ask him, not wanting to waste a bit of this impending orgasm by painting the mats with it. He opens his mouth, and that’s all it takes before I’m launching myself upward, pointing my pulsing dick towards his gaping maw.
My orgasm tears through me, making me weak in the knees, throwing me off balance.
I can’t control my aim for shit as I cover his face, beard, and neck in my release.
Almost none of it actually makes it past his lips.
The sight of him covered in my cum unearths something primal in me—something feral.
I grip his jaw and, like some starved animal, lap off what I can from his skin, feeding it back to him with my tongue.
Cum play. It’s something I’ve grown quite fond of. Before Gordy, my vanilla ass didn’t even realize that was a thing. My how hard I have been schooled, though.
“What’s that smirk for?” Gordy tilts his head.
“Have you noticed I’ve been eating pineapples?” I ask, curious if the lore surrounding it making your cum taste sweeter is true. I know Gordy likes his sugary treats, so naturally…
“What?” Gordy asks, his brows knit with confusion.
“Did that—taste kinda like a pina colada?”
Gordy rolls his eyes and shoves me off of him. “You have this way of taking every moment and making it real fucking awkward, you know that?” he grumbles. “I don’t even know what a pina colada tastes like. I hardly drink. If I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be some fruity cocktail.”
I sigh, sitting up. “I was trying to make it sweeter for you.”
He runs his fingers through his beard, grimacing when he realizes he’s just smeared more of my mess in it.
“I appreciate the effort,” he grunts. “But we probably ought to get this place— and ourselves—cleaned up before Micah gets here to open up for the day.” He reaches down with his clean hand, offering me aid in standing on my still-wobbly legs.
“You’re showering here?” I ask, confused. I know he usually waits until he gets home. Probably feels safer there.
“Yep,” he notes. “Then we can go grab breakfast before we go do whatever it is you have planned for this date.”
I smirk. “You’re going to love it, promise. Dude dates are way funner to plan, lemme tell you what. No flowers, none of that woo-woo shit—”
“You’re generalizing again,” he reminds me. “You still have these heteronormative tendencies, I’ve noticed. Some guys like that woo-woo shit. It just so happens I’m not one of them.”
“Right, well, uh,” I stammer, feeling properly dressed down, “I’m still learning. Why don’t we just call it a big, gay date instead?”
He smirks, nudging me in the ribs. “I’m sure it’s all a part of your trademarked Moving on With Maturity plan.”
I scowl. “Do not mock the plan!”
His grin softens, and he leans in and pecks a kiss on my temple. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Wee-Waters.”