Chapter 3 The Movie #3
Atticus hummed against his skin, wicked and pleased.
His hands slid up Jericho’s ribs, feeling every breath, every tremor.
Jericho pretended to be the big scary one, but underneath the bravado he melted like butter under Atticus’s hands.
It was one of Atticus’s favorite things about their marriage, that this man, all rough edges and blunt force, went soft only for him.
Atticus licked the sticky wetness from his stomach, letting his tongue graze the flushed head of his erection. “They’re in kindergarten. It’s pass/fail.”
He took him into his mouth, tongueing at his slit. Jericho made a high sound that only Atticus’s mouth could pull from him. “S-See, loophole,” he managed.
Atticus snorted, sucking just the tip, the sound obscene over the muted screams coming from their television, now all but forgotten. He pulled off to say, “Yeah, right. They’ll have the girls acting as their attorneys within an hour of that argument starting. And we’ll lose.”
Jericho made another strangled sound, staring down at him as Atticus made a show of flicking his tongue all around the sensitive head of his cock.
“Fuck, Freckles. I’ve missed this mouth.”
Atticus caught his gaze. “Prove it.”
Jericho’s pupils blew wide, nostrils flaring. “Oh, Freckles. You’re just begging for me to ruin you.”
Atticus licked up the underside of his length, following the fat vein there, before letting his teeth scrape lightly. Jericho’s thighs flexed, tightening around Atticus’s hips, another harsh sound escaping his lips as he tightened his fingers still resting at the nape of his neck.
“Think you can?” Atticus taunted.
He braced himself at the dark glint in his husband’s eyes.
Jericho planted his feet, forcing Atticus’s head down as he thrust up, his cock hitting the back of his throat with enough force to knock tears from his eyes.
Not even anticipation could keep him from gagging around him, saliva filling his mouth and dripping down his chin.
Jericho gave him no reprieve, immediately fucking his throat like he wasn’t a person, but a toy to be used without thought.
“Fuck, I love the way you look when you’re choking on my cock, Freckles,” Jericho growled. “I love making a mess of you. My perfect little cocksleeve.”
Atticus moaned around him, rutting against the mattress, pleasure jolting through him at the friction as Jericho used him mercilessly, forcing his cock deeper with every stroke.
“That’s it, baby. Gag for me. You’re so fucking filthy for me.
Letting me fuck you like a whore, drooling all over yourself while you fuck our mattress like a desperate slut. ”
Atticus whined even as his jaw ached and his throat burned like he’d swallowed fire.
He would take far worse just to know Jericho was pleased with him, to know that he was the only one who ever got to see him falling apart like this.
He ground himself into the mattress, wishing it was his husband’s hand.
“Oh, fuck,” Jericho panted, hips thrusting hard and fast like he was too far gone to stop.
Atticus just took it. There was a time when the slick sounds of his throat being brutalized would have had him dying from embarrassment, now it only stoked the fire raging inside him.
He could feel himself leaking into the mattress, couldn’t help but dig his nails into Jericho’s muscular thighs, just desperate for something to ground him.
“Gonna come,” Jericho panted. “You’re gonna take my load, right? You look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock. Gonna swallow every last drop, aren’t you, princess?”
The sound that escaped Atticus was something between a wail and a scream, his orgasm ripping through him at Jericho’s words. He soaked the mattress, his brain scrambling as Jericho continued to fuck his cock past his lips, pulling back only enough to flood Atticus’s mouth with his bitter release.
There was so much it was leaking from the corners of his mouth.
“Don’t waste it, Freckles,” he growled. “Be good. Swallow it all for me.”
Atticus did as he was told without thought, his whole body shaking with the aftershocks of his own unexpected orgasm. He continued to nurse Jericho’s cock through his release, truly not wanting to waste a single drop, just like Jericho said.
Neither moved as they came down from their highs.
Jericho let Atticus cock warm him as he combed fingers through his sweaty hair, belly heaving beneath his head.
Atticus could fall asleep just like this.
Hell, he had fallen asleep like that before.
Jericho’s softening cock in his mouth, in his ass…
he liked feeling they were still connected.
There was something soothing about it. It made him feel safe.
After a while, Jericho said, “Did you come untouched just from me calling you princess?”
Atticus flushed, his whole body growing hot. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. He let Jericho slip from his lips before mumbling, “I can’t say that it was that specifically. It could have been any number of things.”
“Come here, princess,” Jericho teased softly, pulling him up until he could wrap his arms around him. “You’re so fucking sexy it kills me.”
Atticus went willingly. Letting him manhandle him until he was tucked under one heavy arm, his head over Jericho’s heavily thudding heart.
Jericho kissed the top of his head. “That was hot, baby. No lie. Your head game belongs in the Hall of Fame.” Atticus buried his face against his chest. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t put that award on your wall right next to all your others.”
Atticus peeked his head back out, tone pouty even to his own ears as he said, “I’m extrinsically motivated. Is that a crime?”
“Hell no. I’ll build you your own super-secret trophy case in the basement and you can collect all the achievements you want like a little sex-prize goblin.”
“A sex trophy-case?” Atticus said, trying to sound exasperated, but sounding more…intrigued?
“You can’t even fake your disgust. You love the idea of being rewarded for sex. God, you really are perfect, Freckles.”
“Shut up,” Atticus muttered, lightly slapping his arm.
“I won’t. I’m already visualizing the fake wall I’m gonna build to hide our own sex dungeon in our new house. Too bad we hadn’t thought to mention it to the builders in advance.”
Atticus hid a smile, then gently bit his husband right over his scorpion tattoo.
“Do you wanna go for round two or do you want me to rewind the movie so you can drool over the idea of you sandwiched between two Michael B Jordan’s first?” Jericho asked after a bit.
Atticus rolled off of him onto his belly, stretching with a groan. “If you have to ask, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Jericho spanked him hard enough to drag another throaty moan from him. He laid on top of him, lips against his ear. “I’ll let you drool over Smoke and Stack if you promise when it’s over you’ll recreate that video you sent me this afternoon in person.”
Atticus glanced at the lube on the side table, then at the clock, heart sinking as he realized how late it had gotten. “We both have to be up early.”
“The lift is broken in the garage and you work for yourself? We can fuck all night, get the kids off to school and then sleep all day.”
Atticus started to protest but realized that—technically—Jericho was right. “Can we?”
Jericho arched a brow. “Who’s gonna stop us, Freckles?”
There were a million reasons why Atticus should say no.
Tomorrow was the Villains & Vigilantes party to kick off the weekend.
And before that, there were stacks of grants to be filed, clinical reviews to finish, even a meeting with the CDC he was supposed to zoom into tomorrow afternoon.
But all of that paled in comparison to the thought of spending all night and all day wrapped up in his husband.
“Okay. I’m in. Let’s do it,” he finally said. “But at some point, we will have to get our costumes.”
“I had Adam grab them when he grabbed his and Noah’s with the twins,” Jericho said. “I cannot wait to see you in that Captain America costume.”
“I can’t wait to see you in yours either, but no funny stuff until the party’s over. I can’t imagine how hard it is to get someone’s jizz out of spandex.” Jericho barked out a laugh so loud it startled him. “What?” Atticus asked, offended without really knowing why.
“I just never expected to hear you utter the word jizz. You’ve been spending too much time with our older children, I think.”
Atticus flicked him on the shoulder, then pinched his nipple until he hissed. “Start the movie before I change my mind and it's you and a cold shower tonight.”
“Mean,” Jericho muttered, rubbing his nipple, even as he reached for the remote.
“You love it,” Atticus said as his husband’s weight settled on top of him like a weighted blanket.
“I love you,” Jericho countered with a kiss to his cheek.
Atticus didn’t say anything, just knocked his head against Jericho’s softly as his husband—finally—hit play.