Chapter 10 #3
I got his belt open and yanked his jeans down far enough to expose his ass.
He tried to push back against me, but I held him in place, kept him pinned while I finished getting my own jeans open with one hand.
He bucked against me again, grunting as he struggled, and I paused to kick his legs apart, robbing him of his balance and leverage.
It was awkward and angry, and nothing like it should be, but that was us. We didn’t do things the right way.
My cock sprang free, and I pressed against him, letting him feel exactly what he did to me. He made a sound that might have been a curse or a plea. I couldn’t tell and didn’t care. I just needed to be buried deep inside him again.
“You’re gonna take this so well.” I heard myself crooning in his ear, surprised by how easily the taunts came. I’d always liked to top, and some partners had bought the filth out of me, but this thing with Jude was next level. “Beg for it.”
Jude grunted in response.
I rutted against him, let him feel the weight of my cock sliding between his cheeks while I sucked on my fingers.
Once satisfied, I reached down and poked them between his ass to find his hole.
He was tight, clenching against the intrusion, and I circled the rim slowly, teasingly, making him wait for it.
Jude struggled, hissing through his teeth. “You fucking—”
But his hand came back, gripped my thigh hard enough to bruise, and I knew I had him. He could fight all he wanted, but his body told a different story.
“What’s wrong, Jude?” I pressed the tip of one finger inside, just barely, and felt him tense. “Thought you liked being in charge.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, Jude. I’m fucking you.” I pulled my finger out, spat into my hand and slicked up, then replaced my finger with the head of my cock, pushing in just enough to breach him.
The tight heat made me groan, made my vision blur at the edges.
“Gonna fill you up right here in this shitty bathroom. Gonna make you take it so you learn not to pull that jealousy shit again.”
Jude moaned, low and rough, and for a second, I thought I had him. Thought I’d finally broken through that wall of control he kept wrapped around himself.
Then he pulled forward, slipping off my cock, and twisted in my grip.
I tried to hold him, but he was already moving, already using my overconfidence against me, and he spun us both around. My back hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, and then he was there, pinning me with his whole body, his hand around my throat.
“You think you can just take what you want?” His voice was ragged, savage, and so fucking hot I could barely think. “You think I’m that easy?”
His other hand dropped between us, found my cock, and squeezed.
I gasped, hips jerking forward into his grip. Jude’s hand was rough, unforgiving, jerking me hard enough to make it hurt. The sensation split me open, tore through my defences.
“Fuck,” I choked out.
“Yeah?” Jude’s thumb swept over the head of my cock, gathering the slick there, spreading it down my shaft. “This makes more sense, doesn’t it?”
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t do anything except pant against the wall while he worked me over. My fingers scrabbled for purchase, and when they found his hair, I yanked. Hard.
Jude’s head snapped to the side with a startled moan, exposing the long line of his throat.
I didn’t kiss him. We hadn’t done that since the night in the backseat of my car.
But I could put my mouth on his neck, and I could bite hard enough to leave marks that would show tomorrow, so I dove in, teeth first, and bit down on the tendon there.
He made a sound halfway between a curse and a moan, his hand tightening around my cock.
I sucked hard enough to bruise, licked the salt from his skin, moved lower to worry at his pulse point.
Since he’d made it clear I wouldn’t get to fuck him into the bathroom wall, I needed to take back some control.
“On your knees,” I growled against his throat, tugging his hair harder. “Get on your fucking knees, Jude.”
He hissed, rhythm faltering. “Fucking make me.”
I grabbed his throat again, thumb pressing into the hollow just below his jaw, and this time I squeezed without mercy. His pulse raced under my touch and his eyes locked on mine, bulging slightly at the lack of air.
We stayed like that for three heartbeats. Testing. Challenging each other for dominance. Jude’s mouth was open as he tried to breathe in without showing he was struggling. He was always so damn resistant.
But I wasn’t going to back down, and Jude knew it. He had to break. He had to fold and give in to me and do what I wanted.
Jude finally moved, sliding down my body until he was kneeling between my legs on the dirty bathroom floor. He was graceful even through his anger and reluctant submission, and I swear he put on a show for me; he folded in on himself so prettily and contritely.
His hands went to my thighs, pinning me in place as if I’d be dumb enough to walk away from this, and his mouth was right there. Right where I needed it, but with his lips pressed into a thin, tight line.
“Open,” I said.
His jaw tightened. Defiant to the very end.
I tangled my other hand in his hair and gave him a shake. “Now, Jude.”
He obeyed. Finally. His mouth opened, and I guided my cock past his lips, watched him take me in, and I groaned at the wet heat. The sight of it killed me. Jude on his knees, mouth stretched around my cock, eyes dark and furious and full of hunger, hair a mess and face red. It was fucking sinful.
I didn’t thrust. Not yet. I just held him there and let him adjust, letting us both feel the weight of this moment. I wanted him to understand that he was being such a good boy by getting on his knees and opening his mouth for me.
But then his tongue moved against the underside of my shaft—he couldn’t fucking help himself—and I jerked forward, choking him. He was such a sucker for punishment.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “Learn your place.”
He pulled back enough to speak, my cock slipping from between his lips. “Fuck you.”
I chuckled and used his hair to push his face back into place.
He took me back in, deeper this time, and his throat worked around me like a professional.
I groaned, head falling back against the wall, as I allowed him to set the pace.
It was rough and demanding, taking me like he was trying to prove a point.
Maybe he was. Maybe we both were, though by now I’d forgotten where this had even started.
I twisted my fingers in his hair, and his hands moved from my thighs to my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise. The bathroom was filled with obscene sounds: wet and desperate and wrong in all the best possible ways.
“That’s it. Work that pretty mouth.” I was rocking into him now, meeting him halfway.
I wanted to let loose and fuck his throat until he cried, but I also didn’t want to spook him.
If I got too rough, he might push back and try to turn the tables again, and I might have been lost to reason, but I knew I didn’t want to come anywhere else than down his throat.
“Such a good cocksucker.”
He pulled off again, gasped for air, and looked up at me with eyes that burned. “You think this changes anything?”
“No,” I lied.
His hand wrapped around my cock, stroking while he caught his breath. Saliva connected his lips to my shaft, stretched thin before breaking. I swallowed thickly at the wet.
“Good.”
I stopped anything else he might say by tapping my cock against his cheek, leaving a smear of spit and precome across his skin. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, and when they opened again, they were hazy and unfocused.
I did it again, harder this time, and watched the flush spread down his throat.
“Oh yeah, you like that, huh?” Jude nodded as I pushed my cock across his face, painting an obvious claim.
The bass from the bar bled through the walls, distorted and relentless. Someone laughed outside, drunk and too loud. The floor beneath Jude’s knees was stained with god knows what, dark patches on cracked tile that should’ve made this disgusting. Should’ve made us both reconsider.
It didn’t.
His tongue darted out, caught the head of my cock, and he looked up at me through dark lashes.
Then his mouth was on me again, and I couldn’t think anymore. Could only feel. His tongue. His throat. The way he took me like he owned me, even while kneeling on the floor. The contradiction of it, of him, was going to destroy me.
I felt the pressure building, felt my control starting to slip. He must have felt it too because he doubled down, his throat constricting around me in a way that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Jude.” His name came out strangled. A warning.
He didn’t pull back or slow down. He just kept going, kept taking, until I couldn’t hold back anymore. The orgasm hit me like a freight train, and I came hard, spilling down his throat while my fingers ripped at his dark curls, forcing him to take it.
He swallowed every fucking drop. Then he pulled back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he looked up at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
But, fuck, he was beautiful down there. So beautiful that I finally let go of his hair and let my hand travel down his face.
I cupped his jaw and traced my thumb through the mess that had dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
I collected it and pushed my way between his lips, moaning as his tongue automatically curled around my thumb to suck me clean.
I couldn’t help myself. “Good boy.” It came out as a growl, and the effect on Jude was immediate.
He hissed, jerking his head back. My hand thudded against the wall, where my thumb left a wet smear.
Jude was on his feet fast, unsteady but determined. I waited, unsure if he’d leave or grab me and try to put me on my knees to return the favor.
Instead, he shifted his stance, spreading his legs wide as he stood in front of me.
His hand went to his cock, and my eyes followed the movement.
It was no wonder he was tense and swaying on his feet.
He was impossibly hard and leaking—abandoned—and he worked himself with quick, rough strokes.
There was no finesse to it, or performance for me.
Just the raw, brutal need of a man desperate to get off.
I stayed against the wall, my legs weak and trembling, and watched him. I was hypnotized, incapable of looking away as he worked.
Jude’s free hand braced against the tile beside my head, caging me in, and his breath came in ragged gasps that matched the rhythm of his fist. The tendons in his forearm stood out with each stroke, and I wanted to touch but was too afraid to break the moment.
Jude’s jaw was tight, eyes half-lidded and fixed on my face like he needed to see me to get off.
“Look at you,” he growled. “Fucking wrecked.”
I was. My jeans hung open, cock still out and sensitive, my chest heaving with each breath.
His pace quickened. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily. Close. He was so fucking close, and the sight of it did something to me. It made me desperate for things I shouldn’t want.
This is just sex. Just physical.
Jude’s hand moved faster, his grip tightened, and then he came before I could move.
The groan that tore from his throat was unholy, and I was instantly addicted to the sound.
Hot streams of cum hit my exposed thighs and cock, marking me. He didn’t look away or close his eyes as he crashed over the edge. Jude just watched my face while he painted me with his release, claiming me just as primitively as I’d done to him.
Jude milked himself through it, making sure every drop landed on me. When he finally stopped, we were both panting.
“Pull them up,” he ordered.
I blinked. “What?”
“Your pants. Pull them up. Now.”
My brain was still offline, struggling to process. “I need to clean—”
“No.” His voice went hard. “You’re going to pull your pants up exactly like that and walk back out there. You’re going to spend the rest of the night with my cum drying on your skin.”
The command in his tone made my spent cock twitch. The switch was impossible; he’d just been on his knees, sucking me like it was all he was good for, and now he was back in control, demanding and perverted.
“Do it.”
My hands shook as I tucked myself back into my boxer shorts. His cum smeared against my skin, soaking into the fabric. I pulled my jeans up, and the denim pressed everything closer, making it impossible to ignore.
I’d just finished fixing my belt when Jude’s hand shot out and grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me forward until we were nose to nose.
For one breathless second, I thought he was going to kiss me.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, and my heart hammered against my ribs, and everything in me was wound too tight.
I needed this. I wanted to claim his mouth with my own and work him over until I was swallowing the sounds of his pleasure.
But he didn’t, and I was once again left wanting.
“No one else touches you,” he said instead, his voice low and dangerous. “You understand me? No one.”
I should’ve argued. Should’ve told him to go to hell. But the possessiveness in his tone, the way his fingers dug into my shirt like he couldn’t quite let go, made the words die in my throat.
“Yeah,” I managed. “I understand.”