Chapter 28 Damien
Damien
I don’t say it like an order. There’s no bark in my voice, no edge—just a raw invitation, a space I’m holding open for him to step into, if he wants it.
When Noah slips off my lap and sinks to his knees between my legs, my heart stutters hard enough that I feel dizzy.
I keep my hands braced on the sheets, forcing myself to let him move first, to give him the control he’s never had.
He glances up at me, searching my face for any sign of doubt, but there’s nothing there except awe and want, and perhaps a little fear. My cock aches, straining against my boxers, and when he drags his hands up to the waistband, I nearly lose it.
He’s so fucking brave, even when he’s shaking. “Just tell me what you like,” he whispers, voice soft and uncertain.
Swallowing hard, I say, “Anything you give me, Blue.”
He gives me a look, eyes flickering, not letting me off that easily. “Damien, be real. I don’t know what to give you. Please teach me.”
I chuckle and reach down, weaving my fingers gently through his hair, tugging until he looks at me. “Just touch me.”
His hand trembles when he wraps it around me over the fabric, but the heat of it is enough to make my hips jerk. When he leans in, mouth brushing the hard line of my cock through my boxers, I can’t hold in the sound that escapes me.
“That’s good,” I manage, barely more than a breath. “Fuck, that’s good. Just like that.”
He gets bolder, mouth trailing lower, then higher, lips teasing, hands mapping the line of my thighs until I’m panting for him. He glances up, fingers toying with my waistband, eyes shining.
I nod, heat rushing through me. “Yeah,” I rasp. “Go ahead. Take me out.”
Noah works my boxers down slowly, and the cool air hits me, making me shiver.
I’m leaking with anticipation, cockhead flushed and sensitive.
I can see the shock on his face, the way he stares at me like he’s never seen another man naked before—which, to be fair, is probably true.
It makes me want to ruin him and protect him at the same time.
“Start slow,” I coach, forcing myself to stay gentle. “Wrap your hand around the base and stroke. And if you want, just… let me feel your mouth a little at a time.”
His touch is cautious but eager, his hand curling around the base, thumb rubbing over the head, and making me hiss. He leans in, lips parting, and licks the precum from the tip. I can’t help the sound that leaves me and the way my hips twitch up, desperate for more.
My hand fists in the sheets again, not wanting to overwhelm him. “Is this alright?” he asks.
Is this alright??? Fuck me dead.
“God, yes,” I groan. “You have no idea how good. Just… keep going. Take it at your pace.”
He works his way down with soft, shallow kisses, then back up, lips brushing the head before his tongue flicks out, testing, tasting.
Every new move is a revelation on his face—awe, shock, pride when I groan for him.
I feel his hesitation, the way he’s nervous, but there’s hunger there too.
I want him to know he’s safe to explore, to mess up, to try again.
“You’re doing so good,” I say, voice barely steady. “Feels incredible, Noah. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”
When he finally takes me into his mouth—just the head at first—I swear I could come from the sight alone. I let him take his time, swallowing around me, eyes watering a little, breath coming in shallow pants as he tests how much he can take.
“That’s it, just like that,” I murmur, my hand sliding to his hair, not pulling, just holding. “You’re so fucking good for me, baby.”
The words seem to do something to him. He moans around me, the vibration shooting through my body, and my hips twitch again, barely restrained.
Every noise he makes—the little whimpers, the shaky breaths—pushes me closer to the edge.
I can’t take my eyes off him, and I need to see those eyes look at me, too.
“Blue, look at me,” I manage. When he does—eyes wide and wet, mouth full of my cock—my vision blurs at the edges. “Fuck! Stop—stop—I’m gonna—”
He pulls off quickly, licking his lips, eyes shining with nerves and pride. “I don’t know if I want to swallow yet. Is that okay?”
My heart aches, full to bursting at how careful he’s being with his own boundaries, how brave he is for trying this at all.
I nod quickly, grabbing his face in both hands and dragging him up for a kiss, not caring about anything except the taste of him, the feel of his mouth on mine, the knowledge that this boy chose me to show himself to.
“Of course it’s okay. Never do anything you’re not ready for, Blue, you hear me? You made me feel fucking amazing. You don’t have to prove anything. You’re everything. Shit—just stay here. Stay with me.”
He smiles, shy and proud and a little relieved, and I pull him up into my lap, kissing him deep and slow, tasting myself on his tongue, grateful in a way I can barely put into words.
I pull back, forehead resting against his for a second while my pulse roars in my ears. I’m right on the edge, wrecked from his mouth, and I know if I don’t slow this down, I’m going to lose it in a way that’ll scare him.
“Hey,” I murmur, brushing my nose against his. “I wanna try something with you. Nothing crazy. Just… something I think you’ll like. You okay with that?”
He nods immediately. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I trust you.”
That does something dangerous to me. I kiss him once more, then ease him back onto the bed so I can reach over to my nightstand and open the drawer. My fingers find the familiar bottle without even looking. When I turn back, he’s watching me, brows pulled together in curiosity.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Lube,” I say honestly, no teasing, no pressure. “Makes things smoother. Less overwhelming. We’ll go slow, and if at any point you want to stop, you say the word, alright?”
He swallows, then nods again, cheeks pink. “Okay.”
I set the bottle aside and reach for the waistband of his jockstrap, pausing there, giving him another out even though every nerve in my body is screaming to keep going. “Can I take this off?” I ask quietly.
“Yes,” he says, a little breathless. “You can.”
I peel it down slowly, careful not to overstimulate him, guiding the fabric down his thighs and setting it aside.
He’s hard and flushed and beautiful, that massive cock heavy against his stomach, and the sight nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.
I don’t touch him yet. I just look, letting him see the appreciation on my face.
“Goddamn,” I mutter. “Still can’t get over how beautiful you are.”
He squirms a little, embarrassed but clearly proud too, and that mix just kills me. I climb back onto the bed and tug him closer.
“Get on top of me,” I say softly, guiding him gently until he’s straddling my thighs instead of kneeling between them.
He settles there, hands braced on my chest, eyes flicking down between us and then back up to my face. He looks nervous again, but not scared, and I make sure he can see how steady I am.
“Watch me,” I tell him, flipping the cap on the bottle and squeezing a little lube into my palm. I spread it slowly, letting him see every movement so nothing surprises him. Then I reach down and slick myself up first, slow strokes that make me hiss through my teeth.
His eyes widen. “Oh.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Yeah. Same reaction every time.”
I add a little more to my hand and then bring it up between us, holding it out so he can see. “I’m gonna touch you now,” I say. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”
“Okay,” he whispers.
I wrap my hand around him gently, spreading the slick heat along his length, and he gasps, back arching instinctively. I slow immediately, thumb brushing soothing circles at his hip. “Easy. Breathe. You’re good.”
He nods, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “It’s okay. It just feels… really good.”
“That’s the goal,” I murmur, smiling. I start moving again, slow, steady strokes, watching his face instead of his cock, tracking every reaction so I don’t miss anything.
I wrap one slicked hand around both our cocks, pressing them together. He moans, hips rocking instinctively, the heat of him burning against me, the lube making everything so fucking slick.
“Hands on my chest,” I pant, biting my lip as I jerk us faster. “Ride it with me. Fuck my fist, Babygirl.”
He whimpers, chasing the friction, grinding into my hand. The slick sounds between us make it dirtier, filthier, and I fucking love it. His cock slides against mine with every movement, tip to tip, leaking, throbbing, too sensitive already from before, but neither of us is stopping.
We move together like that, slow and messy and intimate, the room filled with soft sounds and heavy breathing. I can feel him getting close, the way his body tenses, the way his breath catches, and I tighten my arm around his back, keeping him grounded.
“Hey,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to his. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. If you come, just let it happen.”
He nods frantically, eyes glassy. “Don’t stop. Please.”
“I won’t,” I promise, and I keep the rhythm steady, coaxing instead of chasing. I keep stroking us, rocking up against him, our cocks sliding slick and hot.
When he finally tips over the edge, it’s quiet and intense, his release painting my chest in thick, hot ropes.
The feel of him twitching against me is too much, and I follow not long after, the sight of him falling apart for me pushing me past my own control.
I groan his name into his shoulder as it hits me, riding it out together until everything slows.
I don’t let go of him when it’s over. I keep my arms wrapped around his back, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles as he comes back to himself. His forehead drops to my shoulder, breath still shaky.
“Mien…” he laughs softly, exhausted and dazed. “I feel… wobbly.”
“That’s normal,” I say, kissing his hair. “Completely normal reaction, baby.”