Prologue #2
“I think I’d like this one better with a gag in his mouth," he mutters. I shift my weight with a forced ease while my gaze stays anchored to them. My fingers drum a slow, mindless beat against my leg, an attempt to bleed off the sudden, toxic spike of possessiveness tightening my chest. “Shall we put it to better use then?” I question, cocking an eyebrow. “ Thought you’d never ask,” Rylen smirks, as he looks back to Dylan and removes his fingers.
“Open that pretty mouth sweetheart, show me what it’s good for. ”
The kid drops like he was built for it, his knees hitting the floor in front of Rylen with a dull thud.
His hands are a blur, yanking the zipper down and freeing Rylen's long thick cock. He grips Ry’s quads before his mouth stretches wide to take every inch of him.
Rylen let out a ragged exhale, sinking deeper into the couch as his head tips back.He lets out a sharp, needy hiss through his teeth, his fingers curling deep into the expensive upholstery until it bunches under his palms.
When he looks up again, it’s me he’s watching, that hungry stare locking me in place.
His hips roll forward, a deliberate thrust into the boy’s mouth that earns him a wet, obscene slurp.
Dylan works his jaw, cheeks hollowing as he tries to keep up with Rylen's rhythm. The sound of his mouth is the only thing I can hear. Spit slicks Rylen’s length, a stray bead dribbling down Dylan’s chin as he pushes deeper.
Ry’s fingers weave into the back of Dylan's hair, tightening until there’s no give, forcing him to take every inch as he picks up the pace.
My breathing goes shallow, my pulse thumping a heavy beat in my ears.
I can’t look away from the raw intensity in Rylen’s eyes as they stay pinned to mine, even as he ruthlessly claims every inch of the towel boy’s mouth.
My cock strains against the zip on my pants, begging to be set free .
Dylan gags, a sharp splutter that would have most men easing off, but Rylen grinds in deeper, fucking his throat with a relentless force. The boy’s hands twitch like he might push away, but he doesn’t get a chance to. Not when Rylen’s gaze is burning through me like this.
“Tell me, Ry,” I murmur, my voice low enough that it barely threads through the wet sounds between us, “does it make your heart hammer when I watch you claim Towel Boy’s pretty lips?” I taunt. His answering growl is low, vibrating through the small space.
“It’s my birthday, and I’m not doing this alone. Get your fucking pants off,” Rylen commands, his eyes locking onto mine with a violent intensity. “Let’s see who finishes first.”
I’ve never heard that kind of sexual dominance come from Ry before and it does something twisted to my insides.
I quickly slide open my desk drawer and tear a condom from the box hidden there.
Every member of Velvet’s staff submits to quarterly health checks, but I still prefer to practice what I preach.
My belt comes free with a sharp snap, the sound cracking through the air.
I shove my jeans down, cock already heavy in my grip, the head flushed and leaking as I slide the condom down my thick shaft.
One click of my fingers and Dylan tears himself from Rylen’s cock just long enough to stand and spread his legs for me, presenting like he’s been trained for it.
His ass is round and flushed, the skin pebbling with anticipation.
I spit once, pausing as the glisten rolls over the curve of his ass before I smear it in with two fingers, never breaking eye contact with Rylen as I line myself up.
Dylan shivers at the first push inside, muscles tightening around me like a vise before giving way to the steady drive of my hips.
He moans into Rylen’s lap, mouth wrapping back around him greedily, the sound vibrating through his body.
Each thrust is deep enough to make the boy grind back for more.
Rylen’s chest is rising faster now, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watches me fuck Dylan in time with his own thrusts. It builds for him first; I can see it happening, the twitch in his jaw, the way his thighs tense, the slow suffocation of restraint breaking apart under my gaze.
Rylen’s grip on Dylan’s skull tightens until his knuckles blanch, and with a final, vicious snap of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt.
Dylan gags, throat convulsing as Rylen empties into him with a panting breath that fills my thoughts.
God that was a sight to behold. The sound of Rylen coming is like a symphony playing inside my skull, pushing me closer to the edge, though I don’t follow.
Not yet. I hold myself just on the brink, letting the weight of the moment stretch between us, my cock still buried deep inside towel boy’s tight heat.
Rylen’s chest rises and falls like he’s been caught in a storm.
I pull free only when I feel his gaze sharpen again, taking the condom off and tossing it aside.
I wrap my fist around my length and drag each stroke slow enough to make him watch every inch disappear and reappear in my hand.
The way he watches me stroke myself makes my balls ache .
The first hot spill catches on Dylan’s sweat soaked skin, painting his back in thick ribbons that run down the middle of his spine.
Dylan shudders between us with his own release, but I only look at Rylen, holding him there in the weight of my silence, making him feel exactly how much I’ve wanted this—all the times I’ve thought about doing this while fisting myself late at night.
“You look good all soaking wet,” I tell Dylan without actually looking down, letting my voice cut through his panting.
“Maybe there’s a place for you with our dommes after all. ”
Rylen’s eyes drop first. He rises from the leather with a quiet, deliberate grace, quickly tucking himself back into his pants and walks away without a single word. The void he leaves behind is crushing, a silence far more suffocating than the heat of the last few minutes.
I feel nothing as I stare at Dylan’s naked ruined form. He’s not the reason I was able to come; Rylen was. If I’m being honest, it’s always been him.