Julian #3
With my hands still gripping his head, I pull my hips back, take a deep breath, and slam them forward. When my head hits the back of his throat, feeling him contract over me, I groan loudly. At the same time, Atlas begins to cough wildly, only half silenced by my dick.
He does not pinch me, but I give him a moment once I’ve pulled my hips back until just my tip sits on his tongue, to let him breathe. Then, I shove back in.
Soon, I’m fucking into his mouth repeatedly, feeling his tongue desperately run over me, collecting precome on each withdrawal greedily. Drool pours down his chin, his curls sticking to his forehead with sweat.
His face is red, but he’s not choking on it, and suddenly I’m aware that he wants that. He even said he wanted that.
So, when I shove back in, I bury myself to the hilt and hold him there. Atlas convulses twice before settling around me, swallowing and tracing what he can with his tongue. His face darkens, his eyes hazy as he watches me through falling fears.
As I peer down his body, I notice that it’s not just his face that is soaked.
On the front of his slacks, where he has his thighs pressed tightly together, there is a dark patch. He’s soaking his briefs and his pants, just from the taste of me.
“Fuck, Atty,” I moan. “Take yourself out; let me see how much you love this.”
Atlas wastes no time as I pull out just enough for him to breathe again. He undoes his pants and pulls his dick free, letting it lie untouched on his thigh.
It appears he won’t touch himself without my permission.
Fucking perfect.
“Beautiful,” I tell him, shoving back down his throat and holding him there once again as he chokes and convulses around me. “You’re so wet just from blowing me. You love it that much?”
Atlas whimpers around me, his wide eyes dripping as his brows furrow, as if to say, “Yes, yes, I love it!”
“Ungh, fuck. Touch yourself. Work yourself over while I fill your stomach up with my come,” I demand, groaning around the words.
Atlas’s hand shoots up, wiping his chin and collecting his spit and my precome before bringing it to his dick and stroking hard and fast.
I match his pace, fucking into his mouth recklessly. As his teeth catch my skin accidentally, it heightens my sensitivity, causing me to jerk forward.
As I’m about to praise him, to tell him how fucking pretty he looks like this, we hear movement above us. As if someone is piddling around the chapel, praying or cleaning.
Atlas whines, high-pitched and needy as his hand speeds up.
Oh, he likes that.
“Hear that, baby?” I ask him in a low whisper, gripping his hair roughly as I slam forward. “Someone’s right above us. Someone is up there right now, on their knees to pray, and you’re right below them, on your knees for me.”
A garbled jumble of sound leaves Atlas, as if he’s attempting to speak but can’t push the words out past my hard dick or his own pleasure. But I can see his hand stuttering, his lips lifting slightly as he chases the release I can see he’s close to achieving.
“Are you going to be a good boy and come? Are you going to explode all over your hand just from knowing how filthy you’re acting?” My voice is deep and desperate over my panting, my own hips faltering as the pleasure at the base of my spine builds, and my balls draw up tight.
Atlas is sobbing now. His eyes continuously pour, his brows furrowed tightly as he whimpers and chokes. I can see his hard length pulsing in his palm, almost purple with how turned on he is.
“Let me tell you something,” I rush out, knowing I’ll blow at any moment now.
“I’ll never understand why you’re so quick to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but I admit that you’ve never looked so pretty, so pure as you do now, all wet and fucked out just from tasting my cock.
No one, Atlas. No one has ever looked as beautiful as you do. ”
With a muffled, desperate cry, Atlas comes hard. His mouth stops sucking as he falls forward, further into me, and his hand milks his dick thoroughly.
It doesn’t matter, though. Even without the suction of his lips and cheeks, the contraction of his throat and the visual of his orgasm are enough.
I follow after him, hearing his choked gasp as I release down his throat.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, god. I’m going to fill you up, little bunny, just like last time.” I’m groaning and rambling, clutching the back of his head and leaning over it as he swallows and swallows.
By the time I come down and have the common sense to pull from his throat, a thin line of come has begun to trail down his chin.
As soon as he can breathe, he’s coughing loudly, gasping for air. I fall to my knees in front of him, careful not to rest my knees on his drying arousal, and pet his wet cheek with one hand as I clean up his chin with the other.
Atlas leans into my touch as I stuff my thumb into his mouth, feeding him the rest of my come.
“Atlas,” I murmur, and his eyes open to meet mine. “Do you think they’ll know?”
“Huh?” he questions, his throat fucked and his voice strained.
“When you go back upstairs, for the next day or so, do you think your family will know that my come is resting in your stomach?” As if to prove my point, I rest my palm over his lower stomach, pressing in softly.
Atlas makes a small, startled noise.
“I… Kiss me, Julian,” is all he says.
So I do.
I press my lips to his quickly, feeling the way he opens up for me. As if it’s natural, a practiced motion, though I know it’s not. Only I have kissed these lips. Only me.
I swallow each soft, sweet sound he makes, letting my fingers memorize the feel of his back, his shoulders, his throat.
Then, because I know we’ll need to split up for bed soon and I feel like I haven’t done enough, claimed enough, I tilt his head back and spit directly into his waiting mouth.
Atlas groans, his eyelids falling shut as he swallows greedily.
“Good boy,” I whisper, kissing his jaw softly.
“I am?” Atlas asks quietly.
“Such a good, good boy.”
To nobody’s surprise, he grins.