Julian #2
He’s on his bed, chest pressed to his mattress, and his arm reaches behind himself as he buries his fingers into his hole. I can see the shaking in his movements, telling me that his other hand is wrapped firmly around his dick, which is hidden from my view.
Completely naked, covered head to toe in a sheen of sweat, and bright red, Atlas is trying to work through his flare-up all alone.
A delicious cocktail of rage, pity, and lust courses through me at the sight.
“Atlas,” I call, closing the door behind myself and locking it.
At the sound of my voice, a loud, desperate cry leaves him.
“Julie?” he whimpers, turning his face from where it was previously pressed into his pillows to face me.
His cheeks are soaked with tears, his lips trembling as he gives me wide, sad eyes.
“What are you doing, sweet thing?” I take a step toward him. “Why are you suffering alone?”
A sob leaves Atlas’s throat. “I-I have to. You can’t h-help; you’ll get hurt!”
“That’s why you’re pushing me away? You think I’ll get hurt?” I ask, and he nods viciously against the pillows. “Am I not old enough to make my own decisions, to handle myself?”
Atlas pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, and with each slow step I take, his fingers work faster, more desperately.
“Does it feel good? Is it enough?”
“No!” he cries. “I keep coming, and n-nothing helps.”
At his broken words, I notice it. The white streaks on the duvet beneath him. He’s been doing this. All day. Most likely since he left the altar room.
“Oh, baby,” I coo, reaching the bed just in time to run my fingers up his spine. “You poor thing.”
I watch his eyes roll back, his mouth falling open, though no sound escapes him.
“Can I help you?” I ask. “Can I touch you now?”
“Please,” he pleads. “Please touch me, Julie. Make it go away.”
It appears Atlas is no longer afraid of the consequences of my touching him. Thank fucking god.
“Take these out,” I instruct softly, grabbing his wrist and tugging with very little force. Atlas whines in disagreement.
“No, leave them. Please leave them,” he begs.
The brown curls at the base of his neck are stuck to his skin, his toes digging into the duvet.
“If you take them out, I’ll fill you up so you’re warm and full,” I promise.
Atlas practically purrs at that, slowly pulling his fingers from his entrance and allowing his arm to fall limply to his side.
“Good boy, Atty,” I praise. “Now get on your back. Come on, be good.”
I roll him gently, and when he finally settles, the red of his cheeks and the way his hair is stuck to his face make my heart skip a beat. He looks so fragile, so fucked out and needy that I feel like the most desired, most important man on the planet.
Like Atlas might die without me.
His chest rises and falls, covered in light scratches and marks. His nipples are hard and abused, as if he’s been tugging at them relentlessly. His hard dick lies against his lower stomach, weeping and borderline purple with how aggressively horny he is.
I can’t tell if it’s drool or sweat or tears that drip down his chin and onto his neck, but I lick it up all the same, hearing his soft cry at the feel of my warm tongue.
As my fingers graze his sensitive nipples, he arches, his fingers digging into my biceps.
“Please, please, please,” he mumbles.
“I hear you. I’ll make it all better, okay?”
As I move to sit up, only for a moment to remove my clothes, Atlas panics. He grabs hold of my arms and yanks me on top of himself.
“Don’t leave! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for being bad before, but don’t leave me now. I think I’m dying. I feel like I’m dying.” He’s sobbing, gripping me so tightly I’m concerned he’s drawing blood.
“Shhh. Atty, listen to me. Hey, listen.” The force of my tone makes him hesitate, quieting to the point of only releasing small cries. “I’m not leaving you, I promise. I’m just taking my clothes off. You hear me?”
I tap the side of his face softly, keeping his attention as his eyes focus and then unfocus once more.
“Uh-huh,” he mutters quietly.
When I move to get up again, he lets me.
With incredible speed, being mindful of his painful condition, I rip off my shirt and my pants, sliding my briefs off before climbing between his legs.
Atlas immediately reaches for me again, and one thought becomes incredibly clear.
I was right. This time around, he does not need rough sex. He needs soft, loving, and gentle. He needs to be held, grounded, and praised.
I’m going to teach him.
“Little bunny,” I murmur, laying my body over his. He’s so fucking hot that it burns to touch him. “I’m going to touch you so nice and soft tonight, okay?”
Atlas shakes his head, fast and angry. “No! Fuck me, Julie. Fuck me hard.”
“Shhh,” I coo once more. “Listen to me. Be a good boy and listen.” Atlas settles down just as he did before, always so desperate to be good and to please. “I’m going to show you, alright? I’m going to make you come so hard by loving you gently, and you’re going to fall apart.”
“L-loving me?” he whispers, his big blue eyes once again unfocusing as his hips rut against mine. I can feel his body twitching.
“Yeah, baby. I’m gonna make love to you. You ready?”
“Yes,” he moans.
I wonder briefly what it is about that phrasing that turns him on so much, but the thought passes quickly.
Letting my hand drop between his thighs, I sink two fingers into him right off the bat. They sink in easily, earning me a desperate mewl. Adding another, I push into him firmly, but slowly, angling right where I know that little bundle of nerves sits inside of him.
“Y-yes, yes!” Atlas shouts, grinding down onto my fingers desperately. “More, Julie.”
“Alright, alright,” I concede.
He’s loosened himself up pretty nicely, and I think I’m just about as desperate as he is to get inside.
Withdrawing my fingers, I line myself up with his entrance after lubing myself with the arousal pooling on his stomach, and begin to sink in. This time, I’m not fighting the resistance of his body. Instead, I’m fighting his heels that are pushing into my lower back, attempting to shove me forward.
But I’m stronger than him, especially when he’s like this, so I continue the slow, torturous entrance that has both of us panting.
I have every intention of doing this the right way; I just need to make sure my dick remembers that and doesn’t start fucking into him wildly.
As I finally bottom out, Atlas is glaring up at me. His big blue eyes are full of tears and so much desperation that I’m sick with want, but I slowly drag my hips back and sink forward once more, feeling him quiver around me.
“Julie,” he whines, grinding down onto me.
I slide my hands up his sides and shove them under his shoulders, gripping the tops of them, my fingertips digging into his collarbones.
“Do you feel me?” I whisper against his lips. “Can you feel how I’m filling you up? How hot and hard I am?”
Atlas bites his full bottom lip, nodding as he gazes up at me. Little by little, his glare fades.
“And this—” I start, dragging the tip of my dick over his prostate slowly. “Can you feel this? How I know exactly where to touch you to drive you crazy?”
I drag the crown of my cock over that little bundle over and over again, slow and firm, feeling him tense and shake each time I pass over it.
“O-oh, god,” Atlas moans, his heels digging even further into my back.
“You look so beautiful, my sweet little boy. When I fuck you like this, all soft and slow, it feels like I’m branding myself into your skin.
” I lick at his throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob with each harsh swallow.
“Do you think your body will taste like mine when I’m done?
Do you think you’ll ever belong to someone else? ”
“No,” he gasps, and I suck on his pulse point as he speaks. “No one else.”
“No one?” I repeat. “Are you mine, baby? Did I ruin you for anyone else the day that I came so deep inside of you?”
“Fuck, fuck! I’m going crazy, Julie!”
“Tell me,” I demand. “Did I?”
“Yes! You did. You r-ruined me.”
My heart is beating so loudly that I can barely hear his cries. He’s sobbing again, clinging to me and rolling his hips as he searches for more. I’m quite enjoying taking him like this, slow and soft and greedy. But I can feel it—how crazy he’s feeling.
Plus, he just told me that I own him. I might go crazy right alongside him.
I unhook my hands and instead wrap my arms around his waist, sitting back on my heels and pulling him onto my lap. I settle deep inside of him, far deeper than I ever have been, and Atlas cries out, falling limply on top of me.
He buries his face into my neck, his sobs muffled by my skin.
“That’s right, Young Master Atlas,” I tell him, enunciating his title with everything in me. “You’re all mine. You’re my sweet little bunny, my darling boy to love on and hold. No one else. Nothing else gets to have you. You hear me?”
“Mhm,” he murmurs, nodding against me.
“Good fucking boy.”
I’m panting with excitement. My dick is pulsing inside of him, reacting hungrily to each little quiver and tremble he gifts me. Atlas is so warm and wet, so soft and pliable that I might take a bite straight out of him.
His tears are soaking my skin, and I pull out just enough to slide one of my hands between us and grip the base of my shaft. I use the extra control and angle my hips, aiming right where I need to be.
Then, I drag myself right over his prostate once more, firmer this time, smacking straight into it as I push in and massaging it gently as I pull out just an inch or two.
“Uhhhh, ahhh.” Atlas shudders, his fingers digging into the sides of my neck as he convulses slightly.
There is not a moment, as I’m sliding in or pulling out, where I am not assaulting his prostate. It’s a calm, slow, torturous abuse that has him sinking his teeth into my trap. If I weren’t gripping the base of my cock so tightly, I’d probably blow right here, right now.
I drag my free hand up his back, taking the nape of his neck in my palm and gripping it just as roughly as I’m gripping myself.