Atticus
CAMERON GASPS, HIS HOT breath landing against the side of my face like a satisfying drug hit. The soft whimpering noises he’s making must be subconscious, because they hardly stop.
And it’s addictive. It’s intoxicating.
Almost as overwhelming as the sight of his soft, submissive eyes as he drank my come, swallowing me down so easily. If he weren’t so easily startled, I would think he was lying about being new to sucking cock, but the way he seemed so hesitant at first makes me believe his claim.
Now that he has, now that I’ve marked the deepest depths of his body, I want to give him something in return. Something that might clear up his confusion about his attraction to men—he clearly has some denial thing going on.
I’m going to finger his prostate until he’s sobbing, then I’m going to have him come all over himself so he’s forced to remember it for all of eternity.
Then, he’ll be mine. All. Mine. To control, to guide, to protect.
“Turn,” I repeat, releasing his thick shaft. “Hands on the tree, sweetheart. If you listen well, I’ll let you finish.”
With minimal hesitation, Cameron does, his muscular body tense with conflict and his throat working around the undoubtedly distracting soreness coursing through it.
Palms flat against the trunk of the closest tree and his legs shoulder-width apart, he waits. And I stare.
I stare at his trembling shoulders, his defined back, and the sculpted globes of his ass. Cameron might be shorter than me, and sure, I’m not scrawny or anything, but he has much more muscle than I do. Probably because his shorter frame has a harder time distributing the thick bunches.
I want to bite into them, to feel them work around the pointed ends of my teeth. I want him screaming.
With no patience to spare, I yank his shorts and his underwear down, letting them fall to his ankles before I nudge his feet, spreading his legs as far as the clothing will allow.
Cameron gasps, his fingers digging into the rough bark beneath them.
“W-what…” he stutters out, but doesn’t finish. He knows what; he just doesn’t want to admit to wanting it.
No problem here; I’ll show him how desperate he can be. I’ll make the choice for him.
I place a hand on the tree, my arm caging his head as I use my other hand to reach around and swipe the come he couldn’t swallow from his chin. I doubt he even noticed it was there.
“I’m going to mark you somewhere else,” I murmur into his ear, feeling his responding shudder. “I’m going to stuff your hole with my come until you explode.”
“Atticus,” he moans, dirty and desperate. And then, as he gathers himself slightly, “Are you sure this is okay?”
I kind of want to laugh. He’s acting as if blowing a guy is any less gay than being fingered by one.
“Depends. Do you mean okay as in will it feel good? Because I promise you’ll be screaming my name before I’m done with you.” I pause, letting him sit on that for a moment. And as he gasps, tearing the bark apart with his fingertips, I continue. “Or do you mean morally?”
Cameron freezes, his legs locking. But I have no plans to let him dwell on his own fears.
“Morally,” I continue, “the only crime here would be letting you walk away hard and wanting. It would be so terribly wrong not to make you feel as good as you made me feel. To deny both of us this experience.”
This seems to calm him. Cameron relaxes, his breathing still punching out of him in heavy pants, but his fingers loosening their hold.
“O-okay,” he finally concedes.
“Now relax, sweetheart,” I command. “I’m going to wreck you so nicely.”
With my fingers still coated in my own release, I grab his left cheek with the other, pulling it to the side and revealing his tight, pink hole.
He looks fucking delicious. Untouched. So hot and forbidden that I’m going crazy with the need to feel inside. So I do.
I tighten my grip to the point of bruising, dragging a come-covered finger over his rim and circling it several times. Cameron makes a low, whining noise, his elbows locking as his head falls between his shoulders.
I do this until he’s warm and soft, panting slightly. Then, I shove the tip in.
“O-oh, fuck,” Cameron chokes out, his body tensing.
“Shh, relax for me. Let me in; I know you want to.” My words soothe him, just as I knew they would, and Cameron relaxes just slightly.
As I push in to my first knuckle, I release his cheek and slide my arm around his waist, rubbing my fingertips over his pebbled nipples under his hoodie. I’m sure he must be a bit cold, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“There you go,” I praise gently. “Just breathe.”
He takes a large inhale, shuddering with need and tension as he listens so beautifully. You’d think taking a finger in the ass would be easier than deep throating, but Cameron seems to believe the opposite.
As I slide my finger in the rest of the way, he cries out, head tilting forward to rest against the tree trunk. I move it slowly, in and out, feeling the tight, velvety walls of his ass squeeze me relentlessly.
The thought of sticking my cock inside and getting strangled mercilessly has me panting, my length wanting to harden again already. I drape my chest over his back, slowly pumping in and out of him.
“How does it feel, baby? Do you like feeling full?” I ask.
Honestly, I feel a little nervous about his answer. While I’m certain that I’m reading him correctly, the idea that he isn’t into this is making me kind of panicky. If I never get the chance to fuck him, I might freak out. I might need to add a punching bag to my room so that I can—
“Y-yes,” Cameron gasps. “Faster.”
Oh, god. My entire body lights up, my nerve endings tingling at his soft command. I immediately pick up the pace, plunging into him repeatedly. Cameron chokes on a groan, his body tensing and untensing around me.
“Now,” I begin, attempting to hide my own desperation. “Let’s find it.”
“Find it?” he mumbles, and it’s so cute and curious that I want to crack open and unleash myself on him completely.
Not yet. Someday.
Instead, I hook my finger and scrape his walls, twisting and turning each time I retract and rubbing as I push back in. And finally, after a few attempts, I find it. Nestled deep inside, swollen and begging for attention, I rub against his prostate.
“Atticus!” Cameron shouts, his ass pushing back against my finger desperately.
I can see something dripping from between his legs, and I’m almost certain of what it is. He’s loving this.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck my finger. Take your reward.” My words only spur him on, and he shamelessly shoves back onto me, panting and groaning each time I drag over his prostate.
But he can take more. This man is built like a gym god yet acts like a scared puppy, and I know he wants more. He wants to be full.
I spit directly onto his hole, causing him to gasp, and add a second finger.
“G-god!” Cameron cries, arching his back as he bends further, being crushed under the weight of his pleasure.
“You’re so tight,” I tell him. “Squeezing my fingers like you’re trying to consume them. Such a greedy hole.”
“P-please,” he begs, jolting as I hit that spot inside of him with both fingers.
“I know, baby. I hear you,” I promise, moving faster. Fucking him harder.
Something hurt him. I’m not sure if it was his own mind, a literal person, or something else entirely, but when I found him amongst these trees, he looked seconds away from falling apart.
And now, with my fingers up his ass and my come in his stomach, he’s falling apart in a much more pleasurable way. All because of me. Because I am the one who gets the thrill of protecting and guiding him.
“Want to come, Cam?” I ask, voice placating and gentle. “Want me to finger fuck an orgasm out of you?”
“Yes,” he cries. “Please. I-I need to come. Too much.”
I’m nailing his prostate over and over again, stretching him in a way he never has been before, and it’s driving him crazy.
Which, of course, means I’m going crazy too.
I drag my hand down from where I was brushing his nipples and take his hard cock in hand, feeling the thick length of it and how incredibly wet he is. With firm, steady strokes, I attack him from both sides.
“Tell me. Tell me how good you feel,” I command, my own control slipping away by the second.
“S-so good,” he admits. “Gonna… I’m gonna come.”
“Go ahead, baby. Come for me. Give it to me.” I press open-mouthed kisses to the nape of his neck, breathing in the delicious scent of him as he shudders and bucks into my fist, only to throw his ass back onto my fingers.
And I can feel it—his impending release. His cock is throbbing, pulsing in my hand, and his hole is clenching around me so nicely that I just know he’s about to explode.
But I need to see it. I need to see his face as he falls apart completely.
Without a second thought, I pull my fingers from his ass, ignoring his cry of protest, and spin him around. His back hits the tree, and I grab the hem of his hoodie, shoving it into his mouth.
“Need to see,” I tell him. “Need to watch it.”
He cries into the fabric between his teeth, and I slip one hand between his thighs, burying my fingers back into the tight heat of him, my other hand gripping and rubbing his cock raw.
He’s sobbing, just as I wanted. Tears pour from his eyes as endless, desperate sounds are muffled by his stuffed mouth. His blond hair is matted to his forehead, wide gray eyes watching me with so much desperation it hurts.
And I can feel it the moment I tag his prostate again, his thighs shaking and his hole clamping down. His dick pulses once more, and his hands shoot out to grip painfully at my biceps.
“Go on,” I tell him, staring into his eyes with desperation to match his. “Come. Now, Cameron.”
And he does. He explodes in my hand, spurts of come landing on his stomach and covering my fist as I work him relentlessly.
I stroke him rough and fast, fucking into his ass without a care. He’s trembling, tears soaking his hoodie.
Cameron looks like art. He looks like mine.