20. Daniil #2
I pout because I wanted him to fuck me, but the wet heat surrounding my cock obliterates any complaint before I can voice it.
I thrust into him, and he takes me deeper, his tongue sliding along my length as pressure builds fast at the base of my spine.
My cock swells, and within minutes I’m coming, spilling down his throat.
He swallows some of it, but I can see his cheeks staying full, holding the rest.
He pulls off and stands immediately, shoving his pants down before spinning me back around to face the sink.
Warmth drips onto my hole, and I gasp, realizing he’s letting my cum fall from his lips directly onto my entrance.
He pushes a finger inside me, and I moan, bracing myself against the sink as my legs shake.
“Oh fuck,” I breathe, watching him in the mirror.
He spits more cum onto my hole, letting it pool there in thick drops before working another finger into me alongside the first. The slide is messy and wet, my own cum making everything slick as he stretches me open.
He adds a third finger and scissors them wide, the burn intense enough to make me gasp and tighten my grip on the sink until my knuckles go white.
He pulls his fingers out slowly, and I whine at the emptiness, but then his hands grip my ass and spread me wide open. The stretch exposes me completely, vulnerable and open for him.
He leans down and his breath ghosts over my exposed entrance before his tongue presses flat against me.
Then he spits cum directly into my gaping hole and warmth slides inside, coating my walls.
It’s filthy and perfect and makes me moan helplessly.
He keeps me spread impossibly wide with his thumbs while his tongue follows, licking into me and pushing the cum deeper.
The sensation of his tongue fucking my own cum into me makes me shudder, my cock already twitching back to hardness despite having just come. He works his tongue deeper, thorough and relentless, making sure every drop gets inside me and mixes with his spit.
When he finally pulls back, he keeps me spread open, and I know he’s watching my hole clench around nothing, admiring my own cum inside me. He works two fingers back in and spreads them deliberately, pushing the cum deeper and coating my walls thoroughly.
“Tak krasivo,” he murmurs. So beautiful.
He pulls his fingers out and slicks up his cock with what’s left on his hand, then positions himself at my hole. “Ready for me?”
“Please.”
He thrusts into me in one brutal go, and I moan loud enough that his hand immediately clamps over my mouth. The stretch burns, but the slide is smooth from my own cum, and he doesn’t give me time to adjust before he starts thrusting.
“You’re so tight,” he says, his breath hot against my ear. “You love this, don’t you? Being fucked by your own mess.”
“Fuck yes. Harder,” I groan into his palm, and he curses, gripping my waist with his other hand and pounding into me. The pace is brutal, the sound of his balls slapping against me filling the small bathroom. My cock is fully hard again, bouncing with each thrust, leaking onto the sink.
“You undo me. You’re so desperate for my cock you can’t even wait until we get home.”
Whimpering into his palm, I push back to meet his thrusts. He angles his hips and hits my prostate dead-on, making my vision blur. My cock throbs and I’m so close already, the filthiness of it all pushing me toward the edge faster than I can control.
“Look at yourself,” he says, forcing my head up so I have to meet my eyes in the mirror. “Look at how wrecked you are on my cock. Drooling into my hand, your own cum dripping out of you while I fuck you open.”
I moan, and my eyes roll back, the image of us reflected in the mirror burned into my brain. His hand is still clamped over my mouth, and his other hand reaches around to wrap around my cock. He strokes me rough and fast, matching the brutal pace of his thrusts.
“Come for me again,” he demands.
A few more strokes and I’m coming again, spilling over his hand and the sink while my hole clenches around him.
He buries himself deep and grinds against me as his own orgasm hits, filling me up with his cum mixed with mine.
We’re both shaking, gasping for air, and he doesn’t pull out until the last aftershock fades.
He removes his hand from my mouth, and I sag against the sink, completely spent. We’re still catching our breath when we hear voices getting closer outside the bathroom.
We pull apart so fast we almost stumble over each other, frantically yanking our pants up and trying to make ourselves look presentable. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while Mikhail tucks his shirt back in, and we unlock the door and slip out as casually as we can manage.
We’re barely past the stairs when we walk straight into Yulian. He looks us over, pulls his brows together, and shakes his head. “Come back to the couch. We have more to talk about.”
We exchange a look before following after him and settling onto the couch. Mikhail’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, glancing at the screen before angling it toward me so I can read the text.
Vincent:
Meet me at the arena tomorrow around noon. Don’t be late, this is important.
Why would Vincent reach out now?
He shrugs. “Can you come with me? I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just about the viral video from my last fight or something.”
“Of course,” I whisper.
Something feels off. Vincent doesn’t waste time on old news, and “important” doesn’t sound casual.