6. SUNDAY — SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO #4
“Fuck, look at how greedy your hole is. Taking my cock and thumb up your ass at the same time. You look so fucking sexy stretched out for me, baby. Such a fucking slut for me. Like a good fucking boy.”
“Please,” Silas wept. He was slipping rapidly into a helpless, tear-soaked state. His body trembled under the weight of the belt and my sheer physical dominance. “Cal, I’m…I’m close, please.”
“Beg for it,” I whispered harshly.
“Cal!” he cried. Any other words cut off when I slammed in harder.
My free hand let go of his hip, curling in a punishing grip around his throbbing cock. With languid strokes, I aimed his head at the shiny gold centerpiece. “Ruin it!” Silas’s eyes flew open. “Cal, wait, n-no! Not on the—”
He didn't have a choice.
With a deafening and fractured cry, Silas broke.
He shot thick, hot ropes of cum all over the black and gold, completely desecrating the World Championship belt.
Sobs racked his body through the massive release, his muscles twitching uncontrollably as he painted his greatest career achievement with his own filthy mess.
When his body slumped, I shoved the ruined belt off of his chest and to the floor with a loud clatter. I wasted no time as my balls pulled up tight, my own imposing orgasm not far behind.
Completely unleashed, I fucked his ass harder than I ever had in my entire life.
The heavy wooden bed frame slammed violently against the hotel wall in a frantic, deafening rhythm.
The sound of wet flesh aggressively slapping a loud echo throughout the room.
Silas cried out with every devastating impact of my hips, taking the absolute hardest pounding of his life while still coming down from his own overwhelming high.
“Fuck, Si!” I roared as my climax ripped through me. I came with a blinding, full-body shudder, emptying my hot, pulsing ropes deep inside his ass.
I collapsed against his broad chest, both of us drenched in sweat and fighting for oxygen. When I finally found the strength to pull out, Silas whimpered while I knelt between his still-shaking thighs.
My cum was already pooling around his red, swollen, and wrecked hole, slowly leaking out of him and sliding down his crease. It was the most beautiful, erotic, and possessive sight in the world, and I wasn't going to let a single drop of it be wasted.
“I want you to keep my cum inside,” I murmured darkly.
I reached down, scooped up the leaking, pearlescent fluid with two fingers, and shoved them brutally deep back inside his hole, pushing my cum as far back into his body as I could reach. Silas let out a high-pitched, breathy whine, and trembled uncontrollably as my fingers forcefully corked him.
Withdrawing, I stood up and picked the cum-stained Championship belt up off the floor.
I tossed it onto Silas’s bare chest, the heavy gold plates landing squarely over his racing heart.
Silas gasped at the cold weight, still flustered as he gazed upon the stark white streaks of his own cum.
It glistened against the metal and the dried flakes of our blood that still clung to the edges.
I grabbed my phone from my pants pocket, and straddled his hips again, sitting back just enough so my legs framed his waist. It kept our actual nudity out of the frame, but still perfectly captured his exhausted and flushed face, his bare chest, and the Championship resting on top of him.
His cum would just barely be noticeable to an untrained eye, a wet, shiny glisten on the leather that looked like it could be sweat or water, but we would know.
“Cal.” Silas slung arm over his flushed face, and peeked at me through the crook of his elbow. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Capturing a memory,” I hummed, my dry, sarcastic humor filtering right back into my chest as my breathing leveled out.
With a coy smirk, I looked over the phone's edge. “Corporate said they needed updated, candid headshots of the new champion for the promotional posters. Figured I’d save the photography department some time.”
Silas let out a wet, exhausted bark of laughter and dropped his arm. “You’re a sick bastard.”
“You’re filled with my cum and covered in our sweat, Si. It’s a masterpiece.”
After tossing the phone aside, I lay down on my side, pulling his heavy, sweat-slicked body directly against mine. Silas’s arm weakly wrapped around my back, his fingers tangling in my damp hair, soft tears of pure catharsis still tracking down his cheeks.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” he whispered breathlessly, his voice thick and slurred.
“I know I am.” I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the bruises on his neck, my thumb lazily tracing the muscles of his chest. “But tomorrow, you’re taking a toothbrush to that belt.
As much as I love seeing your mess splattered across your greatest achievement, Creative needs you to carry that down to the ring at eight o’clock tomorrow night. ”
Silas let out a muffled and exhausted groan before tangling his legs with mine. “You’re ruining my moment, Kincaid.”