17. Code Fate
Chapter Seventeen
Code Fate
DYLAN
Code fate. Code fate.
I had Miles lying down naked on a table, ready to be squeezed and touched and rubbed with my hands. I had no idea on how to give a proper massage but seeing Miles with his perfect ass laid out for me like a personal buffet had all thoughts of proper flying out the window.
He was fucking perfect. He had freckles across his shoulders, a couple of them traveling down his broad and muscular back.
He had a little furry trail that started at the small of his back and went down over his ass, dusting him with the perfect amount of dark hair.
His legs were spread and his cock—already hard, fucking hell—pushed between them.
I had no idea where to start. Guess the neck and shoulders would be as good a place as any.
I moved to the edge of the table, aware that if I got any closer then my bulge would be pressed up against his head.
I didn’t think he would complain about that, but I wanted to get at least a little bit of the massage done before I started following the feral instincts that howled inside me.
He had kept his jewelry on. A gold hoop at the top of his ear matched a small gold ring at the bottom.
His bracelet shone against his tan skin.
This close, I could see that it had a subtle texture giving the metallic band a swirling effect, almost like it was made of gold mixed with smooth marble.
I rubbed his biceps first and moved up to his shoulders.
“How’s this pressure?” I asked, trying to cosplay a professional massage therapist as best as I could.
“You can go a little harder.”
“Oh yeah?” I massaged his shoulders with a firm grip, digging my fingers in, rubbing my thumbs up the side of his neck. My eyes went to his cock which pulsed against the table. I could see a dark stain spreading out on the white sheets from how much he was already leaking.
It matched the growing wet sensation I could feel dripping down my thigh.
“And the oil’s over there.” He moved his hand and pointed at the small cabinet.
I opened the drawer, pulling out the clear bottle of massage oil.
The sound of the cap clicking open seemed to echo throughout the charged room.
Miles told his smart speakers to play some relaxing music, which helped me feel more comfortable.
I was convinced he could hear my heart racing.
Why the hell was I so nervous? I felt like a fucking virgin all over again. I was hyperaware of the way my body reacted to his. I was glad he was face down because that meant I could feast on him with my eyes.
I squirted some oil in my palms and walked back to the table, warming it with my hands before rubbing the oil into his back.
Then I traced the lines of his shoulder blades with my knuckles, finding the tense and knotted muscles close to his spine.
I pushed down and kneaded out, my skin sliding against his.
I could count the freckles that dotted his back, and wanted to kiss each one of them, trace them with my tongue.
“That feels so good,” Miles said. His voice sounded like he was ten seconds away from melting. It had that calm and nearly asleep tone to it, although judging by how rock-hard his cock was, he certainly wasn’t thinking about sleep.
I leaned forward, rubbing down to his lower back. This put my crotch directly against his head. I decided not to be shy about it. In this moment, I felt like connecting to Miles in a way that transcended a simple massage or a quick hookup. He moaned as my hands reached his ass.
I massaged my way back up his back. He lifted his head. “You can get comfortable too. I don’t mind.”
That was all I needed. No more encouragement was required. I took a step back and pulled my shirt over my head. I threw it on the couch, my shorts quickly following. I hesitated for a moment as my fingers floated over the waistband of my tight, wet Calvin Klein briefs.
This felt like a moment that marked a crossroads.
We weren’t at some party in a friend’s bathroom, we weren’t at a park, on edge that someone might see us.
We were inside Miles’ home, in a space he described as a sanctuary, and I had his naked body ready to be rubbed all over.
But I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop there, and I had a feeling Miles thought the same.
I pulled off my underwear and stepped back to the table.
This time I moved to his side and started massaging his left hand.
I flexed his fingers and dug into the fatty parts of his palm, which earned several satisfying moans.
Then I worked my way up. I didn’t hide how turned on this made me.
I had no doubt he could feel it with the way I dripped up his forearm.
After massaging his bicep, I moved to his other side and did the same thing.
This time, his hand closed around my cock.
I stilled, my legs tensing at the immense pleasure I received from his touch. He started to stroke, slowly.
I resumed my job, leaning over and massaging the round globes of muscle that had my attention fixed.
My pleasure consumed me, coursing up from my stiff cock.
I wanted to give him the same. I trailed my fingers over his balls, down his shaft, rubbing at his dripping head.
I coated my fingers in it before trailing back up, pressing my wet fingers down between his ass cheeks.
He stopped stroking and leaned up the moment I found his hole. “Oh fuck,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.
“Is this okay?”
“More than okay.”
“Do you like to bottom?” I asked, not sure if this was even on the menu tonight.
“Not for everyone. But for you, I want to.”
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, arching his back and pushing his ass onto my hand, my finger slipping inside his tight, hot hole.
I sucked in a breath, finding so much ecstasy in being inside of Miles like this.
I moved closer and slipped my finger in deeper.
His body clenched around me. He didn’t need to use words for me to know he wanted more.
I went deeper and rubbed, finding his swollen prostate and earning another loud, chesty groan.
“Fuck, Dyl, that feels so good. Fuuuuck.”
I teased another finger. “Can you take more?”
“Let me show you how much I can take.”
He pushed back again and my finger slid right inside.
The fire inside my body roared like a hungry lion.
My skin flushed red. I fingered him, moving so that I stood behind him, spreading him open with my free hand.
He started to bounce back on my hand, his massage table soaked through with how much he dripped.
His moans became louder, matching mine. The view was unmatched.
I’d never seen a hotter man who was literally in the palm of my hand.
He slowed down and then leaned forward, pulling off of me. He leaned up on his forearms, his back perfectly arched, his fuzzy, fat ass spread. “Fuck me, Dylan. Get on this table and fuck me.”
This was that crossroad moment I’d sensed earlier. No coming back.
No second-guessing, either.
I listened to him, trusting that the table would hold both our weight.
I got on my knees and lined myself up with Miles.
His hole was already worked and relaxed, ready to take me.
I gave my cock a couple of wet strokes, getting myself lubed up with precum, before pressing up against his entrance.
I gripped his hips and—as badly as I wanted to bury myself inside him with one thrust—slowly sank inside.
“Ooohh fuck,” we both hissed out in unison as Miles took me in.
The heat was intense, the tightness was perfect, his softness was velvet.
But the closeness I felt with him in that moment superseded everything else.
I took my time, inch by inch. Asking if he was okay, encouraged by him saying that he was more than fine. Still, I didn’t want to hurt him. I also didn’t want this to be over too soon. And judging by how close I already was, that wish would be the hardest to accomplish.
Being around Miles was a constant edging experience.
The second I’d scent him across the room, my thoughts would home in on picturing this very moment.
I’d stand there in practice or in the training room, feeling my balls becoming full from just the very idea of fucking him.
I was a vers so I was a Swiss Army knife in the bedroom.
I wanted him to fuck me eventually, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t looking forward to this the most.
I increased my speed when I was sure it was pleasurable for him and not painful. We found a rhythm together. I glided in and out of him, my balls tightening. He jerked himself off, encouraging me to fuck him harder, his words almost drowned out by the sound of my skin slapping against his.
I drilled into him. The table shook with each thrust but didn’t seem in danger of collapsing.
A popular but older alternative pop song played through the speakers.
Lyrics I wasn’t able to focus on. I could feel my body being pushed to the edge of the cliff.
I wanted to breed him. Wanted to fill him up with my cum.
“I’m getting close,” I warned. There was no holding this one back. No prolonging it.
“So am I. Holy fuck. Right there.”
“Where do you want me to come?” I asked. Decadent licks of flame expanded inside my core. I was seconds away from finishing.
Miles dropped his head. “Inside me,” he moaned. “Come inside me.”
I fucked him harder, thrust into him, buried down to my balls. His inner walls pulsed and tightened around me as he came all over the table, his back arching even further and his free hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles pale.
Leaning forward with a shout, I emptied inside him. His body continued to milk me as his orgasm crashed with mine. A tidal wave of pleasure washed over me, putting out the fires that had been working hard to turn me to ash.