AFTERGLOW #3
I don’t think I’m ever going to win these disputes against him when he swallows my arguments with his kisses.
Because Marcus doesn’t just kiss; he devours.
His mouth is greedy and commanding, like he’s determined to pry every secret that ever existed in my mouth, and there’s nothing to do but surrender to the heaven of being explored by him.
I mean, I could fight it, but why would I want to when it feels so good?
Marcus’s lips leave mine as he trails kisses down my neck and then back up towards my ear.
“Where is your mind?”
“Thinking about how good your kisses are,” I respond honestly, because I’m so fucking lit up from his kisses I can hardly think straight.
“Hmm,” he murmurs with a hint of disappointment. “I think I need to up my game.”
“Why? It was a compliment,” I point out, a little confused at his response.
“Yeah, but I want them so good you can’t think about them; you can only feel them,” he murmurs before leaning in and capturing my mouth again.
This time there’s no urgency, no desperation. Instead, it’s steady, slow, exploratory. It’s the kind of kiss that carries more emotion than lust, and just as he wanted, it drives thoughts out of my head. Nothing exists beyond the way his lips move against mine and the way our tongues wrestle.
The more he kisses me, the more I melt into him. His body is pressed up against mine, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, dick to cock, and it’s the greatest sensation I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve had a lot of sex, but this is a different level.
This isn’t lusty teenagers fumbling through new territory, or emotionless hook-ups to scratch an itch.
This is deeper than anything I’ve experienced.
It seeps into my bones so deep I can feel it in my soul.
It’s profound, and we haven’t even fucked yet.
It’s almost terrifying to imagine how deep that experience will be with him when a blow job and a bit of rutting against each other is all it takes to blow every other sexual experience I’ve ever had right out of my head.
My arms are coiled around his neck, my lips meeting his kiss for kiss, beat for beat. I don’t want to just passively accept what he’s offering with his hot as fuck kisses; I want to come to the table and meet each term with an equal reciprocation of my own.
His mouth travels from my lips, down my neck, across my face, and back to my lips, tasting as much of me as he can in the position we’re in.
My dick is so hard it’s throbbing painfully against his as he ruts against me, seeking enough friction to send us both over the edge, but it’s not enough.
Marcus must realize that just a beat before I do, because no sooner does the thought cross my mind than he reaches behind us for a bottle of something that smells a lot like lotion. He douses his hand in the stuff before reaching between us and gripping both of us in his fist.
An overwhelmed whimper bursts out of me at the heady sensation. His cock is slightly bigger than mine, and it lines up to where the flare of his head presses into the tip of mine, and it creates a toe-curling kind of pressure.
I'm not the only one drowning in the heady sensation, though, because Marcus breaks away from our kiss and buries his cheek against my neck with a deep growl.
"Fuck, you’re perfect," he praises into my skin with a mixture of ecstasy and worship that's almost as visceral as the steady rhythm his hand is pumping us to.
Everything is too good, too much, and I can't stop the low cry of his name from escaping my mouth.
Not that I'd really tried, or even wanted to try to stop it.
He's a cocky pain in the ass, but he's my cocky pain in the ass, and he deserves to know what he's doing to me when he's doing it so goddammed well.
"That’s right, Qiang. Say my name, just like that," he mewls in my ear before nipping the lobe.
My fingers tighten around him, holding on for dear life while he tears me apart with each word of praise and each slick glide of his hand around our cocks.
"You feel so fucking good, pretty," he purrs in my ear before pulling my face towards his and devouring my mouth.
His lips cover mine, with his tongue invading my mouth zealously, taking no prisoners, just capturing my soul completely.
Everything pulls into a low boil, and my body falls more under his control than mine. My spine tingles, and I'm so fucking close.
"Ah-please," I cry out, needing just that touch bit more to barrel me over.
Marcus's eyes snap to mine. They are bloodshot and dilated with so much lust and need, I don't know how he's holding on.
It's ridiculous how fucking sexy he is. Everything about him oozes sensuality from his voice to his looks to the way he teases, right down to the way he fucking breathes.
It's like he's the living embodiment of a sex god or something.
"You close? You gonna come with me, Qiang?" he purrs, his eyes holding mine with a mixture of smug and desperate, a tandem of falling apart with me and knowing I'm falling apart with him.
It's amazing how ridiculously out of touch I've been for not recognizing the raw messages his eyes have always been sending me. Everything I’d ever needed to know has always been right here, and now that I know what it looks like, it's glaringly obvious, and I should have always seen this and never doubted it.
But all of that flits away when his hand shifts to curl around our heads with each upstroke, increasing the toe-curling sensation of his dick pressed against mine.
It’s the exact pressure I needed to tip me over the edge.
It takes only a few more strokes before I cry out a "Fuck, yes," while my body breaks loose and I tumble into perfect oblivion.
Marcus’s eyes widen for a millisecond when the first spurt of my cum lands on the head of his cock, before his joins mine. His body convulses, and a stunted grunt of my name breaks its way out of his mouth while he topples over the edge with me.
It takes several moments of clinging to each other before any semblance of thought or reasoning enters my brain, and the first thought is how much I hate that once we leave this bathroom, I won’t have time alone with him again until tomorrow.
I want to curl up with him all day and explore every facet of him and of us, but no, it’s showers and buses, games and responsibilities, before we have another chance at this.
“I want tomorrow,” I pout, knowing it’s completely irrational to be sulking right after what was arguably the best orgasm of my life.
“Tomorrow?” he asks, his hazy eyes meeting mine with confusion.
I nod, making sure my bottom lip is fully puffed out and doing its job properly for maximum sympathy here.
“Football gets you today, but I want you tomorrow.”
A bright smile lights up his face when he realizes what it is I’m asking for. Time, time with him, just us, and his handsome smile has my pout falling away without my permission.
“All day, Qiang. As soon as I get off the bus tomorrow morning, I’m undividedly yours.”
I lean in and nudge my nose against his. “Promise?”
Marcus just chuckles before lifting me effortlessly in the air and carrying me into the shower.
“I promise, pretty, I’m all yours,” he breathes.
He balances my weight between the cool shower tiles and one hand while he reaches over and turns the shower on, drenching us both in icy water that quickly warms up before the chill can set in.
“I’ll forget how to walk if you keep carrying me everywhere,” I huff in mock annoyance.
“I’m okay with that,” Marcus chuckles teasingly in my ear.
“Marcus–” I hiss before he interrupts me with a sharp bark of laughter.
“You love it,” he laughs before kissing me to keep me from arguing further.
It’s not like he’s wrong. I’m just not used to being plucked up and carried around like I weigh nothing, but the more he does it, the more into it I’m getting.
With promises of more time with him tomorrow, I feel like I might make it through letting him get on a bus without me becoming the full-on petulant brat I know I can be.
Not that Marcus needs to know how fully aware of my brattiness I am, or even how possessively addicted to him I already am, for that matter.