Milo #2
Heat crept up my neck fast and flooded my cheeks.
I gave him the smallest of nods, my lashes fluttering wildly as I tried to look up at him.
Even with his hair falling over the rim of his glasses and obscuring his eyes, I could tell that the admission pleased him.
The corner of his lips curved, absolutely sinister.
I wanted to touch myself right then, ached to get even the tiniest crumb of relief. My movements were clumsy as I tried to make a move to relieve some of the pressure with my uninjured hand, but Jasper squeezed my jaw with one hand, the other grabbing my wrist and yanking it away.
“Please.” My voice wavered. “It hurts.”
He tilted his head and leaned next to my ear. “It’s supposed to.”
Jasper bit me again, this time on the shell of my ear. I cried out, my hips jerking forward in search of something to grind against. My cock brushed against the cushions, and it felt good, so good that I’d started rocking into it, shuddering each time I made contact.
Jasper released my wrist and grabbed my hip, his fingernails digging into my skin, squeezing. His messy hand slid across my stomach, dipping lower and stroking over my cock just once. I nearly exploded from the fleeting contact.
“I want… I want—”
“I can’t hear you.” He shifted on his feet behind me, both hands moving to press into my back, bending me over until my face was in the cushions again. “What was that?”
“Touch,” I rasped. “Touch me. Fuck me.”
A sharp crack filled the air, my jaw slackening, mouth hanging wide open. I was too stunned to make a noise as I processed that he’d struck the side of my ass with an open hand. It stung, but the pain bloomed into pleasure, my cock throbbing and leaking.
His palm smoothed over my tender skin, his voice low, almost hesitant. “What are you going to do the next time you feel like hurting yourself?”
“Come to you?”
“That’s right,” he murmured. “Always come to me.”
Finally, he touched me again. He was so warm against me, his clean hand moving to cover mine, our fingers intertwining as they dug into the sofa. I moaned and bucked my hips when his messy one found my cock again and started all over, pumping me harder and faster than before.
“You’re so wet for me already,” he rumbled with satisfaction, the vibration from his chest bleeding into my back.
I was filthy. Everywhere he’d touched was sticky with a combination of gore and evidence of my pleasure.
He moved with ease, slippery with precum, up and down my shaft over and over again until I was nearly seeing white.
I tried to think of something else, anything else to keep me from finishing too early and losing the high I was riding.
But I didn’t have to. Just before I lost myself, he pulled back. There was no time to mourn the loss this time as his slick index finger dipped into the cleft of my ass, and he drew agonizing little circles around the untouched, tight ring of muscle.
“Plea—Fuck!” I cursed as he slammed knuckle-deep inside of me.
My body’s first instinct was to pull away, the burn rocking my senses. Between Jasper and the couch, there was nowhere for me to go. I whimpered as he began to pump that finger in and out, the ache softening into pleasure that made my whole body throb.
I didn’t want to stop him; I wanted him deeper.
“If you don’t relax, you’re never going to be able to swallow my dick with this hole,” Jasper said, his voice low and rough.
“I can take more,” I rasped, squeezing our hands together tighter.
“Is that so?” he mused.
A second finger slid inside and stretched me wider, my muscles burning and quivering around them, unwilling to let go.
He curled them inside me just right, like he knew me inside and out, and sparks rocketed up my spine.
My cock pulsed and wept even more, hips jerking back into his touch even as tears began to blur my vision.
I felt so full, and I was still greedy for more.
“Are you always this loud, or is it just for me?” Jasper’s voice was smooth, nearly reverent.
“I’m not—” My protest unravelled into a cry, his calloused palm pressed firmly against my ass, stilling against the sweet spot inside of me.
“You’re not? So it is just for me,” he crooned.
He didn’t move, waiting for me to bite at the provocation. I rocked back and forth pleadingly, but no movement came. His laughter was deep and warm, followed by his teeth nipping at my shoulder.
“Stop teasing.” My voice cracked, and I wasn’t sure if it was a demand or a plea.
This time, it didn’t hurt. My knees instinctively spread wider, and I dipped further into the couch, succumbing to the fullness.
He had me stuffed full with three fingers, biting into the cushion to stifle the ungodly sounds that begged to be let out.
Every stroke and curve took me higher and higher, straight to the edge, to something sweeter than death.
“I guess I can give you what you need now,” he said, like he was doing me a favour, withdrawing completely and depriving me of my climax.
I was going to fucking cry.
Against my better judgment, I turned my head to look back at him, watching him smooth his bloody hand over his cock, wincing as he worked himself.
The streaks of red had worked their way down to his forearm, and all reason suggested I should tell him to pause and take care of his injury, but the sight of him flushed and bloody only made me need him with even more urgency.
When the blunt head of his cock kissed my skin, my world teetered on the edge of collapse. He nudged forward, and I was so open and ready that I swallowed the first inch with little resistance, forgetting how to breathe.
He sank deeper, and it stung. I tried to shuffle forward on the couch to escape the pain of being split open, but he grabbed my hips and held me steady.
I thought I couldn’t take any more, but I was wrong.
Another inch stretched me further than his fingers had been able to reach, and I was too shocked by the searing pain to do anything other than suck in a large gulp of air. It hurt so fucking good.
“Fuck,” Jasper groaned.
When he finally bottomed out, the pain subsided, leaving only the overwhelming sense of fullness. He stayed there, his nails digging into my hips and keeping me anchored to him. I wanted to stay suspended in the moment forever, to be kept like this—filled, owned, his.
He pulled all the way out, right to the tip, and on the way, every muscle screamed in protest. A sob broke out of me, sharp with fresh pain and dizzying heat. I didn’t want him to leave me. He couldn’t.
I screamed when he drove back inside, grabbing wildly at the cushions to prevent myself from shattering like glass. My cock slapped against my stomach from the impact, and I nearly came, blotches of colour exploding behind my eyelids.
He fucked me hard and slow, each thrust bringing me back to the edge I’d been dancing on earlier. The same messy hand that’d been stroking over his own length just moments earlier left my hip and wrapped around my cock, the angle imperfect and messy as he pumped me in a jagged rhythm.
“Remember how this feels.” He emphasized with a snap of his hips. “Remember who takes care of you.”
“Jasper—Fuck—I can’t…”
All I could manage was a string of curses and broken whimpers, his name falling from my lips between each thrust like a prayer, until I thought my voice might disappear altogether.
“You can,” he encouraged. “And you will.”
I tried. I tried so fucking hard to keep it together.
But he shifted, angling even deeper, driving into me even harder.
The cord of tension at the base of my spine finally snapped, my cock pulsating with the force of my release.
Jasper’s touch never faltered, only gentled, working me through each spurt of cum with sloppy strokes.
His thumb brushed over my overstimulated tip, and my limbs threatened to give out from how badly I was shaking.
I whined as he released my softening length and moved to my back, his warm hand sliding up my spine, bending me further in half until I was a panting mess in the cushions. He stopped at my shoulder, gripping it and dragging me into him over and over. I thought I was going to break.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Such a good boy.”
He buried himself to the hilt, the depth nearly knocking the wind out of me. His dick throbbed and spilled into me, flooding my insides with a thick heat that made me sob. He knelt between my legs on the couch and pressed me flush against it, and for what felt like a lifetime, neither of us moved.
I wanted to stay just like that—covered in each other’s blood, sweat, and cum.
I wanted him to be sick like me.