Milo #2
Jasper’s nose brushed across my cheek as he inhaled deeply, and he pressed a kiss to my cheek. And then another, and another. He worked his way to the tip of my nose, and I squirmed under him, gently shoving his chest.
“What are you doing now?” I huffed.
“I love your freckles, too.” His voice was a mere whisper against my skin.
There wasn’t much more I could take. I covered his mouth with my hand, desperately trying to fight off the telltale sign of pins and needles pricking at my eyes.
But he was relentless, prying my hand away and kissing my fingertips one by one, his eyes fluttering shut like he was savouring every press of my skin to his lips.
My limbs were weak, his words and touch pulling the fight right out of me.
He squeezed my hand in his, and I stared down at them, too bewildered by what was happening to realize I was crying again until I felt his tongue dragging up the wet track of my cheek.
He stopped at the corner of my eye and placed a kiss there too, and it felt like I was fucking dying.
“You’re killing me,” I croaked.
“Good,” he said. “I bet you think dying in my arms would be romantic anyway.”
A little bit of pressure escaped through the gentle ribbing, a mangled laugh escaping me.
When he pulled back again, my insides flipped. I went from wanting him to stop to being filled with dread the moment he put some distance between us. I wanted to tell him to come back, to kiss me more, that I was just being dramatic, and I wasn’t really dying. I could handle it.
“Wait—”
His head dipped back down between my legs, slow and deliberate.
My heart lodged itself in my throat all over again, my body humming with anticipation—wanting more—always more.
His mouth moved unhurriedly along the crease where my thigh curved into my hips, every kiss more thoughtful than the last, like he had something to prove.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “I’m right here.”
I gasped as he grabbed my hips, his hands sliding under me to grab two handfuls of my ass, kneading my skin. His thumbs spread me apart, and I tensed, my back arching as his tongue circled my fluttering hole. This was new territory for me.
“Jasper—”
I heard him spit, his saliva trickling down my skin.
He scooped it up with his tongue and delved inside me, the wet muscle curling and stroking in ways that made my whole body shudder.
I choked on a moan, gripping the sheets, my eyes glued to him between my legs, my spent cock already half-hard again.
The more I squirmed, the harder his nails dug into my skin, holding me in place.
I was too impatient, too desperate. By the time he switched his tongue out to replace it with his fingers, the only thing I felt was mind-numbing relief.
I couldn’t be sure how many he’d used, maybe two, but my head was in the clouds.
I wanted him so badly that I couldn’t think straight, the one hand that remained on my hip the only thing keeping me present.
“That’s it, loverboy,” he soothed. “Let me take care of you.”
I whimpered when he eventually withdrew his fingers, watching in a daze as he shoved his pants and boxers down to his knees. The sight of his cock nearly winded me every time—so perfect, and so mine.
I shifted to try and get on my knees for him, but he was grabbing my legs again, my back hitting the bed as he cupped the underside of my thighs and dragged me closer.
“I want to watch you,” he said, his breathing laboured.
For once, I didn’t even try to fight it.
“Okay.”
I wanted to watch him, too.
Jasper pushed my legs up, practically folding me in half as he leaned over me.
He rolled his hips slowly, the head of his cock snagging on my hole over and over again.
Then he stilled, pressing his forehead to mine and taking a moment to breathe me in.
He looked tortured, like taking his time with it was as hard for him as it was for me.
“I can’t live without you.” His words pierced me like hot iron. “If you kill yourself, you’re killing me, too.”
A sob tore up my throat.
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is abandoning me.”
I wasn’t trying to leave him all alone. But I wouldn’t take back what I did, even if I could, because without it, I might never be in this moment with him. I would have kept filling the void with things that never measured up to what he gave me.
Things that weren’t him.
He pressed forward, my legs aching and trembling as he held them, pushing me deeper into the bed. Every inch of him was a punishment and a reward wrapped into one. He peppered my cheeks with tender kisses, lips wet with my tears, until I was full of him.
“Fuck, Milo.” He hissed through clenched teeth.
He pulled back slowly, squeezing my thighs like a lifeline as every single one of my muscles clenched around his length until there was barely anything left of him. My insides pulsed and rippled with heat as he drove back into me, the angle allowing him so deep that my vision blurred at the edges.
“Jasper.” My throat was absolutely raw.
“Keep saying my name.”
The pace he set was torturous. Each time I called his name, he seemed to stall, like hearing it was going to be his final straw. I could feel it, too, the way his dick throbbed, barely managing to keep himself from falling apart.
Making him lose control made me feel good.
“Come for me,” I begged. “Please.”
And he obliged.
Jasper lost the careful rhythm he’d been holding onto, every snap of his hips bringing him back home, back to me. I drank in every twitch of muscle on his face, breathed in every breath like it was my own, utterly transfixed.
He kissed me when he came. It was sloppy, uncoordinated, and my lungs felt like they were being crushed—but I didn’t complain. I was too focused on the feeling of fullness as he spilled into me, his body going rigid before collapsing forward. He let my legs down slowly, but never left me.
I slid my hand under the back of his shirt, trailing my fingers up the length of his spine. His back carried both our weight, held all our burdens, and never seemed to break.
“Next time,” he said tiredly, pressing one last kiss to my lips. “If you want to die, take me with you.”
I grinned into it.
“Deal.”