CHAPTER 26 #3
Carey kneels again and looms over me; empty and needy beneath him.
Mesmerized by the slow drag of his hand as he pumps his cock, my feet fall back to the bed.
“You look really fucking pretty, you know that?”
I stutter out, “Y-yes, Sir,” hoping it’s the answer he’s looking for.
“Who do you belong to?”
My eyes flutter and I clench around nothing. “You, Sir.”
His top lip raises; “Such a good little bitch,” and I feel my dick bounce against my stomach.
I want him back inside me. Tonight, tomorrow, and every day for the rest of my life.
Carey brings his dick back down to mine and holds us with one hand.
Heat floods my gut at how thick he feels against me.
As he moves they misalign slightly.
He spits again, the sound harsh in the quiet room.
The drag of his skin against mine is almost too much.
I stay as still as I can, but Carey’s hips continue to rock.
The sensitive head of my cock catches on the ridge of his and I can’t hold back the ragged sound that tears from my throat.
“Eyes.” His voice pierces me.
I force them up.
Moonlight cuts his cheekbones.
The closet light halos him.
That damn hair is in his face.
His grip is firm. There’s no mercy as his palm grinds the veins along my shaft against the heavier rope of his.
My thighs twitch.
I’m almost there.
He clenches my waist. “Still.”
I nod, jaw locked.
I’m ready to let go.
His features grow blurry.
“Don’t you dare fade.”
I blink, and through the misty fog, I focus as best I can.
“Good boy,” he praises, and I nearly lose all the ground I just gained. “You’re gonna come with your eyes on me.”
Jesus fucking Christ, nothing in my life has ever compared to this.
I force out a shuddery, “Yes, Sir,” and trade my gaze between the dominating hold of his eyes, and his hands.
Intoxicated, I watch as he jerks us both, faster and faster. His chest heaving, his face flushed and beautiful in the half-dark.
The sounds we’re making are obscene.
There’s no way anyone in the hall couldn’t hear.
“You’re gonna come now,” he says, his voice gone hoarse.
He pumps faster, harder, pressing his thumb into the spot just under the head.
I’m going to lose it.
I know it, and I want him to see it happen.
He drops his cock and wraps his full hand around me.
He leans forward to breathe into my ear, “You’re mine, Jeon Wootek. I want everyone to know it. I want you to come all over me. I want it so thick people will be able to smell you seeping from my pores."
"Eyes on me,” he says a final time before backing up to suck on the tip of my cock.
He cups my balls and I have to bite down on my fist to stop from screaming his name.
I come hard, and violent. It’s so strong my hips arch off the mattress but he holds me down, stroking until every last spurt is out and his face is striped with my cum.
Then he licks his lips, and stands on my bed.
With a foot either side of me, he towers above.
A giant.
My owner.
He grips his dick, his head falls back, and the denial of his eyes almost makes me come again, untouched.
He pumps furiously.
His hips jerk.
His stomach tightens.
The tendons in his forearm pop.
His free hand gropes at his upper thigh.
“Open,” he orders, not looking down.
My mouth gapes. My tongue stretches out over my bottom lip.
He groans. It’s primal, and vibrates right through me as hot strands of cum splatter my chest, throat, and cheek.
Some hits the corner of my mouth.
I lick it up and swallow it fast.
“Look at you,” Carey rasps as his hand slides one final, slow drag.
I don’t move.
The room smells of us.
He drops to his knees between my legs, and uses two fingers to smear everything higher until I feel him write his name in cum across my pecs.
He kisses me then scoops his seed from my cheek and pushes it between my lips. Eagerly I suck his fingers and his eyes light up with that mean little light I crave so much.
“Don’t clean yourself,” he says.
I nod; my voice broken, my tongue salty and dumb.
He drags his fingers through a stripe on my neck and I lick that clean too, eyes on him, because I can’t tear them away.
Carey lets out a pleased hum and wipes his hand on my stomach like a towel.
My pulse won’t slow.
The door is still unlatched.
We’re out of our fucking minds.
He leans over to plant his palm next to my head, his hair falling forward. “Even though you were a good boy, you’re still gonna sleep like this,” he tells me. “Marked. Mine.” Then he cups my face and kisses me. Slow, tasting himself.
He pulls back to study me, then smiles, satisfied that he’s made me peaceful.
“Carey,” I murmur, because I need him to know what he just did for me, but he hushes me with his thumb against my lips.
He glances to the door, then back to me. “Don’t touch yourself. If you wake up hard, you wait.”
“You’re cruel.”
“You like me that way.”
He steals one more taste then climbs off the bed and back into his pajamas.
After turning off the closet light, he returns to my side. “Sleep,” he says. “I’ll close the door behind me.”
“Please be quiet. If they see—”
“They won’t,” he says. “And if they do, they’ll learn.”
He reaches for the knob, pauses, then comes back to kiss my forehead. “Merry Christmas, Oppa.”
I catch his wrist. Just a second. Just long enough to whisper, “Thank you.”
He kisses my hand; “Thank you for trusting me.”