Chapter Eighteen #6
Using Kilian’s hair as a handle, Damir moved him up and down on his cock slowly, enjoying the heat of his mouth, the sloppy, inexpert motions of his tongue, and the desperate whines in his throat.
“Like this,” he explained. “Nice and slow to start, get me ready for you.”
Kilian made a sound of assent around the gag of Damir’s cock.
Heat surged through Damir’s gut, dripping in a heavy pulse off the tip of his cock and into Kilian’s waiting mouth. Kilian’s eyes fluttered shut in enjoyment.
“You’re so perfect,” Damir whispered. The words were loud in the quiet room, nothing but the wet sounds of Kilian’s inexperienced mouth on Damir’s aching cock accompanying them. “I could call you anything right now—my whore, my needy bitch, my pretty girl—and you’d love it, wouldn’t you?”
Kilian nodded frantically, the motion interrupting the blow job. Damir tightened his grip on Kilian’s hair and got him back on track.
“But you know what I want to call you most?” Damir punctuated the question by thrusting his hips forward, forcing Kilian to take him deeper. “Mine.”
Under his fingers, Kilian trembled.
He’d promised to fuck Kilian’s mouth, and he did.
He didn’t go as hard or as deep as he might have with someone more experienced at cock-sucking, but he gave it enough power that Kilian struggled to keep up, drool dripping down his chin and onto Damir’s shoes and the carpet.
When he felt himself getting close, Damir released his grip on Kilian’s hair, making him fall forward without his arms to steady him.
The motion took Damir deeper, deep enough to gag Kilian briefly, his throat constricting around Damir.
Damir hissed in air through clenched teeth at the feel of it and forced himself not to move, letting Kilian struggle through it.
When he’d regained control, Kilian started moving again, clumsy and desperate.
It should have been a bad blow job. Kilian couldn’t get the rhythm steady, and he kept forgetting to use his tongue, then remembered again.
But the sight of him struggling to stay upright, to make it good for Damir, compelled Damir so much he couldn’t help the way his balls drew up and his stomach tightened.
“Kilian,” he said, all the warning he could muster.
Kilian redoubled his efforts, licking sloppy-wet across the head of Damir’s cock and forcing himself to go deep.
His throat tightened again, and Damir couldn’t stop the orgasm building in his balls from rising, hot and heady.
It shot out of his cock in thick pulses, the first few in Kilian’s mouth and the last ones across his cheeks and nose when Kilian had to pull off, breathing heavily.
“Good,” Damir breathed as he came down, not capable of complex words yet. “You were so good for me.”
Kilian blinked up at him with tears in his eyes.
The mascara he’d worn tracked black smudges under his eyes; his lips were puffy and stained red, but not from the lip gloss he’d worn, instead, from the repeated applications of Damir’s cock.
He was flushed from his cheeks all the way down into the collar of his shirt, where the glint of the necklace stood out against the pink of his skin.
Damir grabbed Kilian by the collar and drew him to his feet.
He was a mess, his shirt untucked, and his erection straining against the light gray of his suit pants, a wet stain by the head.
“Are you all wet for me?” Damir meant it to be mean, but it came out fond.
Kilian nodded frantically.
“You need to come? Need me to get you off?”
“Yes. Yes, please, please, Damir—”
Damir pushed him down onto the bed. He undid Kilian’s pants with one hand, palming the other across his side possessively. Then, he dragged Kilian’s pants and underwear down under his ass and took Kilian’s cock into his mouth.
Strange how the same act could be so different depending on how it was performed.
He did to Kilian nominally the same thing Kilian had done to him.
But with his hands pressing Kilian’s hips into the mattress and his body caging Kilian’s legs, Kilian was as helpless as he’d been on his knees, still Damir’s to command.
He was also desperate and needy and riding the edge from the second Damir touched him.
Damir made a game of it for a few short minutes, pulling away each time Kilian’s cries rose in pitch.
“Someday,” he promised, “I’ll really draw it out. Get you close over and over for hours, make you sweat and cry and beg.”
“Damir…” It would have been a threat if it weren’t quite so pathetic.
Damir kissed his hipbone. “But not today.”
He took Kilian’s cock into his mouth again and sucked him down.
Kilian cried out, trying to writhe in Damir’s grip and failing. A short, sharp “Ah!” left his mouth, and then he filled Damir’s with the cloying, bitter-salt taste of his come.
At least he’d learned to hydrate better.
Damir kicked off his pants and pulled Kilian’s off as well before crawling up the bed to take him into his arms.
“We should shower,” he said, eyeing the come flaking on Kilian’s cheekbone.
Kilian snuggled into his grip. “In a minute.”
They were both asleep before they could consider getting up again.