Chapter 9 #4
After a few more kisses, John eased Logan onto his back on the mattress.
He dribbled more lube onto his own cock, his hand working over the veiny shaft to slick it up.
Hunger pooled in Logan’s belly. John Hakon was undoubtedly handsome, his body thick with underlying muscle, sweat gleaming across sun-tanned skin in the lamplight.
John bent to pepper Logan’s still heaving chest with more kisses and took his nipple between red lips.
Logan gasped, clutching the coverlet beneath him as John spread his legs and lined himself up with Logan’s entrance again.
John’s intense gaze met Logan’s bleary, fucked-out one.
John thrust in, and Logan canted his hips up to meet it.
The intensity of the stretch from this angle practically forced the air from his lungs.
John’s lips trailed over Logan’s collarbone, up his neck and chin till he found his lips.
Logan moaned into the kiss, and John thrust deeper this time, the veins of his cock dragging deliciously through Logan’s insides.
Logan clenched, unable to help the natural reactions of his body.
“You’re gonna strangle my cock if you do that,” John said in a low voice. But it didn’t stop his cock from swelling in response.
Logan’s responding moan sounded absolutely filthy in his own ears. He grabbed at John’s arm for support. Then realized he’d done so with his wooden hand and settled for simply resting it against John’s bicep.
John set a slow and deep pace, hungrily watching Logan’s changing expressions. He placed his own hand over Logan’s wooden one, curling the jointed wooden fingers around his arm so Logan could hold him.
Logan tried matching his pace, dick bouncing and aching against his soft stomach. “Ah…Captain, please, faster.”
John pushed them further up the mattress, and Logan’s heels dug into the soft surface, seeking leverage as the pace quickened. Pleasure threaded every nerve, weaving into an intoxicating tapestry. Logan grabbed his own cock with his real hand, stroking it a few times, hips arching off the bed.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” John moaned, thrusting faster, breath ragged. “Make yourself come for me. Show me how you jerk off when you’re alone in your cabin, hm?”
A small wave of embarrassment washed through Logan’s ecstasy, somehow heightening it.
His hand moved faster, eliciting another string of moans as the pleasure sharpened.
John watched him with hooded eyes and that, too, sent sparks sizzling through his body.
It was one thing to have sex, to get one another off simply for the fun of it; it was quite another to show John what he did in private when he was completely alone.
Pleasuring himself while John was inside him was somehow more intimate than anything they’d done before.
Logan squeezed his eyes shut, basking in the heat of John’s regard.
He imagined he could feel John’s muscles flex beneath his wooden palm as he thumbed his own slit with the other hand and spread precum down his shaft.
The whorls of his fingertips glided over the taut skin, sliding back up the shaft in a loose fist. His breath grew ragged, and he knew he was mere moments away from toppling over the edge.
The pleasure from front and back overwhelmed his senses.
He rolled his hand over the head of his cock, teasing the slit before stroking down again.
Moans and gasps fell from his lips, unburdened by self-consciousness.
A particularly deep stroke that hit Logan’s prostate just right had him coming into his hand, semen spurting warm and sticky across his belly and coating his fingers.
“Fuck, you’re so…” John’s voice cut off in a groan as Logan’s hole clenched around him. “I’m close—keep going.”
“Yes, Captain.” Logan obeyed, eyes opening blearily as he continued to pump his fist over his dick.
Cum squelched between his fingers, and John moaned, thrusting faster and deeper, quickly raising Logan up into the clouds of overstimulation.
Small whimpers escaped Logan’s lips, but he didn’t stop fucking his own fist till he finally met John’s intense brown eyes.
John grunted, and with one last thrust, spilled hard into Logan’s achingly stretched insides.
His body shuddered, and Logan reached up to clutch John’s other arm, not caring that he was getting cum all over them both.
John’s muscles shifted beneath his touch as he bent to kiss him.
Logan’s eyes drifted closed again, drunk on the taste of brandy on John’s tongue and the girth of John inside him.
The kiss broke, and John withdrew, dick squelching through the cum on its way out.
Logan gasped at the gape he left behind, resisting the urge to cover it up with his hands.
When he finally opened his eyes, John peeled Logan’s wooden fingers from their grip on his arm and collapsed to the bed beside him.
John’s fingertips trailed through the cum on Logan’s stomach down to the place where his cum leaked out of Logan’s hole. He fingered the rim, smirking when it elicited another gasp.
“So stretched out for me,” he murmured possessively, almost reverently.
Logan didn’t move, and John withdrew to rest his hand on Logan’s thigh.
He didn’t try to cuddle him, and Logan didn’t expect it.
Logan found himself staring up at the ceiling of John’s new captain’s quarters, directly into the eyes of a blond, rosy-cheeked cherub. He squeaked in surprise.
“You okay?” John murmured.
“I think we’re being watched.” He pointed one cum-soaked finger to the mural. It encompassed the entire ceiling over the bed, a blue and gold sky framed with rosy clouds and a cadre of cherubs with tiny wings and bare asses frolicking throughout.
John looked up and laughed, eyes crinkling.
“Great start to my captaincy, a bunch of winged babies watching me fuck.”
“You should probably paint over it.” Logan grimaced, both at the painting and the way his lower back twinged as he shifted.
John tilted his head thoughtfully, examining the mural. “I don’t know. That one kinda looks like you. Maybe I’ll keep it.”
Logan swatted at him, wincing again.
“Was I too rough on you?” John asked.
“I think I’ll be fine.” Logan made to sit up. Sometimes they went back to playing cards after getting off, but the post-nut bliss was fading, and he suddenly felt like he should go.
His body had other plans. A jolt of pain shot straight from his stretched out asshole up his spine, and he fell back to the bed, wincing.
“Take it easy.” John patted his shoulder. “You just got fucked by the biggest dick on the Broken Sea. Just lay down till you recover.”
“Haha, very funny.”
“I dare you to find a bigger one,” John said with mock seriousness. “Just lay back down and count the number of disturbingly accurate cherub dicks on my new ceiling.”
Logan covered his eyes with his forearm. “I refuse. You’ll really have to paint over it or I’ll never come back.”
“Fine, fine,” John chuckled. “I’ll get a scene done of what happened here tonight. To commemorate your final deflowering.”
Logan shot him a scandalized look. “Don’t you dare.”
John wrapped one arm around his waist, pulling him close against his warm chest. “Seriously though, rest for a bit.”
The warmth of John’s skin, his breath ghosting across Logan’s cheek, and the soft press of his—admittedly huge—cock against Logan’s thigh was already lulling Logan into a peaceful stupor.
It couldn’t hurt to stay a few more minutes.
He would go back to his own cozy little cabin onboard the Siren after a short rest.
He closed his eyes, blocking out the artfully rendered cherubs above him, and didn’t even notice when he dropped immediately to sleep.