Chapter 13 Dave
My God. Kris is going to kill me. The mouth on him. His hands! This is going to be the world’s fastest blow job. From the first moment Kris touched me, I’ve been on the brink of exploding. I look down at him perched on the edge of the couch, one hand wrapped around my thighs, the other gripping my ass and that smart mouth of his spread wide over my cock. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
I squeeze my eyes closed and try to think of something unsexy. Overflowing landfills. Taxes. But Kris is just too good! He has the same look on his face as when he listens to music, eyes closed, moving with the rhythm, totally in the zone. I notice for the first time that his eyelashes have a golden color and that he has pale freckles across his nose. And then there’s his mouth, lips red and wet and spread. Holy god, he’s beautiful.
He must feel my eyes on him because he looks up at me and winks. I feel the impact of it through my whole body. My balls tighten, my heart squeezes, and I feel a little dizzy. If he fucked me, I might actually expire from the pleasure.
Can he tell I’m on edge? He’s certainly not holding back. Kris picks that moment to pull back and lavish attention on the head of my cock. He carefully swirls his tongue and swipes up the precum that’s pearling out. One hand leaves my thigh to grip the base of my cock as he continues to tease the head with his mouth.
“Ahhhhh,” I say unintelligibly, and his fingers flex appreciatively on my ass.
I reach for the pale strands of his hair that fall in front of his eyes. He never wears it down while we’re at work, but tonight it’s loose and flowing like some honest to goodness Norse god. I glide it back from his face, admiring the strong line of his nose and cheekbones. He looks up at me, his gaze smug.
“Arrogant,” I complain, but I think it’s obvious from the way my hips are jerking towards him that he does indeed have the skills to back it up.
“Mmhmmm,” he agrees. He pulls me towards him so he can swallow me deeper.
I try to hold steady, so I don’t hurt him with an accidental thrust, but he keeps pulling closer, inviting me in. He grumbles and pulls off.
“You can fuck my mouth, you know. I won’t break.”
“Don’t want to hurt you,” I grit out.
“I’ll make sure you don’t. Just focus on my hands.”
“Oka–ahhhhh.” I throw my head back as he swallows my cock back down.
Before I get lost in the sensation, I take a breath and center my attention on his hands. He’s shifted so that he’s holding me tight by the hips. He pulls me towards him, and I thrust experimentally in time with his motion.
“Mmmhmmm,” he hums.
I close my eyes and relax into his touch, feeling more confident now. He pulls me in again, and I thrust a little harder, then stop. He hums approvingly again. I think I’m getting it. I start thrusting in a slow steady rhythm now, following the press and release of his fingers against my hips. I move my hands from his shoulder to his head, holding him gently in place.
He was right, so, so right. He is next level good at this, at managing this whole blow job, at managing me. And at the heart of everything, he’s centering me and my pleasure. It’s humbling, because I already was having the time of my life going down on him. And now he’s doubling down and offering me more. God damn it. Not only is he not a selfish asshole, but he’s also a beautiful, generous lover. Giving me his body, lending me his control in order to lift me higher.
A rogue wave of emotion hits me, a horrible soul-deep tenderness for this man. What I’m feeling couldn’t be further from friends with benefits. This is like, benefits with love. Agghhh! I can’t believe that word is circling in my brain. It’s circling in my heart .
Holy crap. If he asked me right now, I couldn’t deny it. Motherfucking love. What a disaster I am, falling because of this. But really, there’s been so much leading up to it that I can’t really blame his superior oral abilities.
His fingers press again, and I thrust in a little harder, my mental confusion not slowing down my body’s enthusiasm. He moans around my cock, and I swear something snaps inside of me. I thrust a little more, jerky now, chasing the climax that’s been threatening the whole time. Kris responds by relaxing his grip and letting me go, ahhhhh! I want to go hard and I’m still a little afraid, but because his hands are still on me, I finally feel safe enough to go for it. I grip his hair, and he moans as I thrust harder.
Heavens above! He likes it harder; I’m never going to recover from this. I thrust again and again, and then I do it a little too hard because Kris gags and pulls me back. And I’m about to apologize, but then he presses me back in. He’s so good. And so beautiful and selfless.
My eyes rove over him, trying to capture every detail of this moment. And I notice that he’s hard again, that having me fucking him like this has him fully erect through his unbuttoned jeans, and it’s the first good look I’ve gotten at his cock and it gorgeous. There’s still so much more I want to do with him and my mind must have wandered because he presses me harder to him, spurring me on, and sucking me harder.
It’s too much. Too good. And spontaneously not enough and I wish it could last forever, but I cannot hold back the tide of pleasure any longer. When my climax finally comes crashing through me, I cry out and feel like my soul is leaving my body. Or maybe it’s just my good sense or equilibrium that’s broken free.
As my knees give way, he’s there. Of course he is. Making sure I don’t topple into the coffee table and guiding me onto the couch. I ride out the aftershocks of the hardest orgasm I’ve ever experienced in his arms, in his lap, and wishing I was in his heart.
Eventually, Kris moves beneath me. I’m probably crushing his windpipe or something. I shift so he can move away, but he merely adjusts our positions, so his legs are extended with me still on top. His arms are wrapped around me and his chin rests on the top of my head. I breathe him in, his scent and sweat surrounding me.
I am well and truly sunk now, because I never want to let go. This is like the opposite of post-nut clarity. I’ve got post-nut infatuation. I decide to say as little as possible because I’m liable to declare my undying love. Only, I need to do something to make sure he doesn’t leave.
“It’s late,” I say into his chest.
“Trying to get rid of me so soon, boss?”
“No! I mean, it’s too late to go home. We had a long day. You should get some sleep.”
“Here?” I can hear the hesitance in his voice.
“Of course, here,” I say, extricating myself from his embrace. “I’ll get you a toothbrush and a towel. Then, uh, you should go straight to bed.”
I put my hands on my hips, and he grins, no trace of hesitance left. It might be because I’m naked from the waist down.
“Whatever you say, boss.”
I sense his eyes on me as I head to the back, and it feels marvelous.