19. Astor
NINETEEN
ASTOR
Rurik may be a lot of things that piss me off, but he sucks my cock like he’s worshiping it. I had no concept anything could feel so good. This is even better than last night, and I didn’t think that was possible.
The reverence of how he looks up at me does something to me.
My chest stirs, and I cannot look away.
Never in my life would I think I’d like anyone’s lips around my cock.
For a moment I might believe there’s no one else he’s seeing. I’m sure I’ll crash back to reality later, but right now, with his lips stretched around me, I prefer to stay in our folie a deux.
I don’t pick up the cipher. I need to watch the way he swallows me.
He smiles at me, and my chest heaves like the universe just shifted, changing everything I thought to be real.
I’ve never felt so connected to another person, and I don’t think that’s because I’ve never engaged in intimate acts.
It’s because of what he does to me, and no matter how hard I fight, he finds a way to crawl inside my chest.
Nothing has the right to hold this much pleasure. He swallows me expertly, pushing the limits of ecstasy to unknown heights. I should have already come, but anytime I’m close, he backs off, playing my body better than I ever could.
I’m lost to him. Lost to time. Lost to every other part of my miserable life. The reprieve is intoxicating.
I can’t stop touching him. His face. His shoulders. His arms. His hair as it falls into his face. And suddenly I’m riding the edge of devastation about to break for him. He sucks me harder, rolling his hand in time with his mouth, dragging me to the depths of bliss, and I can’t breathe.
I’m drowning in it.
In him.
The first wave of pleasure crashes into me, and I’m sunk.
I’m hit with a second and third. Endless until I’m shaken to my core. He swallows my cum, drinking me like he promised he would, every spurt, not letting a drop escape. And he doesn’t stop even when my release does. He keeps sucking until I’m oversensitive and pulling his hair.
“Stop. Please stop.” I yank and gasp, squirming to get away from him.
He finally relents, grinning as he comes off my cock. He licks his lips and sits back on his heels. “You are so fucking sexy.”
He’s rearranging the core parts of myself I knew to be true. Challenging my tightly held beliefs. I don’t know who I’ll even be when he’s through with me. I’m reeling and need something to grab onto to ground me.
He stands, stripping off his clothes before I’ve caught my breath. Still too stunned for words. My brain hasn’t caught up with my body. How do I even process the earth-shattering bliss?
And then I’m caught in another trance entirely as he wraps his fingers around his cock, fully bare and on display in front of me.
He’s carved out of muscle like a god, body perfectly sculpted, with tattoos emphasizing and enhancing his natural features.
I’ve never thought much about tattoos, only that they weren’t for me, and of course I knew he had them.
They creep onto his hands from his sleeves and up his neck from his collar like they are spreading of their own volition.
But seeing the full work on his naked body is pure art.
The vines on his neck spread down his throat and across his chest, wrapping around his shoulders like they grew over his body.
There are intricate butterflies and beetles nestled among them, all done like they are tiny pieces of art themselves.
Some are jeweled while others are almost mechanical.
It looks like he’s let different artists have their own take on each one.
He has words written across his throat, written in another language I’ll have to ask him about. Or sneak a picture of, so I can know what it says. I’m nosy, and that’s not a crime. It has nothing to do with liking him.
Down his Adonis lines, there are daggers with roses on the hilts, worked to follow the path of his muscle so perfectly he looks like he was born with them.
He swallows, drawing my attention back to the words written across his throat: Fuit Ilium
I’ll have to look up what it means.
I want to examine each one like I would a painting in an art museum.
I do think I could stand in front of him all day just to admire his naked form.
He rubs his tongue inside of his cheek, grinning. “I see you looking.”
“It wasn’t… I’m not… ” I swallow hard as he steps between my knees again. “Your artwork is beautiful.”
His smile spreads as he stands in front of me but doesn’t touch me. “You like how I look naked, baby boy?”
I avoid his eyes, nodding, warmth crawling up my face.
He brushes his thumb across my cheek before wrapping his hand around the back of my skull and leaning down to kiss the spot his thumb touched. “Take my dick in your hand.”
It’s right at eye level as he towers over my seated position.
I can’t believe this is really happening again, but I don’t freeze.
I do what he asks, wrapping my fingers around his cock.
He’s silky soft and painfully hard, and he’s so thick, my fingers don’t meet.
My dick responds even though I’ve just come, which shouldn’t be possible.
I go days between hard-ons. Two in under an hour seems impossible.
He’s an aphrodisiac in human form, and I can’t get enough.
“That’s right, baby boy. Stroke me.” He flicks his tongue across my lips, looking right into my eyes.
His command sets my hand into motion, and I remember how this worked last time. What made him feel good was locked in my muscle memory, my body already learning him like it knew what I wanted better than my own fucking mind.
“Open your mouth.” He uses the grip on my head to pull it forward.
“What?”
“You heard me. Open your mouth.” He wraps his hand around mine on his cock and brushes his tip over my lips. “I’m going to fuck your throat, baby.”
My stomach jumps to my throat. Of course, he’d expect this in return. It’s just a blow job. It doesn’t change anything, but I’ve never done anything of the sort willingly. I’ve actively avoided it. I don’t know how to get someone off. A hand job, sure, I do that to myself.
My heart hammers out of control, and my vision narrows.
“I can just jack you off again…”
“I want to be inside you.”
My cock jumps, responding to his words better than I can. “I don’t think—” But what excuse do I even have? Other than my fucking racing heart. “I’ve never—”
“We’ll take it slow, baby. Taste me.” He puts his tip to my mouth.
I look up at him while swirling my tongue around his tip.
“Fuck. Just your tongue on me has me almost coming. How do you do this to me.”
I risk another lick, finding I enjoy the taste. “Is this okay?”
“You’re perfect, baby boy.” Rurik presses forward, forcing his tip between my lips. “Wrap those perfect lips around my cock.”
I do as he asks, barely taking his head into my mouth. He rocks forward, sliding deeper over my tongue, giving me another taste of him. I really like it, and that disgusts me a little.
What is wrong with me? This is the last thing I should enjoy doing.
“Fuck. You feel so good, baby boy. Keep sucking me.”
I swirl my tongue around his head, like he did to me, getting another taste. He’s silky and salty, and the thick weight in my mouth feels good. He groans, cursing. I do it again, and he bucks forward, nearly hitting the back of my throat.
“Fuck Ash. Fuuuuck.” His fist in my hair tightens.
I gag, but don’t care. Not when he reacts like that.
“Do you know how hot you are gagging on my cock?” He pulls back, but I chase him, meeting him as he thrusts forward again, this time making him fully abuse the back of my throat.
My eyes burn, and my body protests with another gag, but the second I look up at him and see the ecstasy written all over his face, it’s worth it.
To make him react like this—to me—it’s a power and need I do not understand, but I want more.
“You are so good at this.” His touch softens, working his cock in and out of my mouth.
I let him lead, using my tongue as much as possible to elicit his reactions.
“I love watching you take my cock. Fuck, baby, you’re a natural and so fucking sexy like this.” His dick throbs against my tongue.
I’m elated by his praise. I want more. I want it all. I try to take him deeper, fighting my throat so I can swallow around him like he did to me. I don’t manage but he still seems to like it.
“Yes, do that. Open your jaw, let me into your throat. I need to be deeper. As deep as I can get inside you.” He shudders and thrusts, getting nearly all of his massive cock into my mouth.
I gag again, but force myself to relax. I’ve had years upon years of training to ignore the reactions of my body because of my position. I might as well get some personal benefit from them.
“Fuck, Ash. Fuck fuck fuck.” He grunts his words, fucking my face.
I watch every reaction, groaning as I do. All his muscles flex as he focuses on fucking my mouth and it’s a gorgeous sight to see.
“Wow. The way you let me slide into your throat.” He’s moaning and gentle with his touches, in sharp contrast to his cock’s aggressive thrusts. He cups my face—all his attention and focus on me. “I will never get enough of you.”
I like his reactions, no I love them. It’s contrary to all I knew to be true. But I ignore the words said in the heat of passion.
I’m high off the power to make him react like this.
“Think you can take it all?” He rubs his thumb around my stretched lips as he withdraws until just his tip remains inside me.
I don’t know what possesses me, but I open my mouth wider and stick out my tongue. He takes my face with both hands and drives his cock all the way in, filling every available inch, until I can’t breathe.
“You’re so perfect. You take my cock so well, baby.” He’s relentless, and I don’t want it any other way. “I cannot get enough of you.”
I might believe him.
I don’t know anything but him invading all of my senses. His taste. His scent. The feel of him throbbing.
And he explodes down my throat as if I wasn’t full enough of him. He takes the last bit and I swallow as best I can, while he rides his pleasure out on my face.
I don’t want it to end. Bent on giving him the best blow job of his life, because I can’t not be the best, and even more than that, I want his obsession to continue.
I don’t know what that says about me.
Rurik rips me open and climbs inside, whether I want it or not.
But now that I know what it feels like to be filled by him, I dread when I must return to empty.