by Roe Horvat
The tight grasp of his slick asshole around me felt amazing. The sight of him finding his pleasure, the muscles of his torso and belly rippling, his hands tugging at the hair on my chest, his eyelids growing heavy as he stared into my eyes… He was so beautiful it hurt to watch him.
“Take what you need, my sweet boy. Make yourself come.”
He rode me but slowly as if trying to prolong it, to edge himself. Rolling his hips, teasing his cock with his palm, he kissed me while I ran my fingers along his rim, caressing his pucker, where it was stretched around me. Then he crouched, his feet by my hips, and lifted himself up, then pushed down, impaling himself in sharp, hard movements. He winced with pain yet did it again. He hurt himself with my cock. Sitting down again, taking me in, all the way to the hilt, he cried out with ecstasy.
“You love it when it hurts, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he gasped. “I love that you’re big enough to hurt me.”
An incubus. I’d known that from the start.
He was bouncing up and down, mewling, completely mindless, a sheen of sweat covering his body. When I tugged on his barbells, he sped up even more, leaning back until I had to support him, holding his waist, my cockhead dragging along the front wall of his hole on each fast stroke.
“Come, boy. Come on my cock.”
He pinched his cockhead between his fingers and yelled from his orgasm, his hole spasming around me. I had to bite the inside of my cheek so he wouldn’t drag me with him beyond the point of no return. I didn’t want to come yet. Sometimes I dream about you fucking me for the whole night. His pleasure was mine. His features going slack with orgasm… nothing compared. Well, except maybe the sight of his hole stretching around my girth.
I stood, taking him with me, and laid him down on the sofa. I loved it when he was like this—fucked out and content, happy, his asshole soft and open. I fucked his limp, sated body, watching his eyelashes flutter, tongue darting between his parted lips, his cheeks pink with pleasure and exertion.
“Daddy…” He sighed. “Daddy, I love your cock. Love it so much…”
“I know you do. Tonight, you’ll get as much of it as you can take.”
“Please, Daddy, keep fucking my hole. Don’t ever stop. I love your cock so much. Please, keep fucking me…”
I slowed down, pacing myself, and kissed his lips. He clung to me, his hands on my thighs and ass, pulling me to him. I knew what his young body was capable of and what to do to make him lose his mind with pleasure. He was already drifting away from reality. I could see it in his face and hear it in the nonsensical, broken sentences he uttered, praising my dick and begging for more.
He was completely at my mercy. I took him into my arms once more and strained to stand again. My legs shook with the exertion, but I managed. I carried him to my bed, laid him down, and wrapped myself around him, then filled his hole over and over with slow, rocking thrusts.
“You feel so good inside me. Thank you, Daddy… thank you,” he babbled. “Please, stay inside me. Please, Daddy…”
When I needed a break, I just circled my hips, listening to his panting breaths and feeling him writhe underneath me. After a while, I sped up, fucking him harder, only to slow down again. Fuck, maybe I could do this for the whole night.
Michael’s words were garbled; he was barely conscious.
“Keep fucking me, please. Keep fucking me…”
I thrust harder. His mouth fell open, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Daddy!”
In the end, Michael was moaning without a pause, inhuman noises tearing out of his throat on every inhale and exhale, his hands clutching the headboard, his eyes squeezed shut. He was hard again, his pretty cock bouncing on his belly.
I rose, kneeling between his spread legs, and pumped my hips harder while I took his erection into my hand.
“Will you come again? Will you yell and mewl and shake for me? Tell me.”
He couldn’t answer. His lips moved, but nothing beyond incomprehensible grunts came out of his mouth.
“My sweet boy. I’ve turned off your brain with my dick, haven’t I?”
He groaned louder at my words. I was getting close again, and this time, I didn’t think I could hold back. Seeing him like this, so completely and utterly mine, was too much for my self-control. I licked my palm and stroked his cock, and Michael arched his back.
I reached deep into him, meeting no resistance, the sense of ownership threatening to overwhelm me. I wanted to feel him come once more. I needed it. I gritted my teeth and moved, filling him over and over, harder and harder. My jaw ached. Harder. My skin slapped against his, his open legs shaking with the force of my thrusts. Holding back my orgasm was like trying to hold back a storm with bare hands. I couldn’t take it… Couldn’t…
“Come on, Mikey. Come on!” I yelled at him, tearing into his body with more force than ever.
Suddenly, Michael wailed, and the first drops of cum splattered onto his belly. Yes!
I threw my head back with the rush of pleasure and emotion. My sweet boy, coming for me. Now, I could let go. I roared when I came, his walls squeezing around me, milking my cock, and I felt as if his hole was sucking the cum out of my balls, his body melting together with mine, and I knew I’d never find my way out.
I stayed inside him and kissed him, pushing into his slack mouth, but he was barely responsive.
With regret, I pulled out of him and licked his cum off his belly and chest. Then I rolled his limp body to his side and spooned him.
“I love your cock so much. Love it…”
His mumbled words sounded as if he wanted to say something else.
I was a fool.
“I can feel your cum,” he whispered, half-asleep.
“You like sleeping with my cum inside you, sweet boy?”
“It makes me dream of you. No nightmares…”
I knew it from the beginning. Michael Bourgeon would ruin me. And he had. In barely four weeks.
15
Daddy likes me
Michael
I woke up with a sense of satisfaction so profound I felt it in the marrow of my bones. I’d come on Vincent’s beautiful cock twice last night. In fact, the sex felt like one long orgasm, stretched between two peaks. My body had quivered with ecstasy for the whole time he’d been inside me. He was magical.
I rolled on his bed, surrounded by his scent, and stretched. The cabin was quiet, so Vincent must have gone running.
I reached between my legs and tugged on my morning wood, luxuriating in the feeling of constant arousal I felt with Vincent.
I love you, Daddy. I love you so much… It was what I’d repeated in my head over and over when he’d filled my body last night.
I was in love. Stupid, I knew. He was my bodyguard, and I needed him as a professional, not as a lover. But now he was my everything. As soon as I was back in civilization, with access to the Internet and my assets, I was firing his ass. He wasn’t supposed to be my employee. We were equals. Partners. I wanted to be with him. For real. Forever.
Except the feds have to catch the killer first, don’t they?
I didn’t want to be realistic. Not now, when I could still bask in the traces of Vincent in me and all around me. When he came back from his run, I’d make him breakfast and massage his back. I wanted to take care of him. Show him I loved him when I couldn’t say it.
I teased myself, thinking about him, saying his name, but I didn’t come—my orgasms were only for Vincent. Then I showered. Clean and awake, I made coffee and looked through the window. He was nowhere in sight.
The nervous knot in my belly tightened.
I drank my coffee, growing more and more alert the longer I couldn’t spot him. He should’ve been back by now. The days he went running alone, he usually was back by the pier in half an hour, stretching and doing push-ups or swimming.
When Vincent had been gone for an hour and fifteen minutes, I was hyperventilating. I wasn’t allowed to leave
the cabin; I wouldn’t make that same mistake again. I guessed if something happened to him, the rule applied more than ever.
I typed a message to him. No answer. I called, but it went to voicemail.
Fuck. Fuck!
The thought that something might have happened to him was unbearable.
Two hours.
Hugging the toilet, I threw up the coffee.
I paced around the cabin, sweating, trying to breathe regularly, but for the past half an hour, I’d been teetering on the edge of a panic attack.
Desperate, I went to his bedroom and grabbed the pillow he’d slept on. I clutched it to my chest and buried my nose in it, drawing in his scent.
Please, let him be safe. Please, let him be safe. I repeated the same sentence over and over in my head, rocking back and forth, my tears soaking Vincent’s pillow.
After three and a half hours, heavy footsteps clumped outside, and the door opened.
“Vincent!” I burst out of the bedroom. He was a little sweaty, taking off his muddied boots.
“Shit, Vincent.” I exhaled with relief. He was back. And he was smiling. Jesus fucking Christ! My anger rose like a tsunami. I’d cried in his bedroom for the last hour, and he was smiling.
“You’ve been gone for hours,” I exclaimed.
“I did a wider perimeter around the area.” He hung his jacket on the peg on the door. “There was a little gap in the report this morning, and I wanted to check the place out. But we’re fine. No cars, no people. We’re good.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were going out?”
He finally looked at me and froze.
“You were asleep. I left a note.” His gaze roamed my features, no doubt taking in my red eyes and blotched cheeks. Fuck.
“What note, Vincent? Where the fuck is the note?” I yelled. “I was making myself crazy with worry. I tried calling, but it went to voicemail. Do you have any idea how scared I was?”
He took a step toward me. “You’re safe, Michael.”
“I wasn’t scared for me, you idiot. You were gone, your phone unresponsive. I was terrified for you. Fucking hell, Vincent!”
“Hey.” He raised his palms in a placating gesture, then strode to the couch and picked up a piece of paper from the carpet by the coffee table. “Look. It must’ve slipped to the floor. I’m sorry, Mikey. Next time I’ll tell you.”
“Dammit, don’t do this to me.” I was so relieved and so angry at him at the same time. The tears prickled again. He wasn’t supposed to see me cry, dammit.
“Hey, Mikey.” He stepped closer. “I’m so sorry. Come here.”
He tugged me to him, and I braced my arms against his chest, unwilling to accept his embrace. Hugging me tighter, he kissed my temple, and I almost missed the gesture in my frustration.
“I’m sorry, Mikey. Shh. I’m sorry, baby.”
I tilted my face up, searching his eyes.
His finger traced underneath my eye with infinite gentleness, and a warm hand cupped my face while he stared at me with regret and devotion.
“So sorry, I made you cry, my sweetest boy.”
I kissed him.
I attacked his mouth, starved for his affection, for comfort and reassurance. I could’ve burst with the sudden rush of joy. Vincent’s tongue took over my mouth, his large palm cupped my nape, and he drank me in. I slumped in his arms, giving myself to him to do whatever he pleased. Of course, he was forgiven. I’d been so terrified I had lost him, kissing him now was pure ecstasy.
He tasted of strength and sweat, smelled of the forest, and when he clutched me to his big body, I vibrated with need.
“Forgive me, my sweet boy,” he whispered against my mouth, then sank to his knees in front of me. He pulled my sweats and briefs down and mouthed my cock, taking me in until I hit the back of his throat. His gaze never left mine.
“Vincent…” I gasped.
He sucked me slowly but steadily as if he was thirsty for my cum. He cupped my ass cheeks with both hands and pulled me to him, groaning with pleasure when his lips brushed my pubes, my cockhead lodged in his throat. Vincent made love to my cock with his mouth. That was it—he made love to me. I placed my palms on his unshaven cheeks and just stared in awe. It didn’t take long. He had me rocking my hips and fucking his throat in a minute. When I came, crying out with the intensity, he swallowed every last drop. I wobbled, my body going limp, but he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to his bedroom.
We rolled on the bed, and he never stopped kissing me as he peeled the clothes off my body. Finally, we were naked, and I suckled on his tongue when he fumbled for the lube on the nightstand. He pushed his slick fingers into my perpetually needy hole.
“Your cock. Give me your cock.”
At last, he pressed inside me. He went slowly but all the way, his hips resting against my skin. He pushed his tongue into my mouth again and rocked into me.
“You missed me, my boy?”
“I was afraid you weren’t coming back.”
“I’ll always come back for you, Mikey.”
Rolling his hips, he fucked me deep but unhurried. I wrapped my legs around him, keeping him close, locking him to me. It was so fucking good. His huge cock wrecking my sore hole again, his mouth on mine, the taste of my cum still on his tongue, his big hot body enveloping me, holding me tight…
“You’re so needy, my boy. It’s like you’d wither and die without my cum inside you.”
“I’m so empty without you.” Anxiety flashed through me. It was true in a way that had nothing to do with my slutty ass. I wanted Vincent in my heart. In my soul.
“You have me, sweet boy.” He rocked his hips for emphasis, making my insides buzz with joy, but he kissed me too.
Maybe, just maybe, after this was over and we’d returned to the city, maybe Vincent would really stay.
His magnificent dick pumped into me at the perfect angle to keep me vibrating, even though I knew I wouldn’t come again. He pulled out and licked my balls, my hole. Ignoring the lube, he thrust his tongue inside me, worshipping my body.
Then he flipped me over and impaled my exhausted body again. I just lay there, so relaxed he could’ve fisted me, and I wouldn’t have flinched. He fucked me for long minutes, filling my softened hole over and over. Then he roared, shooting deep inside my body. He stilled and spread out over me, keeping me pinned to the bed, my hole creamed and stuffed full, stretched to capacity, and I fell asleep underneath him, in the middle of the day, completely blissed out. I didn’t even notice when he pulled out.
16
His need
Vincent
Probably the most shameless thing Michael had ever done happened the fourth week of our confinement. One morning, he limped a little when we went running, and he kept shifting in his seat at lunch. He was truly an incubus, but his body was human. Despite his needy eyes, I had to give his asshole a break. That had been three days ago, and I fully expected him to plead for a hard fucking tonight. I couldn’t wait.
Of course, Michael, by far, exceeded my expectations.
I was checking my iPad, looking through the surveillance information. It all looked okay, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Not with Michael’s life. I was getting apprehensive. It had been four weeks, and the FBI wasn’t making much progress.
The bathroom door creaked, and Michael emerged, completely naked. He strolled to the middle of the room, set the now half-empty lube bottle on the coffee table within my reach, and knelt on the floor, his back to me.
Then he bent over, spreading his legs and laying his head on his folded arms on the floor. I got a direct view of his glistening, pink pucker right there in front of me.
My mouth went dry, and my groin tightened. I could easily come in my pants. What the fuck was he up to now?
“I made myself ready for you, Daddy.” He wiggled. “Do you want my hole tonight? I won’t come. This is just for you. I want to be a good fuckhole for you. Please, Daddy, do you want to use me?”
And then he just waited, eyes closed, still as a statue. He only clenched his pucker a few times, taunting me. My cock immediately throbbed with need, and I suppressed a crazed laugh. He was unbelievable.
What was I supposed to do with something like that?
Mesmerized, I stood, opened my pants, pulled out my hard length, and stroked myself. My gaze glued to his exposed ass, I took a step closer and grabbed the lube bottle. His pucker tightened again, right in front of my eyes, and a shiver ran through his body. But, he stayed still and waited, like a good obedient boy.
A demon. That’s what he was. And I fell for all his tricks, one after another.
I knelt behind him and thrust inside his slick asshole. His rim stretched, his walls enveloped me, and his body sucked me in deep. Home.
He was quiet, but his fists clawed the carpet.
And because it was what he’d asked me to do, I ignored the rest of him.
Just a hot hole for my cock.
I didn’t kiss him, didn’t stroke his skin with my hands, no caress, nothing. I just used the hole.
I moved, sliding in and out of the heavenly tightness, the friction and warmth absolutely wonderful. Tendrils of bliss spread from my groin, and I hummed and moaned quietly. The sensations around my cock and the rising desire in my balls were the only things I thought of.
It was my moment, my pleasure. Just for me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, close to orgasm. Nope. Not yet. Not wanting it to end so soon, I pulled out and fastened my gaze on the dark opening in front of the tip of my cock. I needed more. He was trying to stay quiet, but muffled noises escaped him as he waited, empty and quivering.
I rose on my feet and crouched down, lining up again. Grabbing his hips, I slammed inside, and his ring fluttered around me. I swung my hips again, my position allowing me to drive forward with speed and power, and this time, Michael mewled, a sound muffled by his arm.