by Nora Phoenix
Cornell pulled his tongue in, smacking a little before licking his lips. "Can I please have more?" he asked, and it didn't sound like a cheesy line at all.
"You can have whatever you want, sweetheart," Rhys said, and he'd never meant a statement more.
He sank his cock into his throat slowly, feeling Cornell open up around him. “Mmmm,” he sighed as he slid in all the way.
The angle was perfect, and that wet mouth was so hot and tight around his cock. He rocked back and forth, his balls slapping gently against Cornell’s face. His eyes were watering, but Rhys didn’t pull back yet. He wasn’t much of a sadist, didn’t really get off on pain or subs struggling, but the sound of someone choking on his cock was one of the sexiest, most intoxicating sounds ever.
Ah, there it was, the slight gurgle, Cornell’s nostrils flaring as his eyes watered more. “Such a good boy,” Rhys said, “letting me use your mouth.”
He slid a finger over Cornell’s throat where he could feel his cock lodged deep inside him. What a feeling that was, knowing you were inside another man, controlling his breath. It was a responsibility that never failed to arouse him. And Cornell’s face, growing red now, showed nothing but submission and joy at serving Rhys.
With regret, he pulled back to allow Cornell a few gulps of breath. Saliva pooled around his mouth, and Rhys smiled. “I like seeing you like this,” he said. “You’re usually so composed, so put together. I like making you lose that composure, love making you look used… Because that’s what you are, isn’t it? My cock-hungry boy?”
Cornell made a sound that was close to a keen, opening his mouth again for more. How had Rhys gotten this lucky? He didn’t hesitate but sank back inside his throat, fucking his mouth with deep, languid strokes until Cornell gagged again. He held his dick as deep inside him as he could for just two seconds more, reveling in the sounds, before pulling back.
Cornell gasped for breath, tears meandering down his cheeks, but any question Rhys might have had of whether he was reaching his limits evaporated when Cornell opened wide again. “You like choking on my cock, don’t you?” Rhys said, deeply pleased. “Such a good boy for your Sir.”
There was that hesitation again, as if he should say something else. But what? Your boyfriend? Your Master? Neither seemed to fit. He’d have to ask Ford, maybe, because it bugged him.
Cornell let out a little moan of pleasure, and Rhys refocused on him. “I’m gonna reward you for being so good for me.”
Even upside down, with watery eyes, Cornell’s face lit up. How deep was his need for praise, for reward, Rhys realized all over again.
“Oh sweetheart, you’re so perfect… Look at you, taking my cock like such an obedient boy. Yes, sweetheart, swallow good and tight now. I’m gonna come down your throat, let you taste all of me,” Rhys babbled, his body tensing in anticipation.
Both his hands grabbed Cornell’s head, fisting his hair as he rammed his cock in deep now, not being gentle either. But Cornell took it, his face growing red, but his eyes, oh, god, his eyes… They were on fire, burning gemstones of want, of desire. There was not a sliver of doubt he not only allowed this, but wanted it. Needed it.
Rhys allowed him one more respite to draw in a few gasping breaths, and then he sped up again, fucking his mouth with the desperation of someone chasing an orgasm that was within reach, so close he could taste it. One last shove, so hard his balls made that filthy slapping sound, and then he pulled back enough so his cum would flood Cornell’s mouth and not be wasted straight down his throat.
“Every drop, my boy,” he said, his voice raw. “Take every drop.”
And Cornell did, sucking and swallowing, his cheeks hollowing as his throat and tongue worked overtime to keep up. He sucked him dry, even cleaning him off afterward, until they were both panting.
Rhys steadied himself against the bed, his chest heaving. “Look at you,” he whispered. “You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked, your lips all swollen and red, your eyes on fire for me… Your whole body is flushed and your cock is so gorgeous, leaking and desperate for more. And we’ve only just started. I’m gonna use every inch of your body, my boy, make you pleasure me in every way I can imagine…and you’ll love it, won’t you?”
19
Cornell had always been good at multitasking, but right now, his brain was failing him. Or maybe it was his body. Both? All he knew was that Rhys had asked him a question, and for the life of him, Cornell couldn’t form words. He didn’t even have them in his brain, too overwhelmed with the sensory overload.
The sound of his rasping breaths as he tried to get oxygen back into his system. The thick taste of Rhys’s cum that lingered on his tongue. The way his skin felt too tight, too hot, and yet perfectly right. Rhys’s leather pants that smelled so good and that caressed his skin every now and then as he brushed against him. His balls, throbbing with indignity that they hadn’t been allowed to unload. His cock, so full and desperate for attention. Rhys’s eyes on him, looking at him as if he was perfect. The smell of sex that hung heavy in the air. His ass, clenching around the plug inside him, eager for more.
He wanted to answer, needed to, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he rolled on his stomach, then carefully edged off the bed until he could take up position against it. He bent over, finding good footing and letting his upper body rest on the mattress. With his legs spread wide, this was as clear an invitation as he could extend in lieu of those pesky words.
“Oh, Cornell,” Rhys said, his voice filled with awe and sweetness. He’d pleased him, Cornell felt, and his brain found peace in that. “Look at you, presenting yourself to me like that. Are you desperate for more, sweetheart? Do you need me?”
He understood, Cornell thought. Rhys got him. Others might’ve thought that he did this to please them, but that was only part of the equation. The other part was that it brought him so much pleasure. He needed to be filled, craved that hard fuck Rhys would deliver. Hell, he’d been desperate for it for months, even before…
Before Rhys, before the accident, before everything had changed. But this, this hadn’t changed. The way his body needed it, wanted it, craved it. Shamelessly. And Rhys understood. He didn’t judge, didn’t think Cornell was a slut for craving cock. Or maybe he did think him a slut, but in a good way. The kind that turned him on because he wanted to use him, wanted to be the person to give him what he needed.
And then finally, he found the words. “I need you,” he managed, his voice sounding awfully close to a sob. “Please, Rhys… Please, Sir. Please.”
His dignity was gone and so was his pride. He had nothing left, not when his body was screaming to be taken.
“Hush now, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Rhys said in that wonderful deep tone, and Cornell’s brain let go. He had him. He had nothing to worry about, because Rhys would deliver.
He moaned when Rhys yanked the plug out of him. No finesse there, no slow and careful steps. It wasn’t even two seconds later that he felt it, the unique feeling of a fat cock head pressing against his hole. His eyes teared up as he bore down and let him in. Rhys knew what he needed.
His body relaxed as Rhys surged in, confidently and deep, bottoming out after seconds. Cornell’s skin tightened with the burn, the tension, the way he had to overrule his body’s instinct to fight this intruder.
He hadn’t fully adjusted when Rhys’s hands came around him, finding his right nipple. A hard pinch that made him gasp, and then a clamp set firmly, causing him to hiss. He didn’t even have time to react before the other one received the same treatment.
“That’s gonna hurt when I fuck you into the mattress,” Rhys said, and Cornell wanted to cry at how perfect it all was. That deep tone, with enough care to know one word would be enough to stop this while at the same time an edge of glee that told him Rhys would love to see him squirm and suffer a little.
He didn’t make Cornell wait either, bending him down with a firm hand on his neck while sliding back out and surging in deep. Corn
ell closed his eyes and opened his mouth, letting out the sounds he knew Rhys would want to hear. As if he could hold them back, the moans, the grunts, the gasps, and hisses. He was an instrument, being played by a master.
His nipples pressed against the sheets as Rhys took him in a steady rhythm, making the clamps rub even deeper against his flesh. God, that would hurt like a motherfucker when those came off. He’d worry about that later. Right now, he had to focus on not seeking friction with his dick, because fuck, he wanted too. He wanted to rub it against the sheets, knowing he wouldn’t need much to fly over the edge.
But Rhys hadn’t given him permission, and he wouldn’t disobey him, not the first time they had sex. He pinched his eyes shut. Rhys was fucking him. That perfect cock that claimed his ass like he belonged there was Rhys’s. Gorgeous, sexy, caring Rhys. His boyfriend. His Sir. His… His everything. He shouldn’t be, he couldn’t be, but he was.
Cornell moaned when Rhys pegged his prostate dead on, unable to resist the urge to rub his leaking cock against the soft sheets. All he needed was a few more strokes, and then…
“You’d better not be coming, boy,” Rhys said, and Cornell stopped.
Rhys had to come first, maybe twice more. Rhys had to give him permission. And so he fought against himself, against his own body that wanted to come so bad. He’d always been good at edging, had been complimented more than once on his ability to stave off his orgasm. Why was he having such a hard time now?
“Oh, my sweet boy, you feel so good. You fit so perfectly around me, and you’re so willing, so eager… God, what a turn on you are, so hungry.”
“For you,” Cornell said. “Hungry for you.”
That was the difference. It wasn’t some random Dom fucking him, some hookup he’d scored. It was Rhys. Perfect Rhys who made him feel all the things, and not just in his body. He fought with himself, his need to please Rhys battling with his need to come.
In the end, Rhys won, and Cornell found himself entering that state where he could take anything. It wasn’t subspace because he was too aware, too present, but it was close, like balancing on the edge of a ravine. One small push and he would fall. Or fly, depending on how you looked at it.
He’d never gotten this close by mere fucking, but he sensed himself creeping near that ledge. Rhys’s cock was perfect, splitting him wide open, invading and occupying his body and his mind. There was so much pleasure, especially when he hit his prostate dead on, but there was still that discomfort, that fight his body put up with the force of Rhys’s thrusts.
He didn’t hold back, owning Cornell like he’d promised him. Not like a fragile old man, like someone who couldn’t take a hard fuck, but like a boy who was being used to pleasure his Sir, his Master, his… And the word escaped Cornell again. It was more. Rhys was more, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.
Rhys sped up, his thrusts growing faster and harder, slapping against Cornell now. His body started to ache, yearn for the release. Or for the last shove before it would fly.
Then Rhys’s hands sneaked around his chest and before he realized it, removed the nipple clamps. The blood rushed back into his buds with a vengeance, and he howled, his vision going black for a second. His balls, completely confused, decided they liked this, and as Rhys grunted with a low, animal-like satisfaction and spasmed deep inside Cornell, he teetered over the edge and fell.
He never reached the ground, his body swooped up in the ecstasy that barreled through him—pain and pleasure in perfect synergy, reinforcing each other until they were undistinguishable, one sensation. He flew. God, he flew.
* * *
One day, he would film Cornell, Rhys decided. He would capture that enraptured look on his face as he found the stars, that blissed out expression that made Rhys want to do all the things to him and then some more. But right now, he would drink it in, drink him in, because he couldn’t get enough of him.
Cornell hadn’t even reacted when Rhys had changed positions, concerned that the prolonged bending over would get too hard on Cornell’s body. Sure, he could’ve stopped, could’ve gathered him in his arms and cuddled, but where was the fun in that? He wasn’t done yet, emotionally or physically. That was one of the advantages of being his age, he supposed. His recovery time was short.
And so he’d lifted him up and had found a comfortable position on a sofa chair, Cornell straddling him in the reverse cowboy position with his back toward Rhys, his head resting against his shoulder. He held him close, but he’d damn well sunk his cock right back inside him with zero intention of leaving. It was deliciously dirty, slowly fucking his own cum out of Cornell’s hole while the man rocked himself on Rhys’s cock as if it was a mechanical bull.
Someday, he’d stay inside him all night, filling him over and over and over again until he was overflowing with his seed. He might have to check with Ford how much fucking someone could take, though. That man had done some intense shit with some of his subs, so if anyone would know, it would be him.
Cornell moaned softly, the sound making Rhys smile. His left hand kept steadying Cornell, who had trouble controlling his muscles, fucked into complete surrender, but his right hand started exploring. He traced Cornell’s lips with his finger, his smile widening as Cornell opened up immediately and sucked his fingers in.
“Mmm, my perfect boy,” he said. “You haven’t had enough either, have you?”
When his fingers were wet, he took them out, and Cornell’s mouth made a plopping sound as he let them go. He found his right nipple, still hot and tender from the clamps. He rubbed it gently, and Cornell whimpered. He shrank back, only to lean back into Rhys’s touch almost instantly. He was at that point where it hurt, but it hurt so good that he wasn’t sure if he wanted more or wanted to stop. And so Rhys rubbed his nipples softly, playing with them until Cornell squirmed on his lap, rocking in uncoordinated moves on his dick.
Rhys was hard, but nowhere near coming, and he could keep this up for a while. He moved his attention to Cornell’s abdomen, caressing and stroking him, finding every dip, every plane of muscle, every soft spot where he wasn’t all that tight anymore. Rhys marveled in the strength of the body that was pressed against his, still so deep inside him that they were basically one.
He found the scars, the old ones and the newer ones, the ones that reminded him of the loss they had endured. It still hurt, even in the midst of this bliss, but it felt sweet too, as if the accident had brought pleasure as well as pain. Maybe, someday, they’d be able to see the good that had come out of it.
He explored farther, lower. Cornell’s balls were hot in his hands, tightening at his touch. He’d look good with a cage, Rhys decided, that beautiful cock locked up for his pleasure, at his mercy. He liked that idea, and Cornell would too, he knew. Not constantly, not all the time, but every now and then when he wanted to drive him crazy, when he needed to hear him beg again. Because he begged so beautifully, and there was such power in that.
Cornell rolled his head, letting out another one of those soft keening sounds. “Rhys…” he pleaded, and Rhys discovered he didn’t mind Cornell hadn’t called him Sir.
“One more time, sweetheart,” he told him, his mouth close to Cornell’s ear. He nibbled on his ear shell, making Cornell shiver. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”
“Always,” Cornell whispered. “I want be good for you.”
“You are,” Rhys assured him. “You’re the best boy I’ve ever had.”
Cornell turned his face toward him and his dreamy smile was a bigger turn on than anything else. “I love your cock,” he said, his smile like that of a cat who had just discovered someone had left a juicy salmon steak unattended on the counter.
Rhys grinned. “I love your ass, so I’d say we’re pretty even.”
He wrapped his hand around Cornell’s cock. It was about the same length as his own, but not as fat, and it fit in his hand perfectly. “I really like the idea of locking your cock up,” he said as he stroked him, too soft and too slow to do mor
e than tease him. Cornell leaned into his touch, arching his back. “Don’t you think it would look pretty in a cage?”
“Yes, Sir,” Cornell said with a sigh, subtly pushing his hips forward.
“Mmm, you don’t sound very excited,” Rhys teased him. “I think you need to show the proper enthusiasm for this idea before I let you come again.”
“Sir…” Cornell grunted in protest, and Rhys could hear he was becoming more alert.
“Don’t you think it would be perfect if I could fuck you for days without you having to worry about accidentally coming? You’d be able to enjoy it so much more if that stress were gone.”
Another grunt. “I’m not so sure about that, Sir.”
“Oh, but there are other benefits too,” Rhys said conversationally, his hand only tightening slightly, with nowhere near the grip or speed that Cornell had to want. “I’d get you one of those cages where you could still do everything else, like bathe or pee.”
It was tiny, the way Cornell’s body jerked at that last word, but Rhys was paying close attention.
“I figured that would get your attention, sweetheart. You like that idea, don’t you? Having to pee through a cage, knowing that I own your cock…”
Another involuntary shiver, and Rhys decided to push still a little further to see what got Cornell excited. The man had a penchant for a little humiliation, he already knew that.
“I think I’d like to see that,” he said, and there it was, the second Cornell’s body froze in response before he controlled himself again. Rhys smiled. He had his answer. “I think someone likes the idea of me watching him pee, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Cornell didn’t answer him, and that wouldn’t do, so he tightened his grip around his dick enough to get his attention. He got a hiss in response, and then Cornell said, “Yes, Sir. I’d hate it, but I’d love it.”
God, he really was perfect, Rhys decided, and as a reward, he started jerking him off for real while increasing he deep thrusts as well. He still took his time until Cornell was pleading with him again, and when he’d begged enough, Rhys finished the job and allowed them both to come again.