don’t finish,” he warned, warmed by Owen’s chuff of air at the sting.
“When I finish, you’ll know it,” Owen snarled, and Malcolm rewarded him with a blow to the side of the red bloom already there. New pain, surprising, and Owen staved off a moan. Malcolm stroked the new place too, gently, wanting to kiss but not wanting to give up his crop.
“You’d better make me know it,” Malcolm purred, giving the dildo a gentle flick. A moan escaped and Malcolm moved the crop to the place he’d smacked twice and caressed that too. He soon found his own rhythm, and an odd playfulness. It seemed much less about control now and far more about proving to Owen that it could be as nuanced and fun as being draped over his legs and taking the spanking that way. And a crop held a surprising range to the uninitiated: from the softest taps that only really registered because of the hyper-awareness the body kicked into when it came to pain, to the searing shock of a hard snap. He played with what Owen was expecting and where, using surprise to his advantage, stopping when Owen moaned because that meant he was too close to the edge.
It wasn’t until he accidentally brushed his own cock with the handle of the crop and found himself wet and dripping that he realized how close to the edge he was, how badly he was in need, and his next touch on Owen’s arse was not with the crop but with his cock, held in his fist, wet and cold on Owen’s hot flesh.
“I’m so close,” he confessed, loving the way Owen strained backward to meet him. “So close. Do you want me to fuck you? I’ve got a condom right here. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you.”
“Argh!” Owen was a mass of shaking, barely-there control. “You had a plan, Malcolm, stick to it!”
“Why?” Oh, he was so close. Just a few movements and he’d be buried deep in Owen’s ass. He’d loved it there but . . . but . . .
“Because I want to taste your cum!”
Malcolm shuddered. No snark in Owen’s voice, no play, just hunger, and Malcolm barely made it over the bed to thrust inside Owen’s wide, wet mouth. Owen met him with the same need, and his brain shut down almost completely, nothing but Owen around him and sucking and teasing with his tongue, eagerly bobbing up and down on his cock.
God, he thought, half coherent, when he realized that yes, he really was going to come in Owen’s mouth, this wasn’t safe, but it was damn near irresistible, given how well everything clicked. Nothing with Owen rang anything less than true, nothing that got in the way, just one glorious rush of supercharged need, and once that barrier was done, he just couldn’t be arsed to hold back. He came hard, tunneling vision and all, barely managed to not grab Owen’s head and crush him to his body, shooting his load and, oddly, strangely aware that the mouth and throat and tongue around his cock belonged to somebody he liked and whose name he actually remembered.
He fell back, or was he being pushed? It so didn’t matter, not when that orgasm was lighting up every nerve ending in his body, and he couldn’t help but laugh when Owen’s weight landed on top of him, pushed his legs up and apart and then pushed a slick, condom-covered cock inside his arse.
Thank God for just that little bit foresight, because he wouldn’t have been able to make Owen stop to put a condom on. He arched and grimaced, tender from his orgasm, but he wouldn’t let that stop him, or Owen, now.
Malcolm could do very little but hold onto Owen as he ploughed his arse, over and over, with more stamina than his desperate speed and strength suggested. Shit, that boy could deliver a pounding he would struggle to forget, ever, and that was probably the biggest thing—he really wanted to remember this. Owen. Them. All of it.
He almost came again when Owen came, just from that burst of intimacy, the joy and passion on Owen’s face, and he pulled Owen down and kissed him breathlessly while Owen’s cock pumped
“When I finish, you’ll know it,” Owen snarled, and Malcolm rewarded him with a blow to the side of the red bloom already there. New pain, surprising, and Owen staved off a moan. Malcolm stroked the new place too, gently, wanting to kiss but not wanting to give up his crop.
“You’d better make me know it,” Malcolm purred, giving the dildo a gentle flick. A moan escaped and Malcolm moved the crop to the place he’d smacked twice and caressed that too. He soon found his own rhythm, and an odd playfulness. It seemed much less about control now and far more about proving to Owen that it could be as nuanced and fun as being draped over his legs and taking the spanking that way. And a crop held a surprising range to the uninitiated: from the softest taps that only really registered because of the hyper-awareness the body kicked into when it came to pain, to the searing shock of a hard snap. He played with what Owen was expecting and where, using surprise to his advantage, stopping when Owen moaned because that meant he was too close to the edge.
It wasn’t until he accidentally brushed his own cock with the handle of the crop and found himself wet and dripping that he realized how close to the edge he was, how badly he was in need, and his next touch on Owen’s arse was not with the crop but with his cock, held in his fist, wet and cold on Owen’s hot flesh.
“I’m so close,” he confessed, loving the way Owen strained backward to meet him. “So close. Do you want me to fuck you? I’ve got a condom right here. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you.”
“Argh!” Owen was a mass of shaking, barely-there control. “You had a plan, Malcolm, stick to it!”
“Why?” Oh, he was so close. Just a few movements and he’d be buried deep in Owen’s ass. He’d loved it there but . . . but . . .
“Because I want to taste your cum!”
Malcolm shuddered. No snark in Owen’s voice, no play, just hunger, and Malcolm barely made it over the bed to thrust inside Owen’s wide, wet mouth. Owen met him with the same need, and his brain shut down almost completely, nothing but Owen around him and sucking and teasing with his tongue, eagerly bobbing up and down on his cock.
God, he thought, half coherent, when he realized that yes, he really was going to come in Owen’s mouth, this wasn’t safe, but it was damn near irresistible, given how well everything clicked. Nothing with Owen rang anything less than true, nothing that got in the way, just one glorious rush of supercharged need, and once that barrier was done, he just couldn’t be arsed to hold back. He came hard, tunneling vision and all, barely managed to not grab Owen’s head and crush him to his body, shooting his load and, oddly, strangely aware that the mouth and throat and tongue around his cock belonged to somebody he liked and whose name he actually remembered.
He fell back, or was he being pushed? It so didn’t matter, not when that orgasm was lighting up every nerve ending in his body, and he couldn’t help but laugh when Owen’s weight landed on top of him, pushed his legs up and apart and then pushed a slick, condom-covered cock inside his arse.
Thank God for just that little bit foresight, because he wouldn’t have been able to make Owen stop to put a condom on. He arched and grimaced, tender from his orgasm, but he wouldn’t let that stop him, or Owen, now.
Malcolm could do very little but hold onto Owen as he ploughed his arse, over and over, with more stamina than his desperate speed and strength suggested. Shit, that boy could deliver a pounding he would struggle to forget, ever, and that was probably the biggest thing—he really wanted to remember this. Owen. Them. All of it.
He almost came again when Owen came, just from that burst of intimacy, the joy and passion on Owen’s face, and he pulled Owen down and kissed him breathlessly while Owen’s cock pumped
Similar Books
