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Letting my hands roam free, I brush my fingers down his sides and grip his hips as he slowly grinds against me. Our erections slide together, sending me into a frenzy. The friction alone is driving me to the brink of insanity. Panting, I reach between us and wrap my hand around both of our cocks, squeezing softly as I drag my thumb across our tips, smearing and swirling our pre-cum together.
When he breaks our kiss and pulls away, I release my grip and reach up, sliding my thumb into his mouth.
“Fuck I love the way we taste together,” he groans, swirling his tongue around my thumb, sucking in as I drag it out over his lips, and down across his chin.
“Let me make you feel good,” he whispers as he pushes my hand away and lowers his lips to my chest. As he crawls down the bed, positioning himself between my legs, he trails soft kisses down my stomach. Across my pelvis. Lingering over my hips. Tracing every inked mark with his tongue and dragging his teeth across my skin. Devouring the pieces of self hatred that I tried to tattoo away years ago.
My heart beats frantically as I fight the urge to push him away, but the way his hands feel roaming all over me, the way his lips feel as they graze across my pelvis, it’s all got me so upside down.
It’s tender, and intimate, and I’ve never let anyone touch me this way.
“Riot,” I choke out, trying not to cry.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Riot should be face down, ass up, whimpering and begging me to let him come while I turn his ass cheeks red.
This is why I don’t fucking spend the night.
“Hey,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across the tip of my cock. “Get out of your head baby.”
Throwing all common sense out the window, I look down at him, his wide baby blues saying so many words that I’m not yet ready to hear. Conveying more emotions than I have the capacity to accept.
Smiling, he flicks the tip of his tongue across the head of my leaking cock, and my toes fucking curl. Swirling his tongue around the head, he slowly lowers his mouth down my length, taking all of me. Not stopping until I’m deep in his throat and his nose rests against my pelvis.
Slowly he moves his head up and down, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks me in, making my back arch off the bed. My vulnerable emotional state combined with the velvet feel of his tongue as his mouth envelops my dick, has me on the precipice of falling apart entirely.
It’s not like it’s the first time he’s blown me, however usually blow jobs from Riot typically consist of me fucking his face until he can’t breathe. But this is real, it’s raw.
It’s too fucking much. I can’t process it, but I’m also utterly powerless to stop it.
“F-fuck, baby boy, what are you doing to me?” my chest heaves and I grip the sheets, while he sucks me down his throat. With one hand, he massages my balls, swiping his finger across the sensitive space behind them, sending goosebumps across my flesh.
That’s when I whimper.
Whimper? I fucking whimpered? Who am I right now?
“Mmmhmmm,” he moans and groans around my cock, the vibrations causing my balls to tighten. Tingling as I’m teetering over the edge. My orgasm is lingering below the surface, a volcano ready to erupt.
“B-baby, I, I, c-come, I’m, oh god,” I mewl and writhe beneath him as he sucks harder until my release spurts down the back of his throat. He keeps sucking me through my orgasm, draining every last drop of cum from my cock, making my legs tremble.
Gripping the base of my slowly softening erection, he drags his tongue across every inch of my cock, lapping up all traces of my release. When he relaxes his grip, he kisses his way back up my chest, and I stare at the ceiling, trying to decipher this really messy feeling that’s got a vice grip on the organ in my chest.
A tear rolls down my cheek, but it’s not from the nightmares anymore. It’s from reality. From this very moment, where I’m feeling things far too intense to wrap my head around. Straddling my waist, he leans into my lips, capturing them between his own, sucking the air from my lungs. He takes it all. Every last particle, until I need him in order to breathe.
And I let him.
“Zeke?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, running my hands up his back, holding him close, not willing to part with the way he claims my mouth with his.
“The nothing?”
“It’s gone, baby boy,” I whisper, and he grins against my lips, devouring my revelation as though it sets him free.
Riot West crashes through all my walls but as the euphoria starts to wane, I take note of the wreckage surrounding me, and all I want to do is run.
Chapter thirteen
Riot
