A whimper spilled from me, hips rolling, every muscle straining for more. “Want it—God, want all of it?—”
His hand, slick with spit and lube, wrapped around my shaft again, squeezing, milking more pre-come from the tip. The other hand worked at my hole, three fingers plunging in, stretching me with every brutal thrust, the sting and fullness making me gasp. The mouth on my cock never stopped—sucking hard, tongue swirling, savoring the mess, the need, the ache.
Another slap, a little to the side this time, sent me arching, back bowing, ass shoved higher in the air. Amir’s laugh rumbled against my thigh, lips dragging up the length of my cock, teeth scraping gently at the ridge before swallowing me whole again.
Another slick, obscene sound echoed as Amir sucked me in deep, lips sealing around the head and dragging down, slow, relentless, his throat working greedily. My vision blurred, the world reduced to sensation: the heat of his mouth, the rough burn of his stubble against the underside of my cock, the soft drag of his hair against my thigh. The paper beneath me stuck to my knees, the whole table creaking with every shudder and roll of my hips.
The suction intensified, tongue swirling, flattening, teasing the slit, then plunging down again. His hand squeezed tight at the base, fingers wet and relentless, holding me on the edge of disaster and denying any hope of escape. The sounds coming out of me weren’t words anymore—just raw, broken pleas, animal and honest.
“God, you’re leaking for me,” Amir rasped, mouth barely leaving my cock as he spoke, voice reverent and raw. “You’d let me drink every drop, wouldn’t you?” Lips closed around me again, milking, tongue flicking, tasting every trace of my desperation.
His grip shifted, hands strong and sure as he yanked me up, flipping me onto my back in a single, fluid motion. The chill of the examroom hit my skin, and then Amir’s weight settled over me, looming, hungry, caging me in with a single knee pressed to the table between my legs. That dark, amber stare devoured every inch of me—bruised, shaking, sprawled and open.
A slow, deliberate strip tease began. Amir’s hands slid down the buttons of his shirt, popping each one open, revealing bronze skin stretched over hard, lean muscle. That chest, dusted with the faintest line of black hair down the center, led to a taut, defined stomach and those long, graceful arms—every movement precise, controlled, betraying the runner’s build that made him dangerous in any room.
Collarbones caught the light, sharp and elegant, leading to the deep hollow of his throat. That silver watch never left his wrist. His fingers worked the fly of his trousers, pushing them down over hips made for both speed and power, thighs flexing as he stepped out of them. Black briefs clung to his hips, the outline of his cock impossible to ignore—long, thick, heavy, straining the fabric. A bead of pre-come darkened the cotton at the head, marking the spot where he wanted me most.
The scent of him hit next—clean sweat, salt, the faint trace of that spiced cologne he wore. My lungs burned with the need to breathe it in, to bury my face in every inch of his skin, to taste the proof of what he’d become for me.
“Knees,” Amir ordered, voice gone dangerous and soft. “Worship me.”
The command undid me. I slid off the table, dropping to my knees on the cold floor, hands braced on his thighs. My nose pressed to the line where muscle met fabric, inhaling deeply—chasing the warmth, the musk, the intimate proof of his hunger for me. Fingers traced up the backs of his legs, memorizing every line and dip, every muscle carved by years of running and late-night stress.
My mouth brushed the bulge in his briefs, tasting sweat and the first salt of his pre-come through the cotton. Amir’s hand tangled in my hair, guiding, possessive, his body vibrating with the effort not to grind against my face. I mouthed at his cock, nuzzling, licking theoutline, letting my tongue trace the thick vein through the fabric, nose buried deep, inhaling his heat.
“Such a good boy,” Amir crooned, hand tightening at the back of my neck. “You want to taste me? Want to see if you can take all of it?”
“Please.” My lips brushed the waistband, tongue flicking over the bare skin at his hip, savoring the heat, the salt, the sharp edge of stubble where his abs met thigh.
His body responded—cock twitching, the head pushing harder against the wet spot at the front of his briefs. That scent—salt and sweat and male—filled my lungs, made my head spin. My hands slipped up, cupping the backs of his thighs, kneading the muscle, worshipping every inch, every tremor.
The fabric finally peeled away, Amir shoving his briefs down, letting his cock spring free—thick, flushed, heavy, the kind of cock that demanded worship and submission. Veins stood out along the shaft, the head swollen and leaking, already marked with my name. I nuzzled along the base, tongue dragging over the sensitive seam, up to the crown, collecting every drop, savoring the taste like it was the only thing I’d ever wanted.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” Amir groaned, voice gone wrecked. His hands cupped my jaw, thumbs stroking the corners of my mouth, guiding me, letting me decide how much, how fast. I took him in slowly, lips sealing around the tip, letting my tongue swirl, then swallowing down further, feeling the stretch and the ache and the thrill of being filled by him.
A low, broken moan shuddered out of Amir as I worked him deeper, jaw straining, nose pressed to the base, his scent overwhelming, sweat and skin and need. He rocked his hips once, shallow and careful, letting me find my rhythm, his cock filling my mouth and throat.
Hands cradled my skull, gentle but unyielding, setting the pace, guiding me, worshipping me even as I worshipped him. My own cock ached, untouched, leaking onto my thigh, but all I cared about was the man above me—the taste, the heat, the proof of his need.
“Yeah, just like that,” Amir growled, hips twitching, voice vibratingthrough my bones. “You take me so well. Such a fucking gift, having you on your knees, greedy for every inch.”
The hand at the nape of my neck tightened, fingers laced into my hair until my scalp prickled. Amir’s cock swelled in my mouth, salt and skin flooding my tongue. A low rumble of approval vibrated through his chest as my lips stretched wider, my throat working to take him deeper, to give him everything he wanted.
The taste, the weight, the heat of him—nothing existed beyond that, beyond the steady rock of his hips and the scent of him pouring over my senses. My hands slid up, clutching at the hard muscle of his ass, digging in for leverage, pulling him closer as my mouth watered around the thickness pulsing against my tongue.
“Open,” Amir ordered, voice rough, a command that hit somewhere low and dangerous. His grip on my hair forced my face up, cock slipping from my lips, drool spilling down my chin. My chest heaved with want, desperate for the next thing, whatever he would give me.
A string of spit pooled in his mouth, shining in the low light, then dropped heavy and hot to my lips, landing square on my tongue. I moaned, letting it spill across my lips, swallowing it down with a gasp, hungry for anything he’d give me. Amir’s eyes were molten, burning with possession and something that felt dangerously close to worship.
“Take it,” he growled, thumb tracing my bottom lip, dragging spit and precome across the seam, smearing my mouth with his hunger. “You’re made for this - mouth open, drooling, begging for cock.”
A shiver raced through my bones, shame and need knotted tight as he fed his cock back into my mouth. His grip never loosened, guiding my head, setting the pace—slow at first, letting me adjust, then faster, deeper, using my mouth with greedy, measured thrusts. My jaw ached, throat stretched, but I wanted it, needed it, every thrust a claim, every withdrawal a filthy benediction.
Drool spilled out around his shaft, coating my chin, slicking his cock, the sounds wet and obscene. Each time he bottomed out, my nose pressed to the coarse hair at his groin, breathing him in, lungs burning with the need for air and more. My own cock ached betweenmy legs, untouched, leaking, the pulse of want echoing with every thrust Amir gave me.
Another spit landed on my tongue, hot and slick, his thumb forcing it down, holding my jaw wide open as he fucked my mouth. “Show me how much you want it. Show me how filthy you can be, Sebastian. You can take it—know you can.”
Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, from the stretch, the burn, the need to please him. Every gasp, every choke, only made him groan louder, hips snapping forward, cock sliding down my throat until I gagged and then stilled, letting him hold me there, letting him decide when I could breathe.
