He tells me.
“Good.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, there.”
His hand tightens in my hair.
“Use your tongue.”
“Flatter.”
“Fuck.”
I'm kneeling on a bad rug in a rented room with Maddox Creed's cock in my mouth. He's sayingfuck.He's sayinggood.He's sayingthere.Every word is a small instruction. I'm following every instruction. Every time I follow an instruction his hand in my hair goes half a degree tighter. My jaw is open and wet. My chin is wet. I have never been more turned on in my life.
I'm achingly hard.
Hard in my jeans in a way I haven't been hard before. I've been hard alone in my bed thinking about the sentencethe only person who fucks Theo is mefor an entire night. I've been hard alone in my bed thinking about Maddox Creed's hands on a bar stool. I've been hard. I've handled myself. None of it is this. This is a different kind of hard. A hard that has nowhere to go and I don't want it to go anywhere. I don't want this to end. My jaw is starting to ache. My eyes are starting to water at the corners.
He pulls me off him by the hair.
I gasp.
“Breathe,” he says.
I breathe. Four in, seven hold, eight out.
“Good boy.”
He lets me breathe. He holds my head back, not hard, just enough to let me see him. He looks down at me. His cock is wet from my mouth. The air on it is cold. I know it's cold because his whole body does a small thing when it hits the cold.
“Again.”
I open my mouth again.
He fucks my throat.
His hand is a fist in my hair. He uses the fist. He moves my head where he wants it. He takes what he came here to take. My jaw aches. My throat opens because it has to open. My eyes water. Spit runs down my chin onto his fist at the base of his cock. He keeps going. The sounds coming out of him aren't words. They're low in his chest. They're furious.
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, look at you.”
“Open.”
“Wider.”
His thumb presses the hinge of my jaw.
“That's it.”
“That's my good fucking boy.”
I gag on him.
He doesn't slow.
He adjusts my head half an inch and fucks deeper. My throat closes and opens. My eyes stream. My hand is flat on his thigh and I'm not tapping. My hand doesn't want to tap. I'm kneeling on a bad rug with Maddox Creed's cock in the back of my throat and I have never in my twenty years been closer to a thing I wanted.
