He puts his hands behind his back.
"Good boy."
His pupils blow wider.
I take myself in hand again, run the head of my cock along his bottom lip. Smear precum there. He opens his mouth without me asking. Pink tongue out, waiting. Christ, the picture he makes—on his knees between my thighs, hands behind his back, mouth open and eyes up like he's been waiting his whole life to be told what to do.
"Just the head first, sweetheart. Soft. Show me how pretty you can be."
He leans in. Closes his lips over the head of my cock. Sucks, gentle, the way I told him to. His tongue works the slit. He moans around me—deep, soft, almost not aware he's making the sound—and I have to grit my teeth.
"That's it. Just like that."
His eyes flutter shut.
"Eyes open, baby. Look at me while you do it."
His eyes come back up. Wet at the corners. Lashes dark. He's never been this open in his face before, never let me see this much of him at once, and I'm holding my own composure with both hands.
"Good. So good for me."
He whimpers around my cock at the praise. The vibration goes through me.
"More now. Take more. Slow."
He takes more. Lets his mouth slide down my length, slow, throat working as he goes. He gets about halfway downbefore he pauses, eyes wide, breathing through his nose. I smooth my thumb across his cheek where my cock is pushing against the inside of it.
"That's plenty, sweetheart. Don't push. Just stay there."
He stays there.
"Hollow your cheeks for me."
He hollows his cheeks. The pressure goes through me hot and bright. I exhale slow.
"Fuck, baby."
He hums—pleased, proud, the small private sound he makes when he's been told he's done something well—and the vibration travels up the length of me and lodges in my spine.
"Now move. Slow. You set the pace. Take what you can take."
He moves.
He pulls back almost off, sucks at the head, sinks back down. Again. Halting at first, finding the rhythm. He's never had me in his mouth like this—never had me alone, never had time, never had me telling him what to do this clearly. He's a quick study. He figures out what makes me catch my breath. Figures out what makes my hand tighten in his hair. Gets bolder. Takes me deeper. His hands are still locked behind his back the way I told him, even though I can see his arms shaking with how badly he wants to touch.
"Look at you. Such a good boy. You like this, don't you?"
He nods around me. Eyes wet.
"You like being on your knees for me?"
He nods harder. Makes that pleased hum again.
"Tell me, sweetheart. Off for a second. Tell me."
He pulls off, slow, a string of spit connecting his bottom lip to the head of my cock for one obscene second before it breaks. His mouth is wrecked. Lips swollen and slick.
"I love it," he breathes. Hoarse. "Atlas—I love—"
