“Wyatt…” John warned.
“This ass belongs to me,” he heard himself say, his orgasmic bliss making him feral—wild—mad. He spread John’s cheeks and licked his cum back into his tight hold. John’s words were garbled and strained, whimpering. “No one else calls you daddy but me.”
He licked, sucked, and tongued.
“No one,” Wyatt declared. “You’re mine.”
John’s body relaxed even further, melting into Wyatt’s face as he ate his ass. He loved the taste of his cum in his body. It was primal and animalistic. And he didn’t fucking care.
Wyatt reached between John’s spread open legs, grasping his soft dick and beginning to gently tug it back to life.
“Lawson—fuck… I don’t think I can…” John murmured weakly.
“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I, daddy?”
“Oh, fuck. Yes.”
“Your good boy…?”
John moaned, hardening in his hand.
“I’m gonna eat your ass and milk your cock until you ruin this fucking couch.”
The sound John made almost sounded like a cry, and yet he nodded, already beginning to leak into Wyatt’s hand.
“That’s it,” Wyatt drawled, pushing open his cheeks with his face, and went to work, taking what was his like a fucking feast.
This went on for a long time, his hand slowly jerking him off while his tongue lazily stroked and entered, sucking on the slick entrance. He pushed his entire face into his ass now, using his chin and stroking him stem to root and over his balls.
John’s breathing was erratic, and he suddenly thrust back onto Wyatt’s tongue, fucking himself on his face. He hummed approvingly, picking up the pace with his cock in his hand, until John was mercilessly grinding into him, letting out the sexiest fucking sounds of pain and pleasure.
Wyatt smothered his face into him and with one final suck of his puckered hole, he pushed his tongue inside him. John let out a cry and miraculously climaxed again, spewing messily all over his fancy couch cushion and onto Wyatt’s fist.
He released him, and John fell into a heap on the ruined couch, looking thoroughly destroyed, and he had never felt prouder in his whole damned life at the glorious sight. Wyatt sat back on his shaking legs, breathing hard, enjoying the view of his work.
“You killed me,” John breathed with a sigh.
“I know. It looks fucking good on you, daddy.”
“Oh God, why does that turn me on so much?” He cringed. “It’s not normal.”
“It is normal,” Wyatt stated, slipping out of his jeans and socks. “Where’s your bathroom?”
John sighed and pointed toward the hallway.
“Do you need help?” Wyatt teased, biting his lower lip.
“Yes,” John said without skipping a beat. He sat up, and Wyatt helped him stand, leaning him against his side as they walked toward the master bedroom.
John’s bathroom was bigger than Wyatt’s room in his apartment. He flipped on the shower and led John inside, letting the warm water soak him before stepping in, grabbing the luxurious bar soap that smelled like John, and working it all over his body, massaging as he went. John braced his hands against the wet tile, letting Wyatt take care of him. He knew John was fading, and quickly went through his aftercare ministrations, wishing he had more time to dedicate to it, but not wanting John to pass out in the shower, either.
Flipping off the water, they toweled off and tumbled together into the king-size bed with navy blue silk sheets. It was rich and soft and cozy. John rolled onto his back, dazedly looking at him from his pillow, eyes already at half-mast and closing.
Wyatt kissed his lips affectionately, a calming peace washing over him.
John, without another word, fell asleep.
He slept beside him for a couple of hours, then woke early and kissed John’s temple, letting his heart whisper the words he wanted to say, and left. He knewstaying any longer wasn’t a good idea simply because he needed time to think about how he was feeling.
