He moans, his suction harder until I’m coming undone at the seams.
“I’m coming…get me out of your mouth?—”
He takes me all the way back and squeezes my balls, making me burst down his throat. Spurts and spurts of cum fill his mouth, and I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows it all.
But there’s just so much cum, some of it trickles on either side of his mouth as he pulls me out.
Then he climbs up my body, until his face is inches away from mine, his hair framing his features like my fucking fairy prince. My hand goes instinctively around his hip as hesqueezes my cheeks, then he spits my cum in my mouth, and kisses me senseless.
It’s so filthy and fucking hot.
My hand fists in his hair as I kiss him hungrily at first, then tenderly until he’s sighing softly.
He pulls away too soon, lying on his arms on my chest with that glint in his eye. “Happy birthday, baby.”
“Fuck.” I stroke his hip and his hair. “You did that because it’s my birthday?”
“I mean, I’ve wanted to do it for a while, but I thought it’d be a nice way to wake up on your birthday.”
“It’s more than nice.” I lift my head and stroke my nose against his. “But don’t feel the pressure to give me a blowjob.”
“No pressure. I truly enjoyed it.” He rubs his erection on my lower stomach. “Expect to wake up with my mouth wrapped around your cock many times in the future.”
I chuckle. “Give me a second, and I’ll take care of that for you.”
“Mmm. This is enough for me.” He buries his head in my neck and wraps his arms around me.
It’s tight, but not as tight as a year ago. It’s more grounded, more like how Preston has come so far.
It’s not that he’s “fixed” now, but he’s much better at managing episodes instead of drowning in them.
Instead of becoming self-destructive, he’ll call and whisper, “I need a hug.”
To which I abandon everything to be by his side.
And when I hug him, he breathes with me instead of battling through the panic.
He’s no longer hallucinating Dr. Duret or Lenin and, instead, has this Dr. Fenwick, whom he tolerates but still bitches about on the regular.
Dr. Fenwick this and Dr. Fenwick that.
And because he’s stabilizing more, he’s on less destructive meds and no longer goes through the numbing drugs that Julian Callahan used to make for him.
A year ago today, I held him in my arms as he nearly bled out, but now, he’s snuggled in my embrace, breathing steadily, and so veryalive.
It’s been only a year, but he’s come so far, I fully trust he’ll never be in that self-destructive mode again.
Not under my watch.
“You should go to practice,” he mumbles in my neck. “Hayes will drive you.”
“I don’t need a driver. Poor Hayes is bored out of his mind with the driving duties.”
“He’ll cope. Besides, you need some protection from those crazy fans, and Hayes is a trained professional. I swear if one of those fangirls tries to throw herself at you, I’ll be out with knives.”
I chuckle. “They already know I’m taken. I’ve said that a hundred times in interviews.”
“Doesn’t stop them, apparently.” He lifts his head. “The NHL sucks. Why do you have to be such a star?”
