A garbled jumble of sound leaves Atlas, as if he’s attempting to speak but can’t push the words out past my hard dick or his own pleasure. But I can see his hand stuttering, his lips lifting slightly as he chases the release I can see he’s close to achieving.
“Are you going to be a good boy and come? Are you going to explode all over your hand just from knowing how filthy you’re acting?” My voice is deep and desperate over my panting, my own hips faltering as the pleasure at the base of my spine builds, and my balls draw up tight.
Atlas is sobbing now. His eyes continuously pour, his brows furrowed tightly as he whimpers and chokes. I canseehis hard length pulsing in his palm, almost purple with how turned on he is.
“Let me tell you something,” I rush out, knowing I’ll blow at any moment now. “I’ll never understand why you’re so quick to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but I admit that you’ve never looked so pretty, so pure as you do now, all wet and fucked out just from tasting my cock. No one, Atlas. No one has ever looked as beautiful as you do.”
With a muffled, desperate cry, Atlas comeshard. His mouth stops sucking as he falls forward, further into me, and his hand milks his dick thoroughly.
It doesn’t matter, though. Even without the suction of his lips and cheeks, the contraction of his throat and the visual of his orgasm are enough.
I follow after him, hearing his choked gasp as I release down his throat.
“Oh, fuck.Oh, god.I’m going to fill you up, little bunny, just like last time.” I’m groaning and rambling, clutching the back of his head and leaning over it as he swallows andswallows.
By the time I come down and have the common sense to pull from his throat, a thin line of come has begun to trail down his chin.
As soon as he can breathe, he’s coughing loudly, gasping for air. I fall to my knees in front of him, careful not to rest my knees on his drying arousal, and pet his wet cheek with one hand as I clean up his chin with the other.
Atlas leans into my touch as I stuff my thumb into his mouth, feeding him the rest of my come.
“Atlas,” I murmur, and his eyes open to meet mine. “Do you think they’ll know?”
“Huh?” he questions, his throat fucked and his voice strained.
“When you go back upstairs, for the next day or so, do you think your family will know that my come is resting in your stomach?” As if to prove my point, I rest my palm over his lower stomach, pressing in softly.
Atlas makes a small, startled noise.
“I… Kiss me, Julian,” is all he says.
So I do.
I press my lips to his quickly, feeling the way he opens up for me. As if it’s natural, a practiced motion, though I know it’s not. OnlyIhave kissed these lips. Only me.
I swallow each soft, sweet sound he makes, letting my fingers memorize the feel of his back, his shoulders, his throat.
Then, because I know we’ll need to split up for bed soon and I feel like I haven’t done enough,claimedenough, I tilt his head back and spit directly into his waiting mouth.
Atlas groans, his eyelids falling shut as he swallows greedily.
“Good boy,” I whisper, kissing his jaw softly.
“I am?” Atlas asks quietly.
“Such a good, good boy.”
To nobody’s surprise, he grins.
Atlas
21
I CANNOT COUNT THEnumber of harsh, red scratches that cover my chest. A few small, purple bruises litter my hips and remind me of just how rough the incubus was last night.
I’m used to being marked; it always scratches me at least a little. But lately… It’s been especially intense. It also spoke to me for the second time. I can still hear it, low and distorted in my ear.
“Totus meus es, dulcis angelus.”
