Page 36 of Yours on the Canvas

“Open up, baby.”

His lips instantly part, tongue sliding out, and I huff a low, amused laugh.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” I murmur, pressing forward as I push deeper.

My cock tunnels into his throat until he gives a soft, choked gag. I hold it right there for a heartbeat before pulling back, the wet tip resting against his bottom lip before I drive back down, fucking his throat with a steady, measured pace.

His muffled moans grow louder with every stroke. Thick spit mixed with pre-cum slides from the corners of his mouth, and I watch his fingers twitch in the cuffs, itching to be freed. I keep my eyes on him, waiting for his safe sign—two fingers held up—but my boy holds strong, taking it.

I drive deep down his throat again, my weight settling until my balls brush against his chin as I hold him there, motionless. I watch his hands, scanning for the signal, but his body starts to sink. I give a slight, teasing thrust of my hips, and that’s when I see it. Two fingers, shaky but clear, held up.

Instantly, I pull out of his throat.

I wait, slowly stroking my cock as Jack sucks in a ragged, desperate breath. One word leaves his lips, wet with spit and rough against the quiet:

“More.”

I drive back into him, burying myself deep down his throat. I wrap my hand around his throat, giving it a firm, grounding squeeze. I can feel the thick line of my cock pressing against the skin beneath my palm, and I hear his breathing turn frantic and shallow.

I hold still, feeling him shift slightly closer into the pressure, and I tighten my grip just a fraction, restricting his air completely as I watch him. I keep my eyes locked on his hands.

Two fingers.

Instantly, I pull out, stepping back and letting the air rush back into him.

“Enough. I need to fuck my boy,” I growl.

Reaching for him, I lift him, pulling him flush against my body. His skin burns hot against mine, his head dropping heavily onto my shoulder as I hold him there, his breath coming in ragged pants while my fingers trail slow, heavy lines down his spine.

My rock-hard dick twitches against his, and I thrust forward, our lengths sliding together with a wet, heavy friction.

Slipping my hand down to his lower back, I shove his hips hard against mine, snapping up into him. Jack falls right into the desperate rhythm, and we stand locked together, our cocks grinding in a friction that leaves him whimpering softly against my shoulder.

Pleasure surges through me, my nerve endings humming with that sharp edge of pain and release that only Jack can pull out of me. He grazes his teeth lightly against my shoulder, a quiet, familiar signal that he’s close to the edge.

I step back quickly, my chest heaving as the cool air rushes into my lungs. My eyes lock onto my boy, trembling and desperate where he waits for me.

He whimpers softly, the sound fracturing as he begs me.

“Sol. Please, I need to come. Need you.”

A dark, hungry heat surges through me as I step up behind him. I lean down, my mouth hovering over his ear, and I whisper, “I’m going to break you open and take every inch of you, Jack. And if you even try to pull away, if you even think of holding back a single whimper—I want your groans, your sounds, your breath, and Jack,” I lift him, shifting his weight and placing him firmly on the mattress, “I want your fucking hole.”

I guide him onto his knees, helping him until his head rests against the sheets, his arms still locked in my steel. When he arches his back instinctively, presenting his ass high in the air, a rough moan tears out of me at the sight.

“Perfection, Jack. Fucking perfection,” I whisper, pressing a hot, reverent kiss to his lower back.

Kneeling behind him, I reach down and pull his cheeks apart, dragging my nose slowly up his crease and inhaling the deep, musky scent of him.

With my tongue, I drag a long, wet path from his sac all the way to his tight hole. I circle my tongue deliberately around the sensitive rim, licking him in slow, soaking sweeps until I hear his breathless, desperate cries—half begging me to stop, half pleading for me to keep going, pushing him right to that overwhelming edge where pleasure turns to agony.

His hips rock restlessly against my face, chasing the friction of my tongue.

“Silas… please… so close…” His words are shattered and needy, begging for mercy, begging for me to let him come.

I sit back on my heels behind him, my gaze locking onto the absolute ruin of him. The handcuffs gleam bright against his skin, the black silk blindfold wrapped tight across his face, his hole body slick and wet from my spit.

“Fucking stunning,” I breathe, my voice thick with a raw, consuming awe. My eyes trace the tight lines of his back and thighs. I know I’m completely mesmerized by my dove—by the way he yields, the way he holds himself together just for me, the way he responds to every word. “You are an absolute masterpiece, Jack. Every single inch of you.”