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I shifted my hips forward until my ass was hanging off the bench. The position put my upper body at an awkward angle, but that was all forgotten the second Tate put his finger in his mouth, got it nice and slick with spit, removed it, and then sucked my cock back into his mouth. I flinched when I felt his finger brushing over my hole, but I forced myself to remain still. Tate’s mouth was still working me, but he’d eased up a little, probably so that I wouldn’t be too distracted from what he was doing to my ass.
Tate’s finger rubbed over my hole several times, the saliva making the motion smoother. At first I was struggling with the oddness of it all, but then I began to anticipate the little spark that shot through me every time the pad of his finger added just the slightest bit of pressure to my entrance. And when the finger disappeared, I actually started to protest until I saw Tate sucking his finger into his mouth to wet it again.
“Put your feet up on the bench,” Tate urged. As soon as I did, I felt awkward and horribly exposed, but then Tate’s finger was probing me again and he went back to work on my dick. And then Tate’s long, thick finger pressed inside of me and I gasped at the sharp sting of pain that fired through my ass. Tate eased back a little, then pushed in again. He kept repeating the move over and over again, burying more of his finger inside of me each time. At some point the burning had eased and besides the odd feeling of being filled, a lovely sensation had started to build inside of me. Tate was still sucking me so between his mouth and his finger, I was trapped in a vortex of sensation.
Until he did something inside of me that rocketed through my entire body all at once. And I knew without having to ask that he’d hit my prostate. Tate did it again as he increased the suction on my dick and I soon found myself trying to impale my ass on his finger every time he slid it back into me. And if that wasn’t enough, I looked down to where Tate’s lips were wrapped around my cock and nearly came at the sight of him using his free hand to jack himself off. After that, I lost track of everything except the need to come.
“Tate!” I shouted as the pressure in my ass increased exponentially and I had no doubt Tate was now working two fingers in and out of my body. He rubbed over my gland a few more times as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked hard and I was a goner. I shot load after load of cum in his mouth and even as hard as he worked to try and swallow it, some escaped his lips as he parted them when his own release hit him. As we both came down, Tate pulled his fingers from my body and I leaned down and yanked him up and sealed my mouth over his. The water had washed the cum on his mouth away, but I could still taste myself as I licked over his tongue and teeth. When I released his mouth, Tate wrapped his arms around me in a brutal hug and I just held him there like that.
Once my breathing had returned to normal, I took my time washing Tate and myself again and then dried him off and led him back to bed. He was asleep within minutes of me pulling him against my side, but I wasn’t so lucky. I laid there for hours trying to process what I was feeling, but nothing made any sense to me and the lack of control was frustrating. And as the first filtered rays of sun seeped through the window, I gently rolled Tate onto his back and placed soft kisses on his mouth and face until he woke up. I made love to him again, slowly this time and I felt a rush of joy when he whispered that he loved me before falling asleep again. I got him cleaned up and stared at the clock next to the bed, willing it to slow down. But when Tate started to stir against me a couple of hours later, I closed my eyes and didn’t open them again.
Not when he carefully eased himself from my hold.
Not when he got dressed.
Not when he leaned down to brush his lips over mine.
And not even when I heard the front door close and the sound of a muffled engine making its way down the driveway.
* * *
“I don’t recall giving you permission to track my phone,” I murmured as I heard the footsteps approaching from behind me. I was sitting on the dilapidated porch of my uncle’s house staring at the overgrown yard, so my back was to Ronan as he came around the house and up the steps on the far end of the porch. The railing had long ago rotted and collapsed so I had an unfettered view of the woods and mountains beyond as I sat with my back against the wall of the house.
