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A possessive growl burbles in my throat. “I want to suck you. It’s all I’ve thought about since your little speech in the kitchen. I want to feel your cock heavy on my tongue, lick and suck you until you ache. Make you crazy with my mouth, bringing you right to the edge, over and over, until the only sounds you can make are whimpers of frustration. Then I’ll tease and stroke you until your entire world is my mouth and your need to come. And when I finally let you, it’s gonna hurt so good, baby.” Jocelin whimpers and ruts against my thigh. I nuzzle his ear, nipping at the lobe. “You gonna make it upstairs, or you want me to suck you right here?”
“Here.” Jocelin grasps my shoulders and digs his fingers into the muscle, pushing me onto my knees. With quick movements, I have his belt undone and the front of his jeans open. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband, I shove his jeans and boxer briefs past his hips to pool at his feet. He kicks them across the room, and I run my hands up his thighs, wrap my fingers around the base of his cock, just behind his balls, and swirl my tongue around the already leaking head. He leans against the back of the couch and sinks his fingers into my hair as I suck him into my mouth, alternating between light licks at the tip and taking him deep until I’m nuzzling against his tight abdomen, the tip of his cock just pushing into my throat. The sounds he makes are so fucking sexy, I have to squeeze myself through my jeans just to get a little relief.
When I swallow, Jocelin shouts, his hips thrusting forward, shoving his cock a little farther down my throat. The unexpected move makes me gag, and I slowly pull back, increasing the suction as I do. Jocelin perches on the back of the couch, his knees wobbling as he gasps for air. He’s a mess, but not quite where I want him, so I push forward again, sliding my lips up and down his cock, listening to his beautiful gasps and whimpers. When he holds his breath and pulls my hair, I release him, sitting back on my heels. He whines so prettily.
“Shhh. It’s alright.” I slide my hands up his muscular thighs, caressing his hips and flat stomach, letting him stagger back from the edge. He yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the couch, and locks his eyes on me, silently begging for what he needs. I look up his long, lean body, lightly pinch his nipples, and glide my hands across his chest as I tuck my nose into the crook of his hip and nuzzle his balls. His musky scent is intoxicating. I want to stroke myself, get off, but I want to get him off more. So I ignore my aching cock and gently suck one of his balls into my mouth, swirling my tongue along the soft skin, loving the velvety texture. I give a soft tug, then release him, mouthing and nuzzling against his sack. He moans and slides off the couch, dropping to his knees, his legs splayed wide, giving me more room to play. “Mon dieu, chéri, your beard feels so good.”
His voice is rough and blissed out, but I’m slightly disappointed he can still think in English. I engulf his cock in my mouth and hollow my cheeks, stroking him firmly with my hand and lips. Soft moans and heavy breathing accompany his ever-tightening grip on my hair. “Shit. Oh,shit.” A tremor ripples through his torso as he thrusts into my mouth, and I quickly release him. He wails plaintively. “Gunnar, please!Mon dieu. Je veux jouir.”
I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I can guess. “No. Not yet.” Again, I bury my face in the hollow between his thigh and cock, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, you smell incredible.” My cock throbs in my jeans, the ache intensifying as I watch him. His head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, his plump lower lip caught between his teeth as he whimpers. “You look so fucking good, babe. God, I’m so hard for you.” I drag my nose up the side of his shaft and suck him between my greedy lips, my mouth soaking his beautiful cock with every dip of my head. I slide a hand up his thigh and hook his balls between my fingers, pulling slowly. Jocelin’s whole body quivers, and he groans from deep in his chest.
“Please, Gunnar. Please.” He sounds wrecked, so close, and I swear, one or two strokes is all I need to come right now, too.
“Please what, baby? What do you want?”
He whines as his hips strain against my hand. “Je veux jouir. Let me come,chéri. Please.” He looks at me, his eyes glassy and desperate. “I need to come.”
I wrap my arm around him, gently easing him onto his back, then hook one of his legs over my shoulder. “Fuck, babe, you’re gorgeous.” Tenderly kissing along his inner thigh, I lightly nibble the firm muscle of his ass before slowly pushing his legs up and apart, flicking my tongue across his hole.
Jocelin inhales sharply, groaning as he squeezes his eyes closed and spreads his legs wider.
I lick from his hole to his balls before burying my face between his cheeks, sucking and teasing him until he’s writhing against my face, tugging on a fistful of my hair. When I press the tip of my tongue into his hole, his grip tightens and his hips shake.
“Gunnar.” I kiss across his firm cheek and along his inner thigh. “Pleeeeeeeeaaaaase!” His voice cracks as he sobs breathlessly, and I relent.
“Alright, baby. Come.” I swallow him down, sliding a finger into his hole to stroke his prostate, and he wails, his body arching off the floor. He grips my arm with one hand, pulling my hair with the other as salty warmth fills the back of my throat. I swallow until he collapses onto the floor, a wrung out, sweaty mess.
Crawling over his beautiful body, I lower my mouth to his, kissing and biting his slack lips. “Fuck, you look so good right now.” I rest my weight on my elbow and brush the hair from his sweaty face, gently stroking his cheek.
He opens his eyes and smiles up at me. “You are a sadist.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He huffs out an exhausted laugh and curls into me. I drape my arm over him, pulling him close. “How are you feeling?”
“Hmmmm. Sleepy.” He frowns. “Cold.”
“Well, you do have time for a nap before dinner, if you’d like.” Jocelin groans, struggling to push himself into a sitting position. I help him up, then gather his clothes. “If you want, I can start a fire, and you can doze on the couch.”
He’s an adorably uncoordinated mess, so I help him dress, then head to the fireplace to demonstrate my fire-building skills. He flops onto the couch, tucking a throw pillow under his head, and snuggles against the cushions. Leaning down, I kiss his hair before grabbing the blanket from the back of the armchair, covering him with it. He’s mostly asleep by the time I head back into the kitchen to clean up. I’m still half-hard, but in no hurry to do anything about it. The slight discomfort is worth seeing Jocelin that wrung out and blissful.
Less than fifteen minutes later, I have the kitchen back in order and another glass of wine in hand. I settle on the couch, pull Jocelin’s feet into my lap, put Top Gear on the TV, and relax, unable to think of a better way to spend an afternoon.
29
Jocelin
Islowlywaketothe sound of the TV and the delicious smell of food. My stomach rumbles, and I stretch, groaning as I push my hands above my head and straighten my legs, my feet unexpectedly hitting against something solid.
“Oooff!”
My eyes fly open, and I quickly retract my limbs as Gunnar rubs his stomach. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Chuckling, he reaches for my feet, pulling them back into his lap. “I was until I got two feet in the stomach. Feeling better?”
I stretch again, this time more carefully, and nod. “Yes. I feel very good. But I’m starving!” My stomach growls loudly. “When are we eating?” I slip my toes under Gunnar’s shirt and sigh contentedly as his body heat warms my feet.
He squawks in protest but rubs them through the blanket and his shirt. “Who knew you were such a hedonist?”
“Thankfully, I have a wonderful boyfriend who indulges me.”
