AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Wyatt's eyes darkened, a warning in his gaze.
But Zach had never listened to warnings.
He spat on his hand and wrapped it around both of their cocks, jerking them together. He jerked Wyatt faster, his own cock throbbing almost painfully as they rubbed together.
There was something so taboo about having these deadly hands wrapped around his vulnerable neck. Wyatt could end him right here if he wanted to. The rush of danger had Zach leaking precome, his thighs trembling. "Do it."
Zach gasped as Wyatt's hand settled around his throat, his pulse thudding rapidly beneath Wyatt's palm. Zach jerked them both faster, dizzy with lust as his airway was constricted.
Wyatt was careful at first, clearly not wanting to hurt him. But the way Zach arched up underneath him, writhing, broke through Wyatt's restraint.
Zach could see the conflict in Wyatt's stormy eyes as his grip on Zach's throat tightened. Zach's vision started to blur at the edges, his head swimming. He could feel his face flushing red, could hear the wet rasps as he struggled to suck in air. And yet his cock only got harder, leaking all over his own stomach.
"Fuck, you're one crazy little thing," Wyatt growled, his voice rough with arousal as his cock throbbed in Zach's grip. Zach just whined in response, too breathless to form words.
He felt like he was floating, suspended in a haze of dizzying pleasure and muted panic. Wyatt's hand around his throat made him feel claimed, possessed. Like Wyatt could end him in a heartbeat if he wanted — but was choosing not to.
Zach stroked them both faster, his movements becoming erratic as his own orgasm built. Black spots danced across his vision and he knew he was close, so close. "Oh fuck, oh fuck—"
Wyatt released his throat and Zach gasped loudly, sucking in huge lungfuls of air. The rush of oxygen straight to his brain sent him over the edge and he came hard, back arching off the bed as he spent himself all over his stomach. Zach gasped, writhing through the intense pulses of his climax.
He had never come so hard in his life, had never felt pleasure that sharp and overwhelming. As he started to come down, chest heaving, he became aware of Wyatt still rocking into his fist, now slick with his own come.
Still floating in a post-orgasmic daze, Zach slid down the bed and situated himself between Wyatt's spread knees. He took Wyatt's thick, dripping cock into his mouth without hesitation, moaning at the musky taste of him — and, now, of himself. He swirled his tongue around the swollen head as he sucked Wyatt deep, hollowing his cheeks.
By now, it was an old friend. He knew exactly what to do to bring Wyatt to his knees.
Above him, Wyatt cursed, his cock throbbing in Zach's mouth. Zach whimpered around Wyatt's length, Wyatt's need only amplifying his pleasure. He sucked Wyatt with single-minded intent, sloppy and desperate, his throat still aching and his head still spinning.
Wyatt came with a loud groan, flooding Zach's mouth with his thick, hot release. Zach swallowed every drop before pulling off of Wyatt's cock with an obscene pop.
He gazed up at Wyatt, lips swollen and shiny with spit and spend, utterly debauched. Wyatt's eyes were full of lust and something almost like pride as he looked down at Zach.
At that moment, Zach had never felt sexier or more powerful.
Zach knelt up slowly after swallowing the last of Wyatt's release, his eyes never leaving Wyatt's. He deliberately dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the excess spit and come, while holding Wyatt's gaze in an almost challenging way. As soon as Wyatt was hard again, Zach wanted that cock inside of him — and for the second round, he'd last longer.
But then Wyatt ruined that fantasy.
Wyatt reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the reddened marks on Zach's pale throat left by Wyatt's own hands. Zach didn't flinch away from the touch, even as his throat throbbed under Wyatt's calloused fingertips. The ache from being choked was one thing — Zach could take pain like that for breakfast, and ask for more.
But the light brush of Wyatt's fingertips was somehow unbearable.
Wyatt's eyes were dark with desire and something unreadable as he traced the marks he had left on Zach's skin. Something deep inside of Zach trembled with every brush of Wyatt's rough fingers over his skin.
"Who made you this way?" Wyatt asked quietly, a note of concern in his gruff voice.
It took Zach by surprise.
And then that surprise transformed into a flare of anger.
Anger at the question, and at the way Wyatt was looking at him — like he was something fragile, something to handle with care.
He didn't want Wyatt's pity. He didn't wantanyone'spity. "You think that's hot pillow talk? It could use some improvement."
"When someone begs me to choke them out like that, it is."
"No-one made me any kind of way. No-one did shit to me," Zach said bitterly. "I'm just like this. If you see some trash blowing down the street, you don't ask about its feelings. It's just trash."
