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My fingers dig into his hips.
“Harder,” he orders, and I know he doesn’t just mean the punishing thrusts of my hips, so I squeeze my hands tighter, knowing Troy wants me to mark him. That’s our thing, isn’t it? Leaving the evidence of each other behind.
My balls are painfully full. I want to unleash, want to fill him with my cum and then lie in this bed and spend hours looking at his cummy hole.
“Jerk it,” I tell him.
“No. I’m saving my load for you. Come inside me.”
Oh, well, okay. When he puts it that way.
I feel like I’m possessed, like the only way to stay alive is to fuck Troy with all that I have. That when I come inside him, he will officially be mine.
That’s the thought that sends me over the edge, that makes me feel lightheaded, my body tingly as I shoot, filling him, giving him what’s inside me.
“Yes…Atlas…”
“You like that? Like me marking you inside? You can’t deny you’re mine now, T. I’minsideyou.”
My dick spurts again, and then I feel completely wrung dry.
I pull out, just as Troy flips us. He pushes me to my back, then starts furiously jacking his cock.
“Mark me, T. Paint me with your cum.”
His balls draw up, cock spurting, his release shooting out and landing on my chest, my stomach, and then he lets the rest shoot onto my face.
And I smile.
“Lick it off,” he says, and I do, tasting the salty seed that landed on my lips.
“I want that too.” I nod toward his cock.
Troy pushes it into my mouth, and I clean his cum off his dick. Troy falls to the mattress, then smashes his mouth on mine. I lick inside it, and he into mine.
“That was…so fucking hot,” Troy says.
“You know I’m always coming inside you raw now, right?”
“You’d better.”
Before I can reply—
“Atlas! Stop pouting and get down here so the two of you can finish dinner!” Glen shouts up the stairs.
“I already had my dinner—ass and cum,” I tease, and the two of us dissolve into laughter.
25
Troy
Iinspect myfaded hickey in the mirror. Just a subtle pink hue now.
This shouldn’t surprise me. It’s been two weeks since the auction. Two weeks since I proudly took Atlas’s load. But I have to admit, I was disappointed last weekend, when Atlas and I were surviving one of Mom and Glen’s extravagant Thanksgiving parties and no one even noticed what remained of the mark.
Soon, it’ll be gone.
What I need is something permanent. Something that will stay with me so much longer.
