Everything About You

I hadn’t even begun yet and I already wanted to come. To see Tate on his knees, vulnerable and wanting. Hoping for me to give him what he wanted.

Just that alone was more intoxicating to me than every partner I’d ever had since Tate.

Because none of them compared. Not a damn one.

And I hated him for that.

I hated that he was still my weakness.

I hated that it wouldn’t take much for him to turn things around and take over, demanding me to my knees instead. To take over control.

I squeezed the root of my cock hard enough for it to turn purple, making the length bulge and the veins protrude from cutting off the blood flow.

But, damn it, I couldn’t come yet. Not yet.

I needed to show some restraint. Though, right now it was only held by a very thin thread.

Squeezing and stroking at the same time, I worked on milking more precum to the very tip.

When he lifted his hand, my sharp, “No!” got him to drop it back to his side.

The anger with him that I’ve carried around for so long, had been sparked again when I first saw him in the lobby. But now it was fueled with each stroke of my fist until it was an out-of-control blaze burning inside me. Searing me.

I flipped the position of my hand and kept a steady rhythm, from the root to tip, making sure not to knock off the long string of precum hanging precariously from the crown.

His hand jerked and this time I dropped my head and narrowed my eyes, giving him a small shake of my head.

He curled his fingers into fists. Most likely to keep from doing it again.

If he didn’t like what was happening, Tate could rise to his feet and walk away at any time. He didn’t.

He stayed right there on his knees. Watching. His lips slightly parted, his breathing quick. The only time his eyes left mine was when he would drop them to watch me tug on my cock or the pearly string swing like a pendulum.

When he licked his lips again, I almost lost it.

The pressure was building, my muscles became tight. I locked my knees and willed my feet to stay where they currently were.

If I kept my hand on my own cock, I wouldn’t touch him.

If I stayed where I was, I wouldn’t fuck him.

If I only barked out demands, I wouldn’t tell him how he still affected me all these years later.

I hadn’t been this hard in a long time and that scared me.

College had been only yesterday. The moment he broke me only minutes ago.

A time warp between then and now.

But it was now and not then.

It was Tate on his knees, not me.

Even so, it was me who was struggling, not him.

And that pissed me off even more.

I jerked my cock even harder, now more for my own punishment than anything.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue. I want to paint it with my cum.”

Tate shuddered and swayed. When he reached out to catch his balance and his fingers dug painfully into my thighs, I didn’t push his hands away, I didn’t tell him no this time. Instead, I let him touch me. I let him hang on to prove that he needed me.

Even if it was only to keep him upright.

He opened his mouth, extended his tongue, and set his heated eyes on my cock as he waited, anticipated.

The pressure in my lower gut and the tightness in my balls told me I was close.

So damn close.

Then I was there, my cock pulsing in my fingers as I continued to fist it, squeezing and tugging, yanking and pulling, drawing my seed to the surface.

But instead of coming on his tongue and in his mouth, instead of giving him what he wanted, I shot my load all over his face, making him jerk back in surprise.

Except it was too late.

Thick, white stripes dripped down his chin, crossed his cheeks, his nose, painted his lips, and even a few drops had landed on his furrowed brow.

The sight of it was one I’d never forget. Tate on his knees and his face covered with my cum, covered with me.

“Tongue out.” My voice was raspy and raw despite holding back on any words or groans or cries. Or even a last grunt when I climaxed. I had kept it all bottled up inside, since I wasn’t willing to share any of that with him.

Shock filled me when he obediently stuck his tongue out again and he let me use it like a rag to wipe off the dripping tip.

It was so damn hot and it made me want to rip off his swim trunks, bare his ass, bend him over the back of the lounge chair and drive my cock home until the whole city could hear his cries and the slapping of our skin together.