Revived (The Dungeon Black Duology 2)

Soon, very soon, Sean would succumb, desperation thick in his pleas. For Max to go easy. For Max to let him come. But Max would deny his beautiful treasure, would keep banging him indefinitely. Overwhelming him. Making him see, making him understand that keeping up with Max for one hour a week was one thing, but keeping up with him continuously was quite another. Max just had to hold on. To ignore that raging urge. The one that demanded he claim his man. Fill him with every drop of his cum.

But fuck, Sean felt so fucking good beneath him. All that smooth, warm skin, and that tight, silky ass. But Max especially loved the feel of Sean’s legs. The way they gripped so possessively around Max’s waist. As if claiming a kind of ownership of Max, too. Something that should have Max angrily balking, but instead made him want another kiss…

Ugh! No more! Max thrust his dick faster, his face still buried in the crook of Sean’s neck. He refused to let his mind go there, goddamn it.

Sean arched, moaning loudly, sending shivers up Max’s spine, then abruptly sank his teeth into Max’s shoulder. Max tensed, cursing huskily, the sharp pain intoxicating, so much more intense than Sean tugging on his hair. Max’s junk went wild, then his head peaced-out, too, no longer caring about anything but this moment.

Max let go of Sean’s wrist and propped himself on his hands, growling down at his aggressor as he thrust. “You bit your Dom, Sean—without permission—Lucky for you, I fucking liked it.”

Sean stared at him, panting, eyes glazed in pure bliss. “Like it enough to—let us come?”

“Fuck, yeah. Grab your dick, cat, and hold the fuck on.”

He didn’t need to tell Sean twice. Sean was stroking his cock before Max even finished speaking.

“Fuuuuck,” Sean moaned, jacking steadily as Max thrust. “Fuck, Maximus—Fuck—You feel so good.”

Max struggled for breath, watching Sean writhe. Shit, that visual, and that pressure in his groin—engulfing his package, tickling his tailbone. So perfect. Aw, God. They fit so fucking perfect. His pulse raced faster. The pleasure mushroomed. His thighs trembled, then his hips started to buck. Point of no return, officially passed—

“Ah! Aw, fuck!” Sean cried out. “Can I come?!”

Beautiful timing.

“Yes,” Max snarled. He clutched Sean’s pumping fist. “Come, a stór, all over your Dom.”

Sean arched with a shout. Max aimed his cock up and leaned forward. Thick, hot cum instantly pelted his chest, a gesture that swiftly detonated Max as well. That and Sean’s ass gripping his cock. Pressure exploded into ecstasy, lancing to every part of Max’s body. He slammed home one last time, then locked up and unloaded. One powerful pulse after another. Sean must have felt it, too, because the second Max started coming, Sean’s ass started milking him even harder.

Max groaned, muscles taut, relishing every fucking millisecond. Just like he always did with Sean. Sean always made him feel so fucking good. He stared, gaze drunk, at Sean’s face as they came, not wanting to look anywhere else. His orgasm subsided a few seconds later. But as Max fought to catch his breath, Sean grabbed Max’s shoulders and pulled him back down atop him. Sean’s lips found Max’s fast, but this time weren’t urgent. This time they moved slow… and tender.

Max’s head swam in a sated soup of oxytocin and endorphins, feeling no need whatsoever to resist. In fact, in this moment, to do anything but kiss Sean back seemed utterly out of the question. Like he was suddenly a different person, in a different dimension, a million miles away, detached from reality. And yet, when Sean wound his arms around Max’s ribs, Max strangely also felt like he was home. His chest filled with warmth. He deepened their kiss, never wanting to come down from his high.

“Max,” Sean sighed, his breathing still labored. Slowly, he slid a hand into Max’s hair.

Max melted against him, loving his name on Sean’s tongue, loving the feel of Sean holding him, touching him. He moved his lips to Sean’s ear. “A stór,” he murmured. “My perfect little treasure. My chroí.”

Sean emitted a soft sound. “Your kree. What’s that mean?”

Max nuzzled Sean’s hair, its smell so intoxicating. “My chroí… It means my—” Abruptly, he froze, every muscle in his body locking tight. What in the fuck? His heart squeezed urgently. His brain snapped to life. Like big time life. As in, no more stupefying hazes clouding his judgment. Panic tore through him. Had he just been fucking snuggling? And calling Sean—No. Max did not just call him that. His hands went clammy.

Oh, God. He did. He totally just did call him that.

Max’s heart went berserk. All blood drained from his head, as distant memories pounded on his door. No. No fucking way. His pulse spiked faster. That goddamn fucking door was not opening. He shot up straight, stared anxiously at Sean, then pulled his dick free and shoved it away. What in the fuck had he been fucking thinking? Playing like this. Sex outside the dungeon. Was he out of his ever-loving mind?!