Page 29 of Always Alchemy

Mmm. I love doing this to him so much. I love his musky, masculine taste. The velvety softness of his crown against my mouth and the smoothness of the skin on his improbably hard length. I love that it feels empowering and demeaning in equal measure to be sucking the cock of this powerful, passionate, and endlessly demanding man. Any minute now, he’ll?—

Called it. He rears up onto his elbows so he can reach forward and fist a handful of my hair. He is such a control freak. He can’t bear giving me carte blanche for a moment. I snigger inwardly while I also brace myself for what’s coming.

I can tell he’s trying to hold off. Trying to make this last. Trying not to force me down the whole way. But he fails. It’s with a deep exhale of surrender that he pushes my head down so I’m taking as much of him as I can.

Yes.I open as wide for him as possible, gagging and catching myself as he bottoms out at the back of my throat.

‘Fuuuck,’he grits out as I flex around him.

I love reducing him to this. It turns me on so much to have Anton in my mouth. To bring that animalistic side of him to the fore. I drag my lips up his shaft, swirling my tongue around his tip and inhaling sharply before he shoves me down again.

And so it continues. I work him with everything I have as he begins to spiral out of control beneath me. And when it gets too much for him, when my nakedness and my linguistic skills grow too tempting, he drags me up his body and flips us over, flattening me on the mattress and pinning my wrists above my head with one hand as he stares down at me.

His gaze is beyond hungry. Beyond predatory. I squirm in anticipation and delight, because this is all I’ve everwanted. Surrendering to Anton is my favourite state. The one that feeds my soul. The one I’ll never tire of.

I need it as much as he does.

My legs are spread, my knees raised. He shoves inside me like a man who’s been pushed to the brink, and the feeling of him filling me up is like nothing I’ve ever known. My conscious narrows to him. Inside me. Around me. Above me, ranged over me as the punishing thrusts keep on coming, his eyes all pupil.

If Anton Wolff is a lot in general, then being fucked by him is the most intense experience I could conceive of. Submitting to him so wholly, giving him everything he demands from me, has my arousal spiralling out of control, the ache flooding my nervous system as I keep my eyes on him.

Just the way he loves.

Just the way he’s demanded of me, ever since that first orgasm I gave him on his conference table.

I drink him in through my glazed, love-drunk haze.

‘God,’ I manage. ‘I’m so close. Darling, I’m?—’

He swallows my words with a ferocious kiss, his mouth devouring me hungrily as his powerful body drives into me, over and over, until waves of heat course through me, taking my mind and my body hostage. I arch into him as my orgasm rips through me and obliterates everything.

Almost everything.

‘I love you,’ I pant frantically against his mouth as he follows me over the edge, every muscle in his body going rigid as he pumps his climax into me. ‘I love you so much.’

His mouth finds mine as he releases my wrists and strokes my hair. ‘Fuck,’ he grunts out. ‘That was—Jesus.’

We’re silent for a moment, his lips moving against my hair before he lowers them to my ear. ‘You are my wholeworld, sweetheart,’ he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. ‘Everything. Always.’

He collapses on top of me, and I wrap my legs and arms around him.

He’s my whole world, too.

9

A PISSING CONTEST, BUT WITH CUM

DEX

There are two people in the world who see me clearly.

There are two people who know my real soul, who feel its truth deep in their own souls, who love it for what it is and not for anything it has ever tried or pretended or presumed to be.

And I’m marrying both of them this weekend.

Technically, or in the eyes of the French legal system, at least, I married one of them yesterday afternoon. The civil ceremony between me and Max may have been a privilege I could not have dared to hope for or dream of even a couple of years ago, but wasn’t the main event for me. For any of us.

No. That will come in an hour, in a flowery, shady bower in the gardens of the Hôtel du Cap, where the three of us are staying for the week. Because a civil wedding between two men may be cause for celebration in this new reality of mine, but a humanist wedding between two men and the woman they both love is endgame for us.

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