Page 40 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
Now open to me, I slid down, spreading flat, and licked his pink hole. He moaned, one of his legs slipping from his grasp to land on my shoulder. I pushed it back for him, grinding my cock into the mattress, eyes rolling back from the taste of clean skin and a scent that was his alone. “You’re doing so well,” I said, before sucking at his hole. My balls were aching and heavy. He rocked his hips up, chasing my tongue when I paused, hypnotized by the sight of his tight bud retracting and then blooming for me. Teasing and then begging for me.
“Don’t...stop,please,” he pleaded, spreading himself wider, his dick curving deliciously.
I came at him hard and fast then, pulling a scream from him. My face buried between his cleft, sniffing and licking and sucking and growling. He grabbed my head, shoving me into him further. I raised my hips to resituate my cock so I could gain better friction from grinding against the cool silk sheets.
Phoenix could no longer support his legs, and with them down, my tongue lost some of its access. I slipped my hands beneath him and sucked a hickey right onto the meaty part of his ass where taint met slit. “Please, please, please…” he chanted.
“Just...a little more, please,” I answered, and he fed his scream into the crook of his elbow when I nearly flipped him over in my effort to inhale the bottom of his tailbone.
I got to my knees, lowering his body and dragging my forearm across the wetness on my lower face. “Are you okay?” I said through a husky voice.
“Yes, but please do something,” he gritted out. Our gazes dropped to his cock, the skin at the crown so tight it glistened. With one slicked finger I probed at his entrance as I took hold of his leaking dick. Precum immediately shot through the tip. “I won’t last,” he warned, sweat peppering his upper lip.
“You will, sweetheart.” I didn’t grip him tight enough to spur an orgasm, but enough to heighten his arousal. To loosen him further. Two fingers disappeared inside of him, and when he bore down instinctively, wetting his top teeth with his tongue without a thought for the seductive sight he made, my body jerked, and I squeezed my root as I nearly came all over the both of us. “Mmmm.” I gave my head a hard shake, regaining some control.
My fingers brushed incessantly along his gland, and he whined through clenched teeth, his crown turning the same shade of purple as mine. Like someone had grabbed it by the throat and cut off all circulation.
“God!” he shouted. I stalled with three fingers inside him now, waiting for him to get acclimated, waiting for him to come down a notch. “Bash,” he panted, his abdominal muscles flexing as he raised his head off the mattress. “Please. I’m ready.”
“Do you see this?” I asked, letting go of his dick to hold my own. “If you’re not ready, I’ll end up hurting you. That’s not the goal, so we take our time.”
Phoenix’s head fell back to the pillow, and he let out a frustrated growl, tugging on his own hair. His precum ran down his cock like an erupted volcano, and I used a finger to sop it up before bringing it to my mouth.
After four fingers went in and out of him smoothly, I stretched out over him and brought my wet cock to his hole. “Easy,” I said out loud to myself, taking one breath in and pushing two out. Phoenix did the same. The head of my cock breached him easily, but the neck was met with opposition. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me in.” I wrapped a hand around his throat, applying faint pressure. His mouth opened, his eyes grew glassy, and I urged in another inch without issue. “My hands are busy, so I need you to take hold of yourself, but stop stroking when you feel your balls draw tight.” I gained another inch. “That’s it.”
“More,” he said, color spreading over his body.
“God you’re beautiful like this.” I had gotten half my cock in when he began to tremble. “I think that’s enough for now.” My thrusts were slow, sensual. I made love to him without bottoming out. Anymore and I’d tear him in two. I kept my hand at his windpipe and kissed him with all my heart. “Are you ready?” I asked, when his breathing became sporadic.
“Yes.”
“Move your hand faster. Squeeze yourself harder. Let go, Phoenix.”
He did as instructed, and while half my length slid in and out of him leisurely, my hand pistoned near the base of my cock to compensate for having to hold back. “Bash!”
We came together, my hot cum coating the inside of his hole. The room filled with the wet sounds of my cock pushing through my spent seed, and his splashing over our chests.
After, I carried him to the bathroom and cleaned him, kissing his slacked lips. I listened to him breathe, our bodies cooling, gooseflesh rising along his arms as they clung to me.
“I…” He choked on whatever he’d been about to say, tripping over his emotions. “Sorry. It’s just a lot.” He pressed his head to my chest.
“I know.” I brought his face up with a finger to his chin. He’d come back to the place he once shared with his father. A place that hadn’t changed although his life had drastically. A place he associated with his innocence, and now a place where he’d lost the last of it. His eyes filled with tears. “How many people can say that they took the time to be loved first, Phoenix?”
“You…?” He cried freely now.
“Yes, Phoenix. I do.” I picked him up and cradled him to me, walking into the living room and gingerly laying him down on our makeshift bed near the fire. I pulled him into my side, and we drifted off peacefully to the sounds of the storm outside.
Settling onto the top step of the porch and setting down my hot cup of cocoa—which Phoenix insisted needed marshmallows—I picked up my new journal and skimmed a finger over the inscription:From the boy who loved Wicked.
I retrieved the pen from its slot along the spine, and my heart warmed at the same engraving along the steel encasing. I sought out Phoenix who busied himself making snow angels in the yard, something I declined to participate in. A memory resurfaced from my childhood of me staring out of the arched windows of our second floor library, watching the neighbors’ children do the same in the distance. Of resting a palm against the glass hoping to feel their jubilation before being called downstairs by Mother to go over my studies with my tutor.
Opening to the first page of my journal, I catalogued everything about Phoenix in the snow. The way the sun highlighted his hair, painting a clear picture of the golden-haired boy he had been as a child. The way it transformed his eyes from a blue at the bottom of a gas flame, to a heavenly shade found only in the sky. And his smile that touched his ears whenever he caught me marveling at him. Phoenix was like a flower fully bloomed in the summertime. Petals stretched and welcoming.
Just then, something cold hit the side of my head, leaving me sputtering and shaking off the pages of my journal and setting it aside. Laughter came from the right of me. “Did you throwsnowat me?” I asked incredulously, standing and brushing the wet, cold whiteness off me.
“It’s called a snowball, Bash,” he said, out of breath. He curled into his angel, hands clutching his stomach.
I gawked with my arms held out at my sides, unsure of whether to be horrified, shocked, angry, or plain cold. The budding annoyance drained from me when his laughter dried up and a true look of worry spread across his handsome face. I made my way down the stairs, gathered snow into my hands and launched it at him.
