Page 82 of The Black Table
His hands are quick, fingers deft, as he works the fastening and pulls the pants to my knees, letting my cock spring out. But my gaze is only on his face: determined, but unsure, maybe, hesitant.
A tremor of guilt flickers in my chest even as I feel a drop of precum beading on the tip of my cock.
Has he done this before?
Then he sucks the head into his lips and my muscles buckle.
Never mind. Don’t care.
I’m gone. Obliterated. Lost in a headrush, whited out by pleasure. Struggling to think, tobe, as he pumps up and down my shaft.
My fingers grip the wood for desperate purchase.
It’s…he’s…
I’ve sucked Lanz off God knows how many times at this point. Stroked myself late at night thinking about him, muttered his name as I came into my own hand. But this is…
This is…
His right hand clamps me beneath his sliding lips, and his eyes flutter shut.
Fuck me.
It’sheaven.
I close my own eyes, let my head fall back, a growl I didn’t know was in me rumbling out as he finds a rhythm. It’s so good, too good. I’m both dying for release, needily quivering for it, and desperate for this feeling never, ever to end.
“Unh.” The sound kicks out of my throat, and impulsively, my sword hand shoots out, grips that thick black hair of his.
As I do, he pulls back, just a little.
Looks up at me.
Those eyes.
And then flicks his tongue again.
I’m done.
I explode into his throat, come so hard my thighs are quaking and I nearly slide off the edge of bench, but Lanz doesn’t let me, pushing his left hand to brace my hip even as his right works me, rubbing firm and swift until what feels like every drop has pulsed out of me. Even then, he doesn’t let go, cinching his lips warm and tight as the blood slowly beats out of my cock and back into my body.
I blow out a shaky, shaky breath. Lanz rocks back on his heels,thumbs at the corner of his mouth—a gesture that could get me half-hard again if I weren’t bone-exhausted, and gives me a smile. Nervous, even shaky.
“How was I?”
“Great,” I rasp. “You were…” I blink, hard, press a palm to my damp forehead. Need to catch my breath. “You’ve never done that before?” I pant.
“Nah.” He half-smiles and looks away, shaking his head. “Did okay, then?”
“You…” I can’t form sentences. “Jesus. That was…”
“Nice, right?” He laughs softly. “Always been one of my favorites. Or was before?—”
He catches himself.
Before me. Before this.
I’m suddenly cold. Goosebumps prickle over my naked chest. I tug at the waistband of my fencing knickers, shrug my lamé back into place.
