Page 28 of Collin: Episodes 7-9
Collin laved at Damian with his tongue. He moved his head up and down, careful of his teeth. Above him, Damian’s breathing grew labored.
Footsteps approached from behind. Mr. Reevesworth’s hand threaded through Collin’s hair and settled into a gentle yet firm grip. Collin’s pulse rose. Slowly, Mr. Reevesworth pushed his head down, pushing Damian’s cock deeper and deeper into Collin’s throat.
“It’s safe, pet,” Mr. Reevesworth whispered. “Relax and surrender. I have you.”
Collin’s eyes slid closed. His body felt loose and weak. Damian’s cock slid deeper into his throat until his face was fully pressed against Damian’s lower abdomen. He couldn’t breathe. All he could feel was Daman filling his mouth and throat and Mr. Reevesworth holding him there.
Until the dildo in his ass buzzed to life. Collin’s body convulsed in a roll, up from his loins, though his back, and into his shoulders. His throat tightened around Damian’s cock with a groan he couldn’t voice.
Damian cursed softly. “Oh, sir.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it, boy?”
“Yes, sir. He feels so good, sir.”
Collin shuddered, the world feeling spacey and far away. Mr. Reevesworth eased him off, holding him just far enough off Damian’s cock that he could gulp for air, and then he was being pushed down again. The tail in his channel danced against his prostate mercilessly.
Collin’s hands rubbed on Damian’s legs, seeking purchase.
“Hold his wrists, boy.”
“Yes, sir.” Damian grabbed Collin by the lower arms and pinned him down. Collin panted around the drool he couldn’t swallow, and then Damian was back in his throat. The tail felt more intense than it had before. In the long dark moments when he couldn’t breathe, it filled him, a vibration he could hear in his head as all other sound slipped away. He was a being of sensation, no decision, no desperate reach for control. It was gone.
Damian erupted deep in his throat. He couldn’t even taste Damian’s cum until the last traces dragged across his tongue as Mr. Reevesworth let him ease off Damian’s cock. He swallowed, licking blindly. The plug in his ass doubled its intensity. Mr. Reevesworth let go, and Collin slid to the ground, panting desperately, trying to catch his breath, even as his prostate throbbed and danced under the attack in his channel. His dick twitched on its own, leaking precum against Collin’s thighs.
His skin was alight. Even the carpet against his bare skin was driving him into a place where only touch mattered. He was an instrument to be played, and his nerves were the strings. The floor was too lonely. He was meant to be handled, to be touched. He dragged himself up on his knees and pawed at Mr. Reevesworth’s leg, lifting his mouth to beg with his lips at the man’s zipper.
“Want this, pet?” Mr. Reevesworth murmured. “Do you need this?”
Collin whined. Damian dragged himself out of the chair by swinging over the armrest. Mr. Reevesworth dropped into it, opening his belt. That was good. Collin was shaking too hard for buttons or belts. All he wanted was his dom in his mouth. Needed that.
And then it was there, filling him, striking the back of his throat. Collin rose up higher on his knees, his hands gripping Mr. Reevesworth’s hips and pulling him closer. He opened his throat and pushed, taking the man down to the root.
Mr. Reevesworth gasped. “Oh, Émeric, what have we done?”
Collin lifted up and pushed back down, dragging Mr. Reevesworth’s cock all the way out of his throat and then taking him back. Nothing was better. The demon in his ass made him feel like he was on fire. His skin was shattering, and his form felt like it was less than concrete. None of it mattered as much as the shuddering of the man whose cock he had in his mouth. He was going to take what he wanted, and he wanted cum. He wanted the man spent and satisfied and loved, and he could do that.
Mr. Reevesworth gripped the arm of the chair, his fingers curling into the upholstery.
Collin sank back down on his master’s cock, taking him deeper into his throat than he’d ever taken a cock before he’d met this man who had changed his world. His body shook and quivered, an object of punishment for the buzzing tool in his ass, but that only served to make him a better vessel for his master’s pleasure. He reached back farther with his hands, sliding them around Mr. Reevesworth’s hard buttocks and gripping them in both of his hands, pulling himself forward and swallowing down around the man’s cock.
Mr. Reevesworth’s hand left the chair and gripped Collin’s hair. He was panting, his hips subtly flexing, pumping himself into Collin’s throat. Collin held it until stars filled his vision even with his eyes closed. His master was close; he knew it. He drew back, catching air, and sank down again.
His own cock throbbed, bouncing and brushing against the lower half of the chair. Even the soft fibers of the fabric were harsh and bit against the aching head. He spun further into that space he had never been before. He needed…something. Now.
He took one more breath and swallowed, burying his face and whimpering into the vee of Mr. Reevesworth’s hips. His fingers turned into claws, trying to drag more of his master into his mouth. The muscles of his back bunched and spasmed as his prostate begged for mercy from the punishing device in his hole.
Mr. Reevesworth said something Collin couldn’t understand. It didn’t sound like English. And then Mr. Moreau was right there, bending over Collin to kiss his husband, and his hand was on Collin’s head as well, pushing down, a welcome momentary exertion of power.
Cum filled his throat. Hands released him. Mr. Moreau had climbed over him, kissing Mr. Reevesworth with both of his hands gripping his husband. Collin pulled back, the back of his head bumping against Mr. Moreau’s groin. He caught the last of his master’s cum on his tongue. It tasted like salt and honey and his master. He lapped every drop, sealing his lips around Mr. Reevesworth’s cock and sucking it dry and licking the slit to find the very last drop.
Mr. Reevesworth’s whole body was moving with the force of his breathing. Mr. Moreau moved away, releasing his husband. Collin raised his head. He was still in the fever. He locked eyes with Mr. Moreau. He rose up on his knees, grasping the man by the belt. But that wasn’t enough. He rose to his feet, eyes fixed on Mr. Moreau’s. He stepped forward. The man stepped back, giving way. Collin backed him up to the couch and pushed with one hand, sending the man into the cushions. But that wasn’t enough. He pressed closer, climbing onto the couch, urging Mr. Moreau back until the Frenchman was lying on his back on the cushions. Then his fingers were on the waistband of the man’s pants. They were loose. He dragged them down. A wet spot was already staining the fabric. Collin crouched over him on all fours and swallowed the man down. Sweet and tart like wine, that’s what Mr. Moreau tasted like.
The dildo against his prostate battered him, sending spasms into his belly and making his limbs tremble. He forced it out of his consciousness. He wanted this—this thing that had been denied him hours before. It was going to be his, right now. He hummed and licked and swallowed. He was going to have his newest dom’s cum. Nothing else mattered. It was his, and he was going to claim it.
A hand wrapped around his cock. Collin screamed around the cock in his throat, back bending in shock. Mr. Moreau shouted in French. Damian laughed.
“Damian, release the ring.”
