Page 85 of Hot for Teacher
Chase let out a whimper, thrusting his hips up into the air as he swallowed desperately. Killian erupted down his throat, groaning at the relief, holding Chase’s head in place until every last drop was gone.
Killian finally released his beta. Chase’s suit pants were unzipped, and his erection was tenting his underwear. But he’d been a good boy and kept his hands at his sides. He looked fucking gorgeous in his disarray.
Killian tsked, eyeing the evidence of Chase’s arousal. “We can’t have you going out like that. What will our guests think?”
He grabbed Chase’s hand and tugged him off the floor, then deftly pulled Chase’s pants and underwear down and dropped to his own knees.
He wrapped his lips around Chase’s cock and swallowed him down.
“Oh fuck! Fucking god!” Chase cried. And then—perfect boy that he was—he came almost immediately, barely allowing Killian to hollow his cheeks before his cum was filling Killian’s mouth.
Chase chanted continual blasphemy at the ceiling as Killian swallowed every drop—he wasn’t a hypocrite—and then tuckedChase carefully back into his pants, straightening his own clothes afterward.
Chase stared down at him, his chest still heaving. “Oh fuck. You’re right. How are we supposed to go back out there?”
Killian petted soothing strokes down Chase’s thighs. “Relax, sweet boy. I’ll get us sorted out. Here.” He handed Chase a champagne glass.
When drawing up the day’s schedule with the wedding planner, Killian had insisted on twenty minutes after the ceremony wherein he and Chase wouldn’t be disturbed, while the rest of the guests were enjoying cocktail hour. He’d known Chase would need somewhere private and quiet to settle after the intensity of exchanging vows.
And there was one way Killian knew how to settle Chase best.
Killian wasn’t sure what couples usually used this private time for. It probably wasn’t meant to be a space for one groom to throat-fuck the other, but spending these allotted moments doing otherwise was wasting precious time and resources, in Killian’s opinion.
It had taken him approximately thirty seconds to get his new husband on his knees.
Killian grabbed the wet wipes he’d stashed earlier and wiped Chase’s face down in between sips of champagne. He then straightened his beta’s hair—not that it needed much help to fall perfectly. Then lastly it was only a few more adjustments to each of their tuxes.
And voila. All done. A respectable pair of newlyweds.
Chase’s eyes were perhaps a little red still, but some tears were expected on his wedding day. And his lips were—well, his lips were always delectable. Who was to say they were any more so than usual?
And they still had—Killian checked his phone—five minutes left.
Maybe he shouldn’t be proud of how quickly he’d come downhis beta’s throat, but so be it. It was Killian’s wedding day. He was allowed to be emotional.
Killian took a seat, then set Chase on his lap. He grabbed a second glass of champagne for himself.
“I’m sorry,” Chase said quietly, resting his head on Killian’s shoulder.
“Whatever for?”
“I stumbled on the vows.”
Killian laughed. “Because you were fighting back tears. I was too. You had me gutted, sweet boy.”
Chase let out a little sigh, and Killian knew he was letting it go.
His beta had come a long way when it came to expressing himself. He was coming on three years of therapy now, though the frequency of his sessions had decreased. But Chase still often ached for reassurances, and Killian had no problem giving them to him as often as he needed.
Killian rubbed his thumb over the distinctive bite mark on Chase’s neck. It was still relatively fresh, as Killian’s rut had fallen close to the wedding.
He’d had the patience of a saint, waiting to bite his intended mate. But Chase’s therapist had strongly suggested Chase might benefit from time—to heal and grow and pursue his path to become a therapist himself—so that he might feel on more equal footing before they bonded somewhat irrevocably.
It had been … sensible, Killian hated to admit. And the goal had been to avoid harm to Chase, so Killian had supported the idea, ignoring his own baser instincts that would have had him biting Chase that very first rut they’d shared.
But Killian’s time had finally come. Chase had finished his master’s and was beginning his supervised clinical hours in a few months. They’d ended up staying in Phoenix, at least for now. Chase had chosen an online program, and his internships had been organized by his program at approved locations in the area.
And now—a ring on his finger and a bite on his neck—Chase was Killian’s, even more than he had been before. And Killian belonged to him in turn. By bond and by marriage.
