Page 22 of Coach’s Son (Twin Cities #2)
Drew
At last, sweet Lover Boy is mine and how delicious he is. Warm and plush, a lad of pristine quality to say the least. After he submitted to me in the tent, he hopped right in the Rover the morning after, a cheeky smile and all.
I glance over to him in the passenger seat, his chest rising with delicate breaths as he dozes. Gently shifting his neck from time to time, small gasps occasionally exiting his puckers.
I’m sure he’s tuckered out—spent after a good fuck. And lord was he phenomenal, engulfing my prick with a vengeance. Mouth and arse used to their full capabilities. I had no idea that Charlie was keeping such a prize under lock and key.
The Range Rover enters the parking garage and I shift it into park.
“Hey there sleepyhead,” I slightly shake him awake, taking a moment to appreciate his fluttering lips as the breaths ease in and out.
He blinks slowly, eyes embracing the world after a slumber. “What time is it?”
“It’s the afternoon, baby.”
Austin’s cheeks flush with warmth. “Oh really? I can’t miss anymore practice. Coach might get another ulcer.”
I trace my fingers down his jawline. “Don’t you worry, I’ll call him for you today. Explain everything. Tomorrow I’ll drive you to practice.”
“Thank you so much, my head is just shooting blanks right now.”
“Of course. I would do anything for my boy.” My lips land a peck on his left cheek, kissing the scarlet hue. “Now let’s get you upstairs for some proper rest.”
We stumble into my flat, everything is just how I left it. Vodka on my altar, blue razz vape waiting to intoxicate my lungs for a nice buzz, and clean sheets for us to ruin.
“Make yourself at home.”
He better realize that he’s never leaving my side. I’ll escort him to practice and he’ll come to the rink. Or lock him up in the bedroom. Those chestnut eyes are too fragile to wander of on their own. Last time that happened, he was nearly ransacked by a pack of canines.
Never again, Lover Boy.
You are now at the leisure of your King. Safe and under the protection of a man afraid of nothing. Even my pussy brother, such a pathetic wanker.
I chuckle to myself imagining him huffing and puffing his chest, thinking he’s the big bad wolf—attempting to blow over my whole apartment building. A terribly sad endeavour to win Austin back.
He better learn something real hastily, Austin’s mine and will never return to his golden arms. When you let the darkness in, the sunshine can’t infiltrate. Even if it's the bloody summer solstice.
“So this is your dungeon huh?” Austin asks, his eyes hovering over the marble floors. “Thought it would be…”
“More sinister, or emo?” I snicker.
“Yeah something like that.” He glances towards his toes.
“Love, I’ve got bloody great taste. I know how to decorate and obsess over what I want.” My eyes wander his frame, inspecting his perfection. Christ, he looks irresistible and helpless, lips hanging open, waiting for me to help close them. “Why do you think I couldn’t walk away from your fineness.”
His mouth stutters, the words escaping his breath, but the ache in his eyes is unmistakable. He needs me. Needs my love and my fury, and fuck will I give it to him.
I’ll offer every bit of me, even if it strips the flesh from my bones.
“I couldn’t let you rot away with my poor excuse of a brother. You deserve to shine in the spotlight, be worshipped like the pyramids. You deserve nothing less than a King to handle you.”
“Thank you King…” he mumbles, pupils twinkling like stars in a clear night sky, his feet tread closer to me, until our lips are centimeters apart. “I know you are strong. Fearless. Everything that Charlie isn’t. A man with no limits…”
I can’t resist his bloody puckers any longer, my lips meet his, sending a storm of embers through my soul. Energy and light surging through the coals that power my being.
How is the man so enchanting?
Each second, I’m with him, I feel bewitched by his words. Like he’s tricking me into being kinder and more empathetic. As if I care about his feelings?
What a weird sensation? I’ve never given a fuck about how someone else felt.
Emotions are fickle. Power is all that matters.
Maybe I’ve had too much fresh air, sneaking these delirious slivers into my mind. It doesn’t matter right now. I’ve got the most beautiful, breathtaking hunk in front of me. My eyes have never seen more innocence and temptation wrapped in the same body.
I growl into his mouth, savouring the nectar of his saliva. My tongue wrestling with his—to which he quickly submits and whimpers down my tract. A fit of lust spiraling through me.
“Are you starving to please your King?” I whisper into his ear.
“Yes…” he moans back, his prick protruding from his pants.
“Walk to the bedroom,” I command, inklings of filth painting my brain.
I could tie him up with my velvet ropes, have him stand there, all tied to the door while I fuck the mercy out of his body. He can pray until he realizes I’m the only God in the room. That I’m his divine salvation.
Or gag his mouth while I tease his rim with my mouth for hours on end, never letting him indulge in the liberty of creamy release. Those whimpers would be a delightful harmony to my eardrums. The pleading of a man forbidden to eject his load.
The possibilities are infinite. I know he’ll do whatever I say. To please his King.
My mind settles on watching him squirm while all he can do is twitch and murmur his satisfaction.
“Strip all of your clothes,” I order, as if I’m a prison warden, ready to punish the inmates.
“Yes sir…” His prick is throbbing in my field of vision, aching to be bossed around a true alpha.
After he removes every piece of fabric from his form, my eyes can’t help themselves.
Every inch of him is the sheer embodiment of the male anatomy.
A jawline that could slice throats, pecs that would make Hercules jealous, and a cock that is the optimum ratio of length and girth.
And just a sufficient amount of hair that occupies his chest and trails down to his groin.
Yum… Can’t forget about those muscles, juiced up with that young stud testosterone and thighs that could suffocate a draught horse. Don’t even get me started on that supple arse.
How did I get so lucky catching this one…
Usually the mice I catch are overly zealous with their desire. Quite a turnoff. Nobody wants a harlot begging for ten quid. That’s why the escorts can charge a thousand pounds and nobody bats a lash.
But Austin gives me the perfect balance of chase and lust.
A man that knows how to use his charm ever so thoughtfully.
A man I intend to use for my cock’s desire, as long as I can shut up the ridiculous emotions surging through my noggin.
I grab the set of blazing red lingerie, the soft velvet rubbing against my skin. "Put these on."
"Yes King," he whimpers, as the lingerie form around his thick arse. And lord does he fill them out pristinely.
“On the bed. Now!” I yell out.
He scampers onto the sheets, plopping with a thud, his ass jiggling. A motion that reverberates across my vision like a power play. The dusting of hair down his crease barely visible in the dim light.
“Do you wish to please your King?”
“Yes sir…,” he moans, the crown of his cock pulsing towards the foot of the bed.
“Then spread those legs and arms like you mean it.”
He obeys with hesitation, those juicy quads flexing against the sheets, begging to be spread further.
I pad over to the nightstand, withdrawing my favourite ropes. Black silk nylon. These ones will be nice on skin, a great contrast to his pale contour. Yet, durable enough to withstand even the tightest stretch. Even his defined muscles wouldn’t stand a chance at ripping them.
“Are you ready to be tied up?” My own prick is throbbing relentlessly, eagerly waiting for his consent.
“Yes master,” he whimpers, thighs quivering with uncertainty.
“Say no more my little dove,” I chuckle with a waft of malice.
I make my way to his right ankle, feeding his foot in through the rope, yanking it taut to the corner of the bed. Then the same with his other limbs.
By the time all four limbs are restricted, the sight is one to behold. A perfect star, begging for his King’s wrath. His cheeks flutter, awaiting my entrance. The lingerie nearly ripping from the flex of his cheeks.
“How does it feel—being under your master’s control?” I taunt, the hunger inside my cock becoming intolerable.
“Divine…” he stutters.
Divine is the perfect word for him. A wonder of specimen. Meant for kings and gods.
“Can’t forget the blindfold.” I pull the string around the back of his head, the plush side covering his orbits. “I’m feeling generous, so I suppose we can forgo the gag this time.”
Truth is, I want to hear every one of his beautiful whimpers, how much he fancies my prick inside his arse. To hear each sound that spills from those pouty lips.
“How kind of you, my King.”
Bloody hell, those words tingle down my spine. I can’t wait another fucking second. That hole needs to be spread.
I leap on the bed, frame tottering from our combined mass. My presence is met with mewls that escape his mouth. “Just you wait baby, I want you so loud that the neighbors put in a fucking noise complaint.”
Without wasting another moment, I drive my tongue into his appetising arse, mobilising my muscle past his fuzz to reach the tender pink flesh, as I rip the lingerie. I slurp away the purity that radiates off my tongue, darkening him with each swipe.
He releases a soul pleasing whine, his hole fluttering on my command, trembling with obedience. I cover the full range, from the small of his back down to the underside of his ball sack. No scrumptious inch of him is left untouched.