Page 17 of Omega

I took him in my mouth, flattening my tongue to taste the salt of his taut flesh as he slid between my wide-stretched lips. I backed away, letting him pop out. “Don’t you?”

“Don’t I—what?”

I felt a wild thrill of satisfaction; I knew I was doing it right when he lost composure. I squeezed as hard as I dared, and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t you love to fuck me in the ass?” I plunged my tightened fist down from tip to root, squeezing, clenching around him. “Like this? Tight and hot?”

He made a sound low in his throat. “God yes…just like that.” He thrust his hips, his groan rumbling deep in his chest.

I pressed a kiss to his jaw, and then his throat, and then bent over him and licked the tip of his glans, tasting pre-come, and then stroked his cock with my hands, taking him deeper into my mouth as I lowered my fist around his girth. He groaned again and leaned forward, thrust upward, and I took the thrust willingly, letting him fuck my mouth, letting him fuck through my squeezing fist and between my lips.

But then I backed away and glanced up at him. “That’s enough, now, Valentine. Let me make you feel good. Don’t move.”

His eyes narrowed, Roth nodded, resting his head back against the seat once more. He threaded his fingers through my hair, tucked his other hand behind his head, and let out a sigh.

I waited another moment, drawing it out. Then, keeping my eyes on his, I pulled his shaft away from his body, tilted my head to the side, and took him into my mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring, chest swelling, jaw tensing and flexing as he watched his dick slide between my lips. Back away, bend closer, take him deeper, let him almost slip out…I matched the rhythm to the pace of his breathing, faster and faster and faster, until I was bobbing almost frantically.

And then I stopped, and Roth groaned. He’d never apply force or pressure, but his grip on my hair tightened.

I let his saliva-glistening member pop free of my mouth, and then, eyes on his, moving slowly, deliberately, I licked him from root to tip, pressing my tongue so it was wide and flat against the veined flesh. As I reached the apex, I took him back into my mouth and this time wrapped my fingers around him just beneath my mouth and stroked him with both at once. I took him to the back of my throat, and then I added my other hand around the base—god, I’d never get over how huge his cock was, how perfect, that I could fit both hands and my mouth around him and still have room to move, that I had to stretch my lips and jaw around him, that my fingertips didn’t quite meet when I gripped him with my fist.

I began moving slowly, then. Torturously slowly, gliding down with my mouth, stroking with both hands, pulling upward so just the soft and springy head of his cock was in my mouth, and then I began sucking. Fists moved, sliding up and down, faster and faster.

Harder and harder.

And then slower. I removed my mouth, pulled him away, looked up at him, maintaining eye contact as I stroked him hand over fist, smearing my saliva and his leaking pre-come all over his cock. He groaned again, fisting my hair even harder, so the roots tugged. He was close, then.

I jacked him with one hand, the tip of his cock at my lips, kissing, licking, sucking, a gentle careful scrape of the teeth, and then he was flexing his hips and clenching his teeth to keep from making too much noise.

“Just your mouth, love. Give me your hands.” His voice was an unexpected rumble.

I reached up and he took my hands in his, cupping my small ones in his much larger paws. I rested my cheek against his stomach and slid lower, closer, and let his cock slide into my mouth. Sucked. Bobbed. Paused to lick the tip and flick my tongue against the hole at the very apex, tasting the smoky essence. And then bobbed lower and took as much of him as I could, setting no rhythm.

And then he was rasping in his throat and his hips were flexing, and I knew it was time to stop playing with him and make him come.

I tugged one of my hands free from his grip and cupped his sac in my palm, slid my middle finger against his taint and pressed in. His breath caught, and I began fucking with him my mouth in earnest, now, no finesse or technique, just my lips and tongue on his throbbing cock, faster and faster.

I pressed harder with my finger, slid it a little further back, earning a grunt of surprise from him. He didn’t protest, though, so I pushed yet farther, until I was right there, tip of my middle finger pressed against his asshole and he was fighting to relax, wanting to tense, but not allowing himself. I found the center of the knot of muscle and pressed, slid the tip of my finger in, and he groaned helplessly, his muscles going limp even as his hips flexed and stayed taut.

All the while, I was going down on him, not hard or fast, but with a consistent rhythm. He wanted it faster, wanted it harder. But I didn’t give that to him. My goal wasn’t to make him come quickly, but intensely, and to that end drawing it out as long as possible was best.

He was close, though; I could feel it, taste it.

And I wanted it. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to feel him let loose, feel him take his pleasure in my mouth.

Until Roth, giving blowjobs was something that was just…a thing. Not a bad thing, or a good thing, just something one did as a routine part of sex. I didn’t mind doing it, but I didn’t enjoy it. I always knew my partner enjoyed it, obviously, because every male whether straight or gay loves few things more than getting his dick sucked. But this…with Valentine?

This wasn’t about sex, really. It was about an expression of love, about showing him how much I loved him, showing him how much I wanted to make him feel good, showing him that his pleasure was paramount to me. I loved his body, every inch of it. And I especially loved his cock, all the glorious length of it. I’d never have thought it was possible, but I loved feeling him in my mouth, loved the sensation of stroking his hardness with my hands, tasting the pre-come on my tongue, feeling him tighten and grow harder under my touch. I loved feeling him go crazy, watching him lose control, knowing it wasme, knowing I could make him feel so incredible that he couldn’t hold back. I loved the way his cock would throb and thicken as he got closer to orgasm…like he was at that moment, rock-hard abs taut as a drum skin, balls tight up against his body, hips flexing involuntarily, eyes squeezed shut, breath coming in short wild gasps…

Yes, here it came, the release.

I loved this too, when he cut loose in my mouth. I felt him thrust deeper into my mouth and pressed my finger deeper, felt him tense, flex. He gave my hair two sharp tugs as a warning signal.

I slowed my pace.

He groaned, growled, sounding almost feral.

I slowed yet more, pulling back until he nearly popped out, and then plunged down, taking him to the back of my throat. He growled again, thrusting up as he prepared to come.

I hummed, moved my finger ever so slightly in and out, and gave him one more long slow stroke of my mouth, and then I tasted salt and heat, felt the initial spurt as I was backing away. Felt it on my tongue, splashing into my mouth. I swallowed, continued my slow deliberate stroke, until I was at the edge of my gag reflex.