Page 25 of Sunrises & Salvation
Hunter takes the initiative, pushing his pants down. His dick springs out of his underwear, slapping against his stomach.
He’s so thick, the tip of him peeking out, flushed and leaking. The veins pulse wildly under the thin skin.
I don’t know what to do, so I let my instincts take over and trail my tongue across the slit, tasting his salty, bitter precum. He thrusts his hips up, shoving his dick farther into my mouth. I have to breathe through my nose so I don’t do something embarrassing like choke.
“Mmphm. Adam. Adam.” He chants my name like a prayer. A whimpering mess of a man, praising me while I try to show him what heaven feels like. A heaven that is meant for him and that only I can provide.
He strokes the back of my head, not forcing me down, but the heavy comfort of his hand fuels me. “Adam, I’m going to…” His hips stutter, and he tightens his grip on my hair to try to pull me off. No way.
“Please. Please. Please.” Hunter’s mumbling to himself while I suck harder, letting his heavy cock rest on my tongue and push toward the back of my throat.
“You’re doing so good. So, so, so good.” His cock twitches hard in my mouth, and he’s coming, his release spilling down my throat in rhythmic pulses.
I gulp him down greedily, wanting to keep him inside me in any selfish way I can.
When he pushes my head away from his softening length, he pulls me up to him.
Our lips crash together, sharing the taste of him between us.
I groan, feeling the need to release building in my balls.
“Are you going to…” He trails off, glancing down at my hard cock tenting my pants.
“I can, if you don’t mind.” Hunter rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I obviously want you to,” he retorts, reaching out to palm me over my pants.
“You can come on me if you want.” Oh fuck.
I pull my pants down far enough to pull my dick out. It takes me two rough strokes and I’m unleashing all the pent-up lust in me all over his stomach, coating him in my release and marking him. Doing exactly what he said I could do.
“Is it weird if I say that was hot?” Hunter asks when we finally recover from our release.
“No, because it was hot for me too.” And in a moment of vulnerability, I ask, “Was it good for you?”
“Uh-yeah. Obviously.” I laugh, and he joins in, his laughter deep and low, the glorious sound bouncing off the walls as a rush of endorphins force their way into every crack and crevice. Even after he leaves, the memory of him will be ingrained inside these four walls.
“Good, cool. I’m glad.” I tap my finger against my leg, the beat to “Drunk” by Dayseeker flowing through my head.
“Was it… okay for you?” Hunter hesitates, his face shadowed in concern.
“It was perfect. You are perfect,” I admit, standing up and leaving him on the bed. I need to take a minute to cool my thoughts and grab him a rag to clean up with.
When I get back, his eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling.
The ropes of my cum are a stark contrast to his tanned skin, and the voice inside of me is tempting me to leave it.
To see if it can soak in his skin so he can smell like me, no matter how many times he tries to wash it off. But that’s not reasonable.
I clean him up, taking extra care to get every spot so it doesn’t end up crusty. His skin is glowy, the fine sheen of sweat accentuating his muscles.
“Thank you for cleaning me up.” His smile is soft when he opens his eyes and looks at me. I press a kiss to his upper lip, licking the scar.
“You don’t ever have to thank me for anything. If I do it, it’s because I want to.” He scoots over, and I lie beside him on the bed. Hunter intertwines our fingers together and rests them on his stomach.
I think he’s going to leave. Why would he stay? He has class tomorrow, and that fucking date with Thomas. But he doesn’t.
“When I was younger, my mom used to read to me every night. I’m pretty sure I remember every word of Where the Wild Things Are. ”
I lay beside him in silence, staring up at the ceiling and not moving at the risk of ruining the moment. I count the breaths we share while I wait to see where he goes with that comment. And just when I think he’s asleep, he speaks again.
“It might be slightly wrong, but just remember this is from my memory only. And it’s spotty at times…”
Turning on my side, I prop my head on the cool pillow, feeling my cheek sink into it as I keep my eyes on his side profile. His nose is upturned slightly, and from this angle, I barely have a glimpse of the scar on his upper lip.
“Max wore his wolf suit, made mischief, and his mother called him wild thing … and Max replied I’ll eat you up!
” His voice rises in pitch, mimicking the young Max and turning feminine when it’s supposed to be the mom.
He brings the story to life for me as I lie in bed beside him.
This is what he used to experience when he was a kid, someone loving him so much that they acted out stories for him.
And often enough that even all these years later, he still remembers.
“So she sent him to bed without eating.”
I fight sleep, my eyes burning as I try to stay awake to listen to Hunter’s deep timbre as he gives me a piece of himself that I never would have gotten if I hadn’t gone home with him.
I don’t want to fall asleep, because I’m afraid that when I wake up, it’ll all be a dream my emotionally starved brain created to torture me further.