Page 7

JULIAN

A fter a day filled with nothing but love, it’s overwhelming how much more there is to feel and say. Deacon, on his knees in front of me, somehow still surprising me at every turn.

I love that there are so many layers to him. He’s a man of juxtapositions, hard and soft, teacher and student, dominant and submissive, flexible and firm. He truly is whatever I need him to be in every moment.

My cock aches at his nearness. I’m torn between the slow build and the eventual release. I love the way both things feel, because there is something so incredibly satisfying about being able to touch and explore and torture and tease all in the same breath. Even after all these years.

Pushing my legs farther apart, Deacon finally puts his mouth where I need it most. Pressing open-mouthed kisses along the length of my cock, he cradles my sac in one hand, wrapping his fingers around my dick with the other.

He guides my shaft between his lips, the wet heat of his mouth all I can feel. Brown eyes meet his blue, and I watch him watch me as he takes me down his throat. My eyes become fixed on the bob of his head and the hollow of his cheeks as he eagerly licks and sucks.

Firm, callused hands grip the back of my thighs, lifting my legs into the air and pushing me back onto the mattress. With my knees to my chest, Deacon grazes his lips down my length and past my taint, the flat of his tongue teasing my hole.

Deacon knows every button to push. Over the years, not only has he spent time and effort becoming familiar with a man’s body, but he spent time and effort becoming familiar with my body. There isn’t any part of me he doesn’t know. He knows what sounds I make, and how to make sure I make them.

My back arches off the bed as he spears his tongue in and out of me, feasting on me. He’s trying to torture me, and it’s working.

The snick of a bottle opening adds to the anticipation, and despite being intimately familiar with the sound, my breath hitches and goosebumps pebble my skin when Deacon replaces his tongue with his cold, lube-covered fingers.

“Fuck,” I hiss as he pushes two slick digits inside me.

He effortlessly glides them in and out, scissoring his fingers, making me needier on every stroke. My body writhes when he grazes my prostate, my cock hard, aching, and leaking on my stomach.

“Driving you crazy never gets old.” With his fingers still deep inside me, he rises up off his knees and bends at the waist to meet my mouth. “You’re so beautiful laid out for me. Desperate for me.”

I taste myself on his tongue, and it only makes me hungrier and greedier for more. I devour his mouth as three of his fingers thrust in and out of my hole. He’s knuckle deep, stretching me, filling me, but it isn’t enough.

“Want my cock?” he taunts.

I clench around him. “Like my next breath.”

Deacon drags out his fingers and slaps my ass, the emptiness has an unintelligible sound leaving my mouth. He shuffles us both up the mattress, maneuvering us till he’s leaning against the headboard, thighs spread wide and cock resting beautifully against his stomach.

His lust-filled eyes dance over my body as he strokes himself, smearing his pre-cum up and down his length. Searching for the lube, I find the bottle within arm’s reach and liberally squeeze some into my palm.

Straddling his thighs, I wrap my hand around him and make a mess of his cock. His large hands reach around to my ass, squeezing and caressing. “Make sure you’re ready too.”

Our gazes lock as he spreads my cheeks. Still slick, I know this is just for show, and like a good husband, I perform. I run my fingers down my crease and tease my hole, even my own touch too much. I breach myself, one digit and then another, and when Deacon teases my rim, adding to the pressure and the pleasure, I beg, “Please, Deac. Fuck me. Please.”

Nudging me forward, my hands land on his shoulders, catching myself. My head falls between us, and I have the perfect view of him lining his beautiful cock up with my ass. His crown presses against my hole, and my head snaps up as we both groan in anticipation.

His hand reaches for my face, his thumb skating across my jaw, the switch from greedy to gentle unmissable.

“Let me watch you fall apart, baby,” he says. “I want to see you come on my cock.’

The words are filthy, but his voice is nothing but tender. I lower myself onto him, inch by inch, the feeling of fullness overwhelming yet welcome. My chest aches with the feeling of coming home, content with the sense of belonging that comes with loving and being loved by this man.

His hand curls around my neck, bringing my mouth to his. The kiss is full of adoration and reverence as he wordlessly hands me control.

In complete sync with one another, I take and he gives, over and over, up and down.

“I love you,” he says against my lips, our bodies flush, his cock buried deep. “I love being so wrapped up in you that your heart beats for us and my lungs breathe for us. There is no beginning and no end, there’s just you and me.”

I want to cry and I want to come, my heart so full it feels like a stretched balloon, my dick so hard it throbs. His hips rock up into me, his cock nudging my prostate, and every part of me feels like it will spill over. I slam my mouth to his as he wraps his hand around my heavy length, unable to formulate the right words, knowing my body will do it justice.

I rise and fall in desperation, riding him, using him, owning him. He wants to start every day with me and I want to end every day with him. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room as tingles race down my spine and my balls tighten in anticipation. Our bodies move in a heated frenzy. The love between us is palpable, Deacon and I trying to encompass the magnitude of our love in every movement.

Thrust . I love you. Stroke . I want forever with you. Touch. I would die without you. Kiss . I will always choose you.

“Deacon,” I cry out. “I’m so close.”

“Me too. Come with me,” he commands as his hand pumps my shaft. “I want to see you come all over me while I fill you up.”

Between the promise of what’s to come and the adrenaline of the day, I welcome the familiar free-falling feeling as my body explodes in euphoria. The orgasm rocks me to my core, and I shout as thick ropes of cum spill onto Deacon’s stomach.

“So fucking beautiful,” Deacon growls, effortlessly rolling us over till my back is flat against the mattress. My legs are spread wide, my body open for him, as he brutally thrusts into me. I feel his cock pulse and twitch inside me as his climax hits. He moans in my ear as his cum floods my hole.

My chest rises and falls, my body lazy and lax, as we both come down from the high, neither one of us able to speak, neither one of us wanting to move. We stare at one another in contented silence, nothing else in the room besides the smell of sex and the sound of both of us breathing.

Deacon’s cock softens and I dread the thought of him leaving my body. As if he can read my mind, his gaze catches on mine, and I gasp as he replaces his shaft with his fingers, pushing his cum deep inside me. It’s possessive and primal, and just another way to remind me I’m his and he’s mine.

No beginning. No end.

Only him and me.

Me and him.

Husbands.