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He opened his eyes to stare up his own clenching stomach to Mal’ik’s snarling face above him. His cock bounced between them, an almost angry red now. Mal’ik adjusted his grip and hit a spot inside Oliver that felt painfully good, and his cock kicked and drooled precum over his belly.
“I want to come.” Oliver licked his lips. “Mal’ik, fuck, please, I want to come.”
“Yeah?” Mal’ik dug his fingers into Oliver’s hips. “You want to come all over yourself, Oliver?”
A jolt of electricity shot down Oliver’s spine. “Yes.”
He thought of his own thick spend shooting from his cock and onto his chest and neck, and instead of instinctual panicked disgust, he felt a desperate need.
“Yes, fuck, I want that, Mal’ik,” he whined. “I want to come on myself.”
“Do it,” Mal’ik ordered, his voice impossibly low. “Do it, Oliver. Make yourself come.”
Oliver’s hand shot up between his legs and grabbed hold of his sticky cock. He didn’t have any of the oil Mal’ik had used and his grip was rough and full of friction, but he couldn’t be bothered if it hurt.
He jacked himself frantically, mewling and sobbing at the feel of his own hand on his cock and Mal’ik pistoning inside him. He wasn’t going to last long; he wasn’t going to last any time at all. He was going to completely come apart. He was going to shatter.
A cry tore from his throat as he finally burst into pieces. His cock kicked and pulsed and shot cum straight up to his face. He felt a hot splatter against his chin and then his throat, and he moaned. The mess of his spend slicked his grip, and he kept milking his cock as aftershocks of pleasure shuddered through him, sparked again and again by the feel of Mal’ik thrusting into him.
“Oliver.” Mal’ik’s grip on his hips became bruising, and he sped up his thrusts even faster. “Oliver, I’m going to come.”
“On me,” Oliver found himself demanding, and as soon as the words left his mouth, it suddenly became vitally important. “Come on me, Mal’ik. Please, please, I want it on me.”
“Oh fuck, Oliver.”
Mal’ik pulled out and dropped over him, bending Oliver near in half. He grabbed his own cock and stroked once, twice, and then was coming with a shout. Oliver moaned again as Mal’ik pumped his cum onto him, painting his chest and his stomach with rope after rope of white. It was filthy and hot and sticky, and Oliver shuddered as a profound mix of relief and pleasure shivered through him.
After what felt like ages and gallons, Mal’ik let out a heaving sigh and finally dropped his hand from his length and down onto the bed beside Oliver. He dropped his forehead onto Oliver’s shoulder and panted, and Oliver reached up to run his fingers through his dark hair as he gulped deep breaths of his own.
He was still floating. Weightless and happy and sated. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this peaceful in his life. Mal’ik made a pleased hum and pressed his lips to the underside of Oliver’s jaw.
Then he finally pushed off Oliver and fell onto his back beside him. Oliver winced as he stretched his legs straight out again, muscles protesting as they unbent from their contortions.
The movement caused the puddles of cum on him to ripple, and one overflowed out of the divot of his hip and dripped down his side. He looked down at himself and started crashing back out of whatever fucked out headspace he’d been in.
What the hell had he just done?
His breath started to speed up again, quick and sharp.
What sort of fucking fool had he just made of himself? He had just writhed on his bed with a cock up his ass, begging to be come on. He had literally begged to come all over himself and then begged for Mal’ik’s spend all over him too. How the fuck was he supposed to live that down?
“Oliver.” Mal’ik started to reach for him, and Oliver sat up abruptly.
The congealing semen dripped over his collarbone and down his chest, and he gagged. He swung his legs out of the bed and strode to the bathroom, fighting not to run for it.
“Oliver!”
He stepped into the shower and turned on the head to full power. The water here wasn’t instantly hot like on his ship, and it hit him with an icy blast that took his breath away, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be clean; he just needed everything off him now.
“Oliver, are you alright?” Oliver could see the dark bulk of Mal’ik standing in the doorway through the translucent shower curtain. His voice was deep and even, but Oliver heard a thread of urgency and he cringed.
Now that the panic of being dirty had been assuaged by the water sluicing everything off his skin, he had even more emotional room for shame and embarrassment. He didn’t want to look at Mal’ik after the way he’d just behaved, and he turned away to lean his head back into the stream of water. He swallowed to make sure his voice would come out steady.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he said. “Thank you. That was perfect.”
Thank you. That was perfect. Oliver winced and bit his tongue before it could say something else equally stupid. Who said that after sex?
Mal’ik didn’t respond right away, and Oliver scrubbed his hair and chewed on his lip as he tried to figure out what to do. He should probably at least look at the man. Invite him into the shower so he could clean off as well? The water was warm now.
