Page 64 of Love Language

Only, a trapped volcano because there was nowhere for all that bliss to go. He just had to take it, tunneling it back into himself like magma in his veins.

That was… that had to be his prostate. Only Marco was tapping it from the inside. It was lightning, racing through him and burning him up.

He’d known that it was possible, but Marco had also warned him that it might not happen, so he’d almost forgotten it. But this was impossible and immediate and like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Marco stroked up his shaft with those oddly smooth nitrile gloves and he felt every nuance of it inside and out. It was like Marco was caressing him twice, but so deeply inside him. He knew, at some level, that Marco was barely touching him, but even that small movement shook him to his core.

The sounds of his own moans and whimpers filled his ears, his own dirty soundtrack.

Marco tapped the end and a vibration traveled down through the sounds, burrowing into his prostate. His body resounded like a bell, that tiny movement amplified and reverberating through him.

He kept his eyes closed, but his hands were free. I’m close, he signed. Or, at least, he thought he was close. Lava welled up in his veins, roaring and racing through him.

Could he come with the sounds in? What would happen then? Ultimately, it didn’t matter because Marco would make the decision for him.

Marco began a slow rhythm with the sounds, pulling it out just a bit and then letting it fall again, the curve massaging him inside and the tip pinging against his prostate.

He fought to keep his hips still, his hands down on the bed. But it was difficult. He was close. So very close.

And then Marco slowly withdrew the sounds, and the volcano rushed through him, erupting and spilling over and covering him with molten rivers of ecstasy.

He shook with the power of his orgasm, aftershocks racing through him and leaving him both empty and whole.

He opened his eyes to watch Marco, his face a mixture of concentration and desire.

Greg made a beckoning motion with his hands. He wanted Marco closer. Always closer.

That seemed to be his mantra these days.

And Marco came to him, not because Greg was in charge, but because Greg needed it and Marco would always give him what he needed.

Marco leaned over him, pressing his naked chest to Greg’s and kissing him deeply. And it was perfect and wonderful except…

I have to pee.

Marco chuckled as he helped pull him to his feet. I know. Go quickly and come back to me.

Even as he raced from the room, he could see Marco crumpling up the dirty sheet and pulling back the covers.

Perfect.

Chapter 13 Marco

For the rest of the week, there was something just a bit different about Greg. It wasn’t anything big. Just little things.

He texted more frequently. He asked Marco to come over on Wednesday night, just to order pizza and watch a movie.

In a way, it wasn’t any different from what they’d done before. They’d stayed in and watched movies before, but it was usually with a specific movie in mind that one of them wanted the other one to see. This was more of a “who cares about the movie, let’s just spend time together” thing.

And Greg had been sending him texts about his daily life for a while now, usually when he saw something beautiful or funny, or occasionally when something frustrating happened and he wanted to vent.

Today he’d sent a picture of his lunch. It did look delicious, but was it a hint for something more?

“Look good! I glad you treat yourself,” he sent back. That was ambiguous enough that it could be encouragement from a friend or a Daddy, right?

Later, he got a picture of a scrawled sticky note, the text in black but slashed through in several colors. “Productive day!” was the title.

Sharing a goal that he’d met with a friend or seeking out a Daddy’s approval? Did he want Marco to write checklists for him?