Page 59 of Thin Ice

He took me deeper. His jaw relaxed, and he slid down until I felt the back of his throat and his eyes watered, and he held there. I pushed his head down, firm but not rough, and he took it. Didn't gag. Didn't pull back. His throat worked around me, and the sound I made was too loud for this house.

"That's it. Stay there."

He held. Five seconds. Ten. Then he came up gasping, spit connecting his lips to the head, and his face was already a mess. Lips swollen, chin slick, eyes glassy. He stroked me with his hand while he caught his breath, his grip wet and tight.

"You okay?" I said.

"I'm great." His voice was hoarse. He licked his lips. "I love your cock. I love it so much."

I almost lost it.

He went back down without being told. Bobbing now, finding a rhythm, his hand working the base while his mouth worked the top. Wet sounds filled the room. His tongue did something on the underside, and my hips jerked, and he took it, adjusted, and kept going.

"That's so good… keep sucking me."

There's a thing that happens to me when Alex does what I tell him. Every part of my brain that runs on worry and fear shuts off. All of it. Gone. My golden boy, on his stomach between my legs, doing exactly what I say and loving every second. The trust of it was the hottest thing I'd ever felt. He'd let go of all control and every Harrington reflex and was just the boy who wanted to make me feel good. And I got off on that more than anything his mouth was doing.

"Take your boxers off," I said.

He reached back without lifting his mouth and pushed his boxers down and kicked them off the end of the bed. Still on his stomach, still between my legs, and now I could see all of him. His back tapering to his waist. The curve of his ass, bare, the muscles tight. His legs stretched out behind him. Perfect.

"Keep going," I said. "And arch your back for me."

He arched. His ass lifted, and I ran my hand down his spine to the small of his back. He shivered. I gripped his ass, squeezed hard, and he moaned around my dick and pushed back against my hand.

I found his hole with two fingers. Circled it. Light pressure. He groaned and his hips rocked against the mattress.

"You like that?"

He pulled off just enough. "Yes. God, yes."

"What do you want?"

"I want you inside me."

"Not yet. Keep sucking me. You're gonna earn it."

He took me back in, hungrier, his hand stroking the base while his tongue worked the underside. Sloppy now. Wet. I could hear it and the sound was filthy. I licked my fingers and put them back on his hole, circling, pressing, teasing. His hips were grinding against the sheets, and his ass was pushing toward my hand.

He looked up at me with his pretty blue eyes.

"Lick my balls."

"Anything you want baby."

He slid his tongue down and lower. Licked across my balls, slow, wet, one at a time, while his hand kept stroking. His palm was slick with spit, and his tongue was flat and warm and he took one into his mouth and sucked gently, and I had to grip the sheet to keep from losing it.

"Fuck. That's good."

He let go and licked back up the shaft and took the head in again, his hand still working the base, and he was looking up at me with his face a mess. Lips swollen. Chin wet. Spit on his cheek. The most put-together person I'd ever met, and he was wrecked between my legs and happy about it.

"That's right," I said. "That's a good boy. You're gonna get everything you want."

His whole body shivered. He moaned around me, and his eyes fluttered shut, and his hips ground against the mattress, and I watched my golden boy lose himself in what he was doing and thought: this is what it looks like when he's free.

I put my hand around his jaw and lifted his mouth off my cock.

"You like that?"