Page 76 of His Holy Chaos

"Hell yeah. Alfie has seen way worse," he tells me. I smirk.

"Good," I say. I turn to Jude. "On your knees, baby."

He drops instantly, the movement graceful in a way that would have been impossible an hour ago. He kneels between my legs. I undo my jeans, slide them down, and my cock springs free, already leaking. Jude's eyes go wide, lips parted, hunger written in every line of his body.

"Do you remember the rules?" I ask him.

He nods. "No hands unless you say. No cumming unless you let me."

"Good boy." I stroke his hair, palm heavy on the crown of his head, feeling the heat radiate from his neck and shoulders. I guide him to the tip, watch his mouth open, the tongue flicking out to taste me.

Every motion has a desperate, greedy enthusiasm that makes my head spin. He takes me deep, pulls back, works the underside, then goes deep again, moaning around me. I thread my fingers through his blond hair and hold him there, just for a second.

I glance at Alfie. He's transfixed, one hand down the front of his jeans, slow strokes. He meets my gaze and doesn't look away.

I return my focus to Jude. He's drooling, slick with spit and pre-cum, his cheeks hollowed with the effort of taking me as deep as he can. He's so far gone he doesn't notice or care that tears are running again, that his nose is running, that he's making a mess of himself and the floor and me. I love him for it. I love him so fiercely in this moment that I want to split open and pour the feeling into his mouth, let him drink it down and taste what he does to me.

"Fuck, baby," I say, voice gone rough. "You're going to make me come if you keep that up."

He grins around my cock, which shouldn't be possible but somehow is.

"Do you want Daddy's cum?" I ask.

He moans. Nods, desperate.

"Ask for it."

"Please, Daddy, please come in my mouth, please…"

I let go. I grip his hair and hold him still and thrust, not brutal but not gentle either, and he takes it, every inch, until I hit the back of his throat and spill. He swallows greedily, his throat working. I shudder in the aftermath. My vision whites at the edges.

Alfie is still stroking himself, slower now, eyes glazed. Jude nuzzles my hip, then looks up, face shining with tears and spit and pride.

"Can I…" He gestures down at his own cock, still hard, still leaking.

"You deserve it, angel. I'm not letting you back in chastity until you've had your reward," I tell him.

I reach down and take him in hand, palm rough. His cock jumps at the first touch. He shivers, hips arching into my grip. I give him exactly what he wants: a slow, relentless stroke, just tight enough to make him gasp, just slow enough to make him tremble.

Alfie watches, mesmerized. His own hand moving again, more urgent now, matching the rhythm I set for Jude. Their eyes meet for a moment, and something passes between them, a current, a dare, a mutual recognition of how much they both need this.

Jude bites his lip, then lets out a helpless whine. "Please, Daddy. Please let me come."

"Not yet," I say, squeezing him a little harder. "You can do better than that. Alfie, do you think he can last another minute?"

Alfie grins, wolfish and sweet. "He can last as long as you want him to. He told me once he wanted to be edged for a whole day."

Jude groans, mortified and aroused at once. "That was a joke!"

I work him, thumb circling the head on every upstroke. "Was it, baby? Because I think you'd let me, if I wanted it."

He nods frantically. "Yes, Daddy, anything you want."

His body is a live wire under my hand. I lean forward and kiss him hard, tasting myself and salt and the sweetness of his mouth. I break the kiss just long enough to say: "Come for me, baby. Now."

He does. His whole body convulses, his hips jerking up, and he cries out, not a word but a sound, primal and pure, as he spills across my hand and his own stomach. Alfie, across the couch, shudders and comes too, biting down on his own fist.

The smell of it, sex and sweat and relief, fills the room.