on his chin as eyes dyed black by the psychedelic lighting seared through his soul. Rob lowered his head and Michael pulled back, knocking his head against the wall, some semi-conscious instinct warning him what they’d done was bad enough, if he let Rob kiss him, he’d truly be lost. But Rob wasn’t angling for a kiss. Instead the Dom dipped his head to lick the cum off Michael’s jaw, then pulled back and licked the spunk off his own hand. Michael fought hard to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. So. Fucking. Hot.
Then those hard hands were on his shoulders, pressing hard, and it was as natural as breathing for Michael to go to his knees. Rob didn’t speak, just guided Michael’s hands behind his own neck, then unfastened his belt and the fly of his fine wool pants. Michael leaned back, bracing his shoulders on the wall and looked up the length of Rob’s body.
That fine, fat cock was free now, and Michael’s mouth was watering for it. He wanted to reach out and take, but his Mas … Rob had placed his hands behind his neck, and he couldn’t break the command. Instead he just leaned in when Rob rubbed the damp tip of his cock along Michael’s lips. He chased the salt-sweet silk and steel with his tongue until Rob tangled one hand in his hair and held his head still.
At that irresistible grip, the painful tug on his hair, something in Michael just let go. Nothing had changed. This was still Rob, still the first boy he’d loved, the first one to break his heart. But this was also a Dom, a Dom strong enough to give him what he needed.
Right now, what he needed was that cock.
Rob smacked it against his cheek, tapped his chin, then fed the heavy shaft right between Michael’s lips.
*
He could taste Michael in his mouth; feel the imprint of that long, hard body against his own. Now Michael was taking his cock, eyes half-closed and dazed with his own orgasm. Rob almost couldn’t decide what was better, the way the nimble tongue danced along his shaft, or the way Michael looked: lips swollen and red and wrapped the fuck around Rob’s dick.
Plan B, the sneak attack, was turning out to be a success, thank God. Rob’d had a shitty day; a client had committed suicide and he’d spent the afternoon with the stunned widow. By the time he’d left the office, he hadn’t even bothered to stop home and change. He’d needed Velvet Ice. He’d wanted Michael.
Michael was melting under his touch. The harder he gripped the silky dark hair, the harder Michael sucked. Rob tried to keep it slow, it all felt so fucking good he didn’t want it to end too soon, but Michael was sucking him deep, head bobbing fast, swallowing around the tip on the down stroke, tongue doing some brain-frying twisty thing on the knot of nerves just beneath the head. Before he meant to, Rob was holding Michael still, just fucking that perfect mouth, awash in heat and sensation.
Each stroke went a little deeper. Each thrust a little harder. And Michael took every inch, swallowed hard, and blew Rob’s fucking mind.
Rob came hard, and Michael took every drop, working his cock with lips and tongue, surprising a final spurt of cream before pulling back to lick him clean. He gentled his hands in Michael’s hair, stroking now instead of gripping, and watched Michael start to come back from the place subs go when the moment and the Master are just right.
After a moment he guided the smaller man to his feet, and leaned in, wanting to taste himself on Michael’s mouth. Michael pulled back again, though, and frowned.
“I don’t kiss,” he said, and Rob knew the slight roughness in his voice was from taking his cock, and it made him want to start all over again. Then what Michael was saying filtered into his pleasure-drugged brain. “This is work, not romance. I don’t kiss here.”
Michael was wriggling his way out from between Rob and the wall, hands fumbling to lace his pants back up. Rob wondered what the fuck had just
Then those hard hands were on his shoulders, pressing hard, and it was as natural as breathing for Michael to go to his knees. Rob didn’t speak, just guided Michael’s hands behind his own neck, then unfastened his belt and the fly of his fine wool pants. Michael leaned back, bracing his shoulders on the wall and looked up the length of Rob’s body.
That fine, fat cock was free now, and Michael’s mouth was watering for it. He wanted to reach out and take, but his Mas … Rob had placed his hands behind his neck, and he couldn’t break the command. Instead he just leaned in when Rob rubbed the damp tip of his cock along Michael’s lips. He chased the salt-sweet silk and steel with his tongue until Rob tangled one hand in his hair and held his head still.
At that irresistible grip, the painful tug on his hair, something in Michael just let go. Nothing had changed. This was still Rob, still the first boy he’d loved, the first one to break his heart. But this was also a Dom, a Dom strong enough to give him what he needed.
Right now, what he needed was that cock.
Rob smacked it against his cheek, tapped his chin, then fed the heavy shaft right between Michael’s lips.
*
He could taste Michael in his mouth; feel the imprint of that long, hard body against his own. Now Michael was taking his cock, eyes half-closed and dazed with his own orgasm. Rob almost couldn’t decide what was better, the way the nimble tongue danced along his shaft, or the way Michael looked: lips swollen and red and wrapped the fuck around Rob’s dick.
Plan B, the sneak attack, was turning out to be a success, thank God. Rob’d had a shitty day; a client had committed suicide and he’d spent the afternoon with the stunned widow. By the time he’d left the office, he hadn’t even bothered to stop home and change. He’d needed Velvet Ice. He’d wanted Michael.
Michael was melting under his touch. The harder he gripped the silky dark hair, the harder Michael sucked. Rob tried to keep it slow, it all felt so fucking good he didn’t want it to end too soon, but Michael was sucking him deep, head bobbing fast, swallowing around the tip on the down stroke, tongue doing some brain-frying twisty thing on the knot of nerves just beneath the head. Before he meant to, Rob was holding Michael still, just fucking that perfect mouth, awash in heat and sensation.
Each stroke went a little deeper. Each thrust a little harder. And Michael took every inch, swallowed hard, and blew Rob’s fucking mind.
Rob came hard, and Michael took every drop, working his cock with lips and tongue, surprising a final spurt of cream before pulling back to lick him clean. He gentled his hands in Michael’s hair, stroking now instead of gripping, and watched Michael start to come back from the place subs go when the moment and the Master are just right.
After a moment he guided the smaller man to his feet, and leaned in, wanting to taste himself on Michael’s mouth. Michael pulled back again, though, and frowned.
“I don’t kiss,” he said, and Rob knew the slight roughness in his voice was from taking his cock, and it made him want to start all over again. Then what Michael was saying filtered into his pleasure-drugged brain. “This is work, not romance. I don’t kiss here.”
Michael was wriggling his way out from between Rob and the wall, hands fumbling to lace his pants back up. Rob wondered what the fuck had just
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