Page 91 of Hurricane Love

“Right here?” Wylie asked, hitting it again.

“Fuck yes, baby, please?” Diego was trembling now, taut as a tuning fork and stretched to his limit, which was right where Wylie wanted him.

“I could come right now and leave you hanging, make you go to drinks with our friends with blue balls,” Wylie taunted.

“You wouldn’t,” Diego said, sounding a little nervous.

“I might,” Wylie sing-songed. He traced the throbbing vein at the base of Diego’s cock and squeezed both his balls to make his point. “You gotta convince me that you’ve earned this one, babe. I’ve been doing all this work back here and you’ve hardly said a word.”

Diego was a quiet, thoughtful man whose expressions often turned inward. He took his time and liked to mull things over, but even respecting that about him, Wylie wanted him to be comfortable with communicating his needs in bed, especially as their dynamic shifted over time. He never wanted to do anything to truly upset Diego, so check-ins like these were necessary.

“Fuck…what do you want me to say?” Diego asked, sounding a little desperate.

“The usual. ‘Please, baby. More, Wylie. Rail me harder, daddy,with that big, fat dick. God, how I love you. Marry me or I’ll die’.” The last part Wylie threw in for good measure, wishing to plant the seeds of their future nuptials.

Diego snorted, something between amusement and impatience. “Move your ass and maybe I will.”

“Hmm, try again,” Wylie said and corrected him with a sharp spank to his rear end.

Diego stilled, then cleared his throat and made his voice as beseeching as possible. “Wy, please, let me come. I’ll make you a million chicken parms and suck you off on command. Whenever you want it.”

Fuck, but that was enticing. Having Diego blow him in the morning before he got out of bed with only a word or a look or taking a study break to have him already down there on his knees with his mouth wide open. Or maybe he’d text him when he was on his way home…

“Would you wait for me to come home? Be ready for me on your knees.”

“Yes…” Diego groaned. “Whatever you want. Now fuck me, please?”

Wylie couldn’t get a better deal than that. He moved then, syncing up in perfect harmony, giving Diego more of what he wanted in just the right way. His lover reacted in kind, partnering with him in a dance they both knew so well. Wylie controlled the rhythm, allowing Diego to fully let go as his more animalistic side surfaced. His big body trembled beneath him and he said in a rasping, desperate voice, “Yes, Wy. Please.More.More of that. Right there. God, it feels so good. I need to…need to fuckingblow.Please, baby. I love you so much. Please let me finish?Pleeeease?”

Wylie was more than satisfied with Diego’s response, and a primal part of him needed to make his man orgasm, despite his threats of denial. He deftly removed the ring and took hold of Diego’s cock, jerking him hard and fast as he delivered his final, bruising thrusts, sparking Diego’s prostate in what he knew would be the crescendo to this performance.

Diego bellowed like a bull as his cock spurted into Wylie’s fist, an abundance of cum that seeped out between Wylie’s knuckles and dripped onto the bedsheets. Wylie came soon after with a gasp of pleasure and a warmth in his chest–satisfaction, pride, and gratitude—thankful again that he had this man in his life to love and cherish.

Wylie held out his cummy hand, and Diego licked it clean, giving them both some additional time to come back to themselves. With his other hand he rubbed Diego’s back, then fisted his hair, continuing to center him through their recovery, moments that were essential for Diego’s peace of mind and couldn’t be rushed.

“How you feeling?” Wylie asked as part of their check-in. Diego was now lying on his back and staring up at him with a dazed expression while Wylie knelt between his spread thighs.

“Good,” Diego said in that slightly stoned, post-orgasm voice of his.

“What’d you think of the cock ring?”

“Fucking sucked,” Diego said, “but I liked it.”

Wylie smiled. He’d suspected as much. “What about when I spanked you?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Diego said with a dreamy smile. Wylie made a mental note to explore that more in the future.

“You know you shouldn’t make such tempting promises during sex,” Wylie warned in regards to his carte blanche on blow jobs. “I might hold you to it.”

“Then do it,” Diego challenged, meeting his lusting gaze head-on.

Wylie was floored, yet again, by his adventurous lover and instead of answering right away, he handed Diego the glass of water and watched him swallow it down while waiting for his turn to take a drink. Setting the glass aside, Wylie grabbed his vape and Diego rolled over onto his stomach, head turned toward him as he asked, “Not going to clean me up?”

“Not yet,” Wylie said. He was in no rush to move from this bed, nor from the sweet, sensuous bubble of their lovemaking.

“My underwear’s going to be damp all night from where your splooge leaks out,” Diego complained, shifting from the sensation.

Wylie eyed the slope of Diego’s back, the gorgeous dip before the rise of his ass, a landscape Wylie had memorized with his mouth and his hands. He should commission one of his art student friends to paint Diego, then frame it and hang it up on their wall.