Page 39 of False Comeback

“Yes,” he wailed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—f-fuck, I’m coming—”

“No.” I squeezed the head of his cock in a tight fist, pinching the slit closed around his piercing. A desperate shout left him as he bucked his hips to try and shake my hand off, so I barked, “Stay fucking still.”

He whimpered but obeyed, his body trembling as his toes curled, one ankle still hooked over the rope. The slightest shift of my finger inside him had him shuddering hard, his body trying to curl up even more than it already was.

“Good boy,” I rasped, then pulled my finger free and leaned down to spit on his hole. A garbled moan left him, eyes rolling back.

Sliding my fist lower, I gave the slick tip of his cock a wet, tonguing kiss. His teeth sank into his lower lip, chest heaving with manic breaths.

“Don’t move and I’ll let you come,” I purred, circling his hole before sinking my finger back inside and pressing it firmly against his prostate. He choked, clenching around it.

I could feel how tense he was, trying desperately to keep still as I began sucking his cock and stimulating his prostate with tiny strokes of my fingertip. His legs were shaking wildly, his breathing speeding up even more and growing shallow and frantic, until he started moaning uncontrollably on every exhale.

But he managed to keep mostly still, and I was impressed. I was reluctant to stop for even a second, but I slid my mouth free just long enough to rasp, “Now,” before sucking him back inside.

Immediately, he stiffened even more and cried out, strained and desperate, as his cock flexed against my tongue. A breathless moan escaped me as his cum pumped into the back of my throat, hole clenching around the base of my finger.

“I c-can’t—oh fuck, it won’t stop,” I heard him moan hoarsely, and I groaned as I kept massaging his prostate, milking him until he was quaking wildly with overstimulation. Only then did I ease my finger free, giving the tip of his cock one last lick before I lifted my head, my breaths ragged.

Trembling with need, I scrambled to my feet and planted them on either side of his hips as I fisted my aching cock and stroked fast. Crossbody was already leaning in to capture the head in his mouth and suck desperately, moaning around me.

It was only seconds before my hips stuttered and a hoarse groan left me as I spurted onto his tongue. He licked and sucked feverishly, making sure to get every drop of cum while I shuddered with intense pleasure, my hand shaking as it gripped my throbbing cock.

I found myself reaching out to smooth back his messy hair as I stared down at him with dazed eyes, my chest heaving, my legs unsteady and threatening to buckle.

He kept on sucking even after my orgasm ended, eyes closed, his frantic breaths beginning to calm. When a reluctant hiss left me, my cock growing too sensitive, his eyes fluttered open, and my whole body tensed up again, for a different reason this time.

I knew what was about to happen. He was going to get angry and defensive and tell me to fuck off.

And I didn’t blame him.

Once again, I had no fucking idea how that had happened. I had no idea why this kept happening. I was sure he didn’t either.

But I knew one thing. This couldn’t happen again. It wasn’t… healthy. It was weird and jarring and making me confused.

It couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t.

I was pretty sure I’d thought that after the last time, though. And here we were.

Chapter Thirteen

A Fae Prince’s Worn Jockstrap

Vince

I slowly swung my leg over so I wasn’t standing over him, still clutching my tingling cock. Crossbody’s breathing was shallow but beginning to calm, and he appeared dazed as his hooded eyes opened and his throat clicked with a swallow.

He wasn’t telling me to fuck off yet, so I stuffed my dick back into my shorts and quickly reached for the shirt restraining his wrists.

“Are your arms sore?” I asked hoarsely, wincing as I wondered if saying anything would trigger his defensive anger. But I had to ask. I had to make sure he was alright.

He licked his lips, his whole body trembling lightly, and shook his head. “No.”

When his arms were free, he slowly lowered them and pressed his palms into the mat, as if he was preparing to stand up. But he looked exhausted, wrung out and maybe in a tiny bit of shock, so when he didn’t move, I hurriedly lunged for his shorts.

The guilt was already rising back up, and with it came a desperation to do something for him. As if that would make it okay.

Discarding his jock, I gently slipped his shorts over his feet and up his legs, silently shocked when he let me. My palms skimmed his thighs, and an inexplicable lump formed in my throat when I felt how much they were quaking.