Page 38 of Dropping Like Flies

It was a better idea, Griffin stroking my cock until I was so intent on not coming that I hadn’t even registered him being balls deep. I braced my hands on his broad shoulders as I slowly rocked on him, Griffin’s eyes closing and his head tipping back. I didn’t want to do it in this position, Griffin instinctively understanding my desires and helping to support my hips as I leaned back, raising my arse while keeping my shoulders touching the bed.

The position gave Griffin full control. Control of my arse and control of my cock. I might be on top, but he chose how fast, how hard, and how deep. Either I was setting myself up for him to tease or torment me until I wanted to kill him. Or he’d bring us both to a shuddering orgasm within minutes.

“It’s strange,” he said, his hands sliding up my thighs to get a better grip.

“What is?” I kept up the slight rocking of my arse over his cock, hoping it would provoke him into getting this show on the road.

“Using a condom with you.”

“Yeah.” I could hardly disagree when I’d had the same thought earlier. I prayed he wouldn’t suggest doing it without, not knowing whether I had the strength of will to do what was sensible and stick to safe sex.

Griffin’s hands roamed, paying homage to me being stretched out in front of him—the perfect sacrificial lamb for whatever he wanted to do. His fingers traced my ribs, stroked over my collarbone, and then tweaked a nipple. They dropped lower, leaving goosebumps over my abdomen before encircling my cock. Not stroking. Not caressing. Just grasping it like it was his rather than mine.

“It’s funny,” he said.

“What is?” My voice was far from steady, the delicious fullness in my arse making it difficult to think of anything else.

“Seeing you do your job the last few days… I thought you’d changed. Become far more buttoned up.” He gave my cock a little waggle. “But seeing you here, impaled on my cock, you haven’t.”

I laughed. “Man is different in bed than he is at work. I don’t think the ten o’clock news is going to be leading with that anytime soon.” Another nipple tweak. This one harder, like he intended it as a punishment for my sarcasm. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Yeah.” Another sweep of Griffin’s hands over my skin that left me tingling. “I’m going to fuck you.” He flicked my cock, the slight sting of pain only making me hornier. “Going to fuck you. Going to stroke your cock. Going to make you come all over yourself and then I’m going to lick it off. Every single drop.”

“When?” There was no keeping the note of desperation out of my voice.

Griffin grinned as he let go of my cock to slide his hands beneath the globes of my arse, his grip rough. “Now.”

The first deep thrust had me crying out, the position I’d put myself in leaving me no recourse but to take it. “Can you feel it?” Griffin rasped out as he paused.

I knew what he was asking. Not if I could feel him fucking me, because of course I could. But whether I could feel both parts: the sensation of sliding deep within my arse and being fucked. The necromancer bond made it almost indistinguishable, Griffin’s sensations so entangled with mine when we were intimate that it became impossible to know where he began and I ended. “Yeah, I can feel it.”

“How does it feel?” he asked as he almost withdrew and then slid deep again.

“Like silk,” I gasped out. “Like hot silk. Like I’m gripping myself so tightly I’m already in danger of coming.”

“Yeah.” Griffin panted as he delivered another deep thrust, his chest suffused with a red glow. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

And then there was no more talking, both of us concentrating on the exquisite feel of fucking and being fucked at the same time. It hadn’t always been like this. The first couple of months, at least if you took away how drawn to each we’d been and the knowledge we were meant to be together, had been normal. And then this had developed, along with the ability to feel each other’s emotions and taste what the other tasted, and it had only gotten stronger. We’d found it funny, Griffin even insisting on carrying out a blind taste test with one of us blindfolded and identifying what the other was eating.

Our ability to guess accurately had surprised us both. Of course, once we’d split, and it hadn’t gone away, or even faded, it had quickly lost its charm, both of us using it to punish the other. Just like Griffin had done with the olives during my one-night stand, turning it from scratching an itch into something that hadn’t even done that. It was hard to resent that bond, though, when it was currently giving me this, my body on fire, and the first tingles of orgasm already making themselves known without so much as a hand on my cock.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I gasped out as Griffin lifted his hips higher off the bed to really hammer into me, his body dripping with sweat. As he bucked up, I slammed down, my hips working just as hard as his.

“Close,” he said, his slick palm fastening around my cock to stroke it in time with his thrusts. Just like with the fucking, I could feel both, his hand on my cock and my cock beneath his hand, the two things combining to drive me crazy. From that point, it was game over, my cock jerking within a few strokes to release spurt after spurt of hot cum all over my chest.

I collapsed back on the bed, panting, while Griffin let out a growl and took control of my body to bring himself to completion. He shuddered and thrust deep before finally releasing in the condom, a pang of longing at not being able to feel his cum dribbling out of me, hitting.

We were both still for the longest time, the air full of ragged breaths. I winced when Griffin finally eased out of me, my arse much tighter now I was no longer aroused. There was a flurry of movement as he got rid of the condom and then a warm, wet tongue on my chest collecting the rivulets of cum, even pursuing one to where it had dribbled beneath my armpit.

I lifted my head and laughed. “You don’t really have to do that.”

He ran a tongue over my nipple, the sensation making my spent cock twitch. “I always keep my word.”

Although we were both wise enough not to say it, I knew we were both thinking the same thing: that he didn’t. If he had, we’d be married now. It was enough to ruin the moment, Griffin drawing back and a strange tension stealing over us. In the past, we would have cuddled, Griffin’s strong arms always the perfect panacea to a post-sex come down. Should I try to instigate that? It wasn’t the past, though, was it? It was a strange limbo like state, where we might have dipped a toe back into the waters of our relationship, but where nothing had been discussed or decided upon.

Griffin cleared his throat. “You can use the bathroom first.” Mistaking my lack of movement in that direction as confusion, he elaborated. “You know, to clean up.” He waved a hand at my chest, which despite Griffin’s best efforts with his tongue was still decidedly sticky.

“Thanks.” I struggled to my feet and ignored the decidedly sore twinge in my arse as I walked to the bathroom. Once there, it was a relief to close the door and step into the shower, the torrent of hot water providing a perfect place to think. The most important thing was to not let myself get carried away. We might have had sex, but sex wasn’t a magic cure. Not even sex like Griffin and I had. There was still a conversation to be had. One that I would no doubt have to instigate. Not tonight, though. We both needed sleep because who knew what tomorrow might bring? I could pray all I liked that it wouldn’t bring another victim of Satanic Romeo, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.

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