Page 52 of Breeding Clinic

“Oh querido Deus,” I groan, shoving my briefs down more to watch him take me to the root. He swallows, his throat constricting around my head and shaft.

Matthew pulls back, leaving only the tip in his mouth and laving it with his tongue. He fists my shaft and tugs while he sucks me. I pump into his hand. His mouth. Grip the counter when my knees nearly buckle. His cheeks hollow like he’s trying to suck my soul out through my cock.

My balls pull up tight, that dull ache forming in my pelvis. The pressure that sayssoon.

His eyes meet mine. We keep eye contact while he swirlshis tongue around my cockhead, bobbing his head. I brush the back of his throat again. And again.

“Fuck.” My eyes flutter shut as he swallows me down again. Lets me fuck his throat. I hold him in place. “That’s good.”

His eyes light up, enjoying the praise, and tears gather at the corners, making them glassy. His face flushes pink. But still he doesn’t tap out. I pull back and let him breathe. He pops off my cock to stick his tongue out to tease me. My cock taps against his lips, a mix of his saliva and my pre-cum connecting us with a thread that grows heavy, then breaks. He sucks in a lungful of air and coughs. Once his color’s better, I fist my cock and put it back to his lips.

“I’ll tell you when I’m close,” I tell him.

He nods and opens his mouth wide, sucking me down. Bobbing. Fondling my heavy balls until they pull up tight against my body. My pelvis aches again. A dull, steady thrum. Closer. Closer.There.

“Now.”

Matthew’s nostrils flare wide, and I thrust deep. Fucking down his open throat. Watching the way he struggles for air. When his face gets pink again, I can’t hold back. I give into the sensation tingling through me. Feel my entire pelvis tighten, then jerk. I come, splashing down his tight throat. Shoot my cum straight down to his belly.

When the worst of the pulsations are over, I pull out and check on him. Matthew coughs and catches his breath, wiping the smear of cum and spit from the corner of his mouth onto the back of his hand. His hair is mussed. His cheeks are pink. His lips are swollen. He looks like a perfect mess.

I help him up, then kiss him. We cuddle as much as we can, standing in a public bathroom. It’s like the good old days. Like cruising in the park as an awkward nineteen year old desperateto find another man like me. Now there are apps. Back then, it was dangerous. Part of me misses it. The thrill of spreading your legs in a stall and tapping your foot against someone else’s. Seeing them reciprocate. The little flutter your heart made with the match. Anonymous, brief encounters. Perfect in their simplicity. An itch scratched.

Here, with Matthew kneeling half-nude on a dirty bathroom floor, it feels a little like that again. Nostalgic in a way that straight people don’t understand.

“I love you,” I tell him, stroking his back.

His nose rubs against my jaw as he straightens up. “I love you too. We should head back.”

“I have a better idea.”

“We don’t have lube,” Matthew warns.

“Not that kind of idea.” We separate and fix our suits. He wets a paper towel and cleans us both up.

A quick run back to our stuff then a half-hour of standing in line later, Matthew agrees that my ideas are always the best. We return to our sun shade and blanket with handfuls of dripping ice cream cones.

Kat sees us first, looking up from her chair. She puts her book face down on the arm to keep her place. “Ice cream? I fucking love you.” She takes her double cone of mint chocolate chip and vanilla from me and licks the dribble of melting ice cream already dripping down her hand.

The rest of us go still for a beat.

“Which one’s mine?” Liam asks, distracting us from her slip up. She probably doesn’t realize what she’s said. Everyone loves ice cream. Even people who can’t eat it suffer through the consequences.

“The double cookie dough one,” I tell him, ending up with my waffle cone of pistachio and vanilla.

Matthew plops down on the big blanket and licks his chocolateand strawberry ice cream. Even sitting in the shade, it’s hot. Half our ice cream ends up dripping into the sand, and we sacrifice some of our water and paper towels to clean ourselves up. Then I join Matthew on the blanket to get some sun.

Kat goes back to her book, and Liam hovers over all of us like a fussing mother hen. He offers us water bottles from the cooler, then reminds them to reapply sunscreen. There are sandwiches and fresh fruit too, he explains. He’s packed enough food to keep us fed for days instead of hours.

Rolling onto my stomach on the blanket, I wrap my hand around Kat’s sandy ankle and stroke her with my thumb. She glances at me and smiles, then goes back to reading her book.

Maybe she didn’t mean it yet. Maybe it was only a slip of the tongue. But I’d like to think it’s the beginning of something more. And I’m excited to see where that goes.

Chapter Twelve

LIAM

“One pumpkin spicedecaf latte with an extra pump of caramel syrup and whipped cream with a cinnamon sugar sprinkle,” I say. I hand Kat her tall white cup of coffee that’s more like a dessert.

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