Page 42 of Running Feral

It’s not a flattering sound, but it makes my feelings clear. I grab onto his shoulders for dear life while he squeezes my ass with his other hand as well, and soon he’s built up a rhythm. It’s like I’m riding him, but he’s guiding me, controlling the movement with his firm, tender grasp.

It’s incredible. But I still need to feel his skin against mine.

With fumbling hands, I tug down my sweats to tuck them under my balls and then do the same to him, just like before. The elastic is more restrictive in this position, but I kind of like it. Everything feels tight and intense, like I’m being held against him by a rubber band.

Once we’re both free, I use one hand to jerk us off and the other to lean against his chest. He’s still controlling my movements by rolling my hips against his, and it’s all coming together with a synchronicity I never would have expected.

It’s so luxurious. What is really just a quick and dirty mutual jerk off on the outside somehow feels like the most intoxicating, indulgent sex I’ve ever had. I don’t bother to hold back the noises that I want to make, no matter how loud or over the top. I commit every noise he makes to memory.

“That’s it, little one,” he says, his voice strained. “You’re doing so well. Look at you riding me, making me come with your perfect hand.”

I let out a whine, because whenever he says these things, it makes my stomach clench with embarrassment while my dick gets even harder.

“Perfect. That’s it. Don’t stop touching me. Such a good boy to make me come so hard. Come with me.”

The last sentence is said on a gasp, and then I feel his cock pulse against to mine. Thick ropes of cum spurt out, so muchmore cum and with so much more force than I was expecting. Gunnar is completely tense from head to toe, his fingers digging into the muscle of my ass while I work him through it, his chest and my hand both coated in his load.

He lets out this raspy, broken groan that fucking does me in. With another stroke, I join him. My cum streaks across his t-shirt, mingling with his, and I clutch at the fabric to hold myself up as all the blood in my body floods away from my brain.

I’m panting so hard I can’t think straight. The buzz of orgasm is still in my veins, and I’m not ready to let go. Without thinking, I drop both of our cocks and lean forward.

There’s cum everywhere. Gunnar’s ruined shirt, his beard, the hair-covered portion of his stomach that was exposed where the shirt rode up. I want it.

I start licking at every stripe of cum I can find. The need to have him inside me—like this, not in the way I can’t think about yet—is sudden and overwhelming. Gunnar freezes, but he doesn’t stop me. He moans when I lick across the skin under his belly button, and when I get to his neck, he lifts his chin to give me better access.

It’s perfect. Simple. I lick and suck and devour every drop of him that I can find until I finally collapse on top of him; my spent dick still hanging out and more exhausted than I have any right to be.

Now I might consider trying to go back to sleep.

We lie there for a long time. Cleanup is needed. Food as well, probably. Getting up and doing real-people things. But right now, this feels good, and also like the maximum amount of things I’m willing to handle.

“Tobias?” Gunnar breaks the silence after a long time, his arms still wrapped around me as I lie on top of him, his fingers tracing patterns over my back.

“You know you say my name a lot. I kind of like it. It sounds prettier when you say it, for some reason.”

“It’s a pretty name,” he says.

I shrug. I guess, but I’ve never really had feelings one way or the other.

“It’s Polish. Or popular in Poland, or something. My deadbeat dad picked it, apparently. According to my mom, he was very insistent, which is weird for a kid you have no intention of ever meeting. At least she gave me her last name. I’d look dumb as hell walking around with a Polish last name.”

Gunnar pauses for a while, frowning before he responds. “Maybe he intended to meet you, but then something happened. Or maybe he just changed his mind and started making shitty choices. It’s nice that he cared a little, right? Even if it was only for a minute?” Then he smiles, touching me on the cheek. “I don’t think you’d look dumb with any kind of last name.”

Another shrug. “Whatever. It doesn’t affect me.” Because I have nothing to do with that man, and the fact that he named even a part of me is bad enough.

Gunnar tenses, like he’s about to say something else, but nothing comes out.

“Sorry, wait,” I add. “You were going to ask me something?”

“Oh, yeah. I was just going to say… I’m sorry I pushed against this. I was wrong. And a dumbass. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

Now I lift my head enough to look him in the eye. It’s hard to keep myself from feeling the storm of emotion forming in my head, but I do my best to push it all down.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “We gotta get you out of all that shit, though. You can’t be trapped up here like a princess in a tower forever.”

We both laugh at that, but it’s forced. Probably because neither of us has any idea how that’s going to happen.

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