Page 83 of Petrichor

I can’t live without this anymore. Without him. My Butterfly.

“I need you.” His raspy confession takes my breath away.

I lose every shred of composure within a single moment thrusting into him like I have every right to use him how I please. And I fucking do. Fly would never refuse me. Because he’s mine.

The red teeth imprint I left on his ass turns the sight of my cock pumping in and out of him even more depraved. I feel the urge to roar all my satisfaction. But I don’t, Fly is already making enough noises.

“Those helpless sounds you make drive me fucking crazy.”

He parts his lips wider and makes more, earning a merciless pounding. My hand wraps around his mouth, muffling his loud cries. I love to hear his lust for me, but I don’t want someone interrupting us.

“I shaped your ass into my personal fuckhole, so damn sloppy wet,” I grunt, loving the slurping sounds his drenched insides make every time I thrust.

Fly is licking at my palm covering his mouth, moaning unintelligible words of pleasure. His lust-drunk eyes are fixed on our reflection in the mirror. He’s totally surrendered to me, given me all the power, the control. Letting me batter him against a bathroom sink while people can hear us from outside. Seeing him half naked, debauched, taking my cock so submissively makes me pick up the pace, driving Fly up the hard counter. We are like wild animals, uncaring about anything but our desires.

He pushes my hand down. “You’re so-so deep inside. Do I feel good?”

I groan a yes. “The best fucking hole I ever had.” The last one I’ll ever fuck, I promise myself.

I’m filling him up so good, he can’t catch his breath, gasping for air. “I’ll cream in you, all over you,” I rumble, out of my mind.

Fly loves my cum. He’s truly a cum slut. He lets me shoot wherever and however I want. Whether I stick my cock in his mouth and face fuck him, getting him a nice load as he half chokes on my cock, or mark my territory by pulling out and giving him a facial orjerking off over his chest or spent cock and ass. It’s like making my own porn movie, where I keep breeding him, filling his insides with my hot jizz. I watch him eagerly cry out; his face contorts in bliss, knowing the contents of my balls are coating his insides. Knowing he’s absorbing some of my fucking DNA. I can reduce him to a quivering mess, begging for more while I pass hours stuffing both holes with warm cum. I growl at the memories, driving inside him harder and harder as his face crumples into sobs.

This is the only cock he’ll have, nobody else’s. “Mine,” I mutter deliriously. “Say you’re mine. Now! Say it.”

“You’re mine,” he repeats, out of it, making me smirk. Then he clenches me hard, and I groan as his eyes cross.

He slides his hand inside his panties and starts beating himself off. I can see his arm pumping, and fuck, that’s hot.

“Who are you letting fuck you in a dirty bathroom? Whose cock is pounding you this good? Let everybody hear my name,” I growl menacingly, gripping his neck as my balls draw up tight.

“Marco. Marco.” Fly was born to moan my name.

His whole body convulses, as everything goes bright. I lose all my other sensations. I can only feel pleasure, overwhelming, spreading all over my body. So intense, I can almost feel our souls intertwine as I shoot my possessive mark unbearably deep in Fly’s body.

“There it is!” he cries with satisfaction. “Give it all to me. Damn! That’s a hefty load.”

“Got more for you. Open that greedy mouth.” I start to pull out, but he grabs onto my ass, holding my dick inside, making it spurt more.

“I want it all up here this time. I’ll suck you later.” Who’d ever say no to that?

A minute or two later, I finally regain my breath, but my vision takes rather longer to recover.

I keep Fly against my chest, all sweat-soaked and trembling. I kiss his ear, stroke down his throat and chest, feeling the cold fabric of his top under my fingers.

“Next time, you’re on top of me, cowboy style. I want to see this bitable ass bouncing with each thrust you take.” I smack it. The sound echoes inside the small bathroom together with his gasp. He shivers as I drive my half-hard cock in, pulling on his abused hole one last time, drowning in his warmth.

I push his chin up—shifting his head on my shoulder—and kiss him slowly, leisurely letting our tongues express the profound and ineluctable gratification we are feeling. When I lift my head, he chases my mouth, nipping at the lower lip.

“You’re still in me.” He clenches his inner muscles to emphasize his words while still going at my lip.

If I could, my cock would never leave him. “You are the one not letting go of my dick.”

He chuckles; it ends in a satisfied sigh. “Hug me until I smell like you.”

I hum, halting my hands from stroking his hips and pecs to wrap my arms around him tightly.

“Your face is all prickly,” he says, rubbing his forehead on my stubbled chin. But it doesn’t seem as though he minds, as he keeps stroking his cheek, lips, and nose over it. And fondling my ass—his fingers too close to my hole for my liking.

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