Page 7 of Scrooged for the Holidays
I wet my lips and snap my fingers. His clothes disappear from his body, and his hard cock slaps against his washboard stomach. In any other situation, I’d make a joke about an old man being able to get his dick so hard, but we’re all old.
I stand in front of his face, lining it up with his wide-open mouth. His lightly stubbled chin moves in further permission. I dip my cock in, the warm, wet hole creating the perfect sleeve for me to fuck.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we were fully human, if we’d met like humans do and had human jobs and human lifespans. One thing I know would be different is that I wouldn’t be able to be as rough with Sam as I can be now.
With that thought in mind, I plunge down his throat, my balls covering his nose. He moans around my cock, and I cut off his air supply until his hands grip my thighs. I pull back, and he inhales. I do it again and again. In and out, in and out. I watch as my shaft makes his throat expand and he swallows around me for heightened pleasure.
“Fuck, yes. That feels so fucking good, baby.”
I grasp his throat with my palm and gently squeeze, fucking him deeper, harder. I love the way my cock feels when it moves under my hand. My gaze drifts to his stomach, abs contracting as he chokes on me. I spy a little puddle of his pre-cum that’s gathered below his navel from how turned on he is.
He gave me permission to touch, so I’m going to touch.
I shift forward and seal my mouth over the weeping crown of his dick, the salty yet sweet taste of him exploding on my tongue. His hands pull at the back of my thighs, taking me somehow deeper into his throat. I moan around his head and suck. He’s so hot, so hard, and I fucking love it. I take him further down, and his nails dig into my flesh.
“Fuck,” I mumble, using one of my hands to cup and roll his balls. They tighten in my grip—he’s close to coming. We both need a release, and I know he wants to taste my lust just as much as I want to taste his.
I slide off his dick, tightening my hold on his balls. “Make me come, Samael. Play with my asshole.”
My body shudders as his hand creeps up my taint and one of his long fingers presses against my tight ring of muscles. I suckhis dick back in my mouth, the girth of him stretching my lips, and he inserts his finger inside me, pressing to the spot he knows makes me come.
I let out a guttural groan, pleasure overtaking me. My release spills down his throat, and I suck him harder so he comes, too. He moans on my twitching cock as his taste coats my tongue. I do my best to drink him down like a top-shelf whiskey, basking in my orgasm while wringing pleasure from his body.
When I’m spent and his shaft softens in my mouth, I pull away, dropping to my knees. I wipe a bit of cum from Sam’s swollen lips, pressing it against his tongue. His glassy eyes simmer as he sucks it clean, and I reverently kiss him while he’s still upside-down.
“Feeling better?” I ask as I pull away, helping him sit up.
Sam snaps his fingers, and his clothes are back on as if they never left in the first place, leaving me the only one naked. He straightens the cuffs of his black button-up and licks his lips with a low hum. “For now.”
I use my pointer finger to lift his chin to meet mine. His usual broody, sexy not-quite-smile is back on his sharp features. Yet his cheeks remain flushed, and he smells like sinful sex.
“If you need me again?”
He nods and stands, forcing me to step back. “I know where to find you.”
We exchange a subtle grin at the inside joke. We always know where to find each other—well, mostly. We couldn’t find Remi earlier, but we should have known he went to Garland. Probably got one of Holly’s steaks without us, the handsome asshole.
Sam snaps his fingers, and my own clothes reappear. Unlike Sam, I’m dressed the opposite of formal. My clothing style is casual to match the setting of the bar.
I run my hands down the long-sleeved light-brown Henley. “Thanks.”
He nods, and my phone pings. “Shit. I forgot it went off while my cock was down your throat.”
Sam’s eyes narrow, but I note the hidden humor in his eyes. Guy acts broody and indifferent a lot of times, but he’s got more feelings than Remi and I combined. It’s why he needs to be grounded by us when he spirals.
I snap my fingers to get my phone from where it lay on the bar and read the message from Remi. With the pleasure of my orgasm fading, I’m reminded of why Sam and I ended up being intimate in this way in the first place. The energy shift last night, the insatiable hunger we all felt that led to hard and fast sex. Even after I had Sam’s and Remi’s cum inside me, I still wanted more.
That hungry itch reappears in my stomach again, and Sam clears his throat. I place my hand on his shoulder, knowing he feels it, too. I thought we’d satisfied it for the time being. I guess not.
“Relax,” I say softly. “Remi is on his way back. He says he has something important to tell us.”
“I do.”
Both of us look toward the entrance to find the missing piece of our trio. He flings snow from his short dark-blond hair and wipes a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. Despite our inability to feel the cold like full humans do, his nose is pink from the storm raging outside, his skin reacting to the brutality of Mother Nature.
“Our visitor arrives tonight,” he says as he steps forward, his tall, muscular frame taking up the space of the doorway.
“How do you know?” Sam asks, his shoulders straightening as he looks into Remi’s eyes.
