Page 10 of Coach's Son
“We should get out of here,” I add, already picturing what comes next. Couldn’t wait to get him home, tear that suit from his toned body, get my hands on the perfect curve of his arse. Taste him. Take my time with him until neither of us remembers this bloody gala or that my prat of a twin exists.
Weburstintomydowntown apartment. Tearing off my tan suit and tasting Austin’s lips. This time, there’s no holding back, I want to hear him scream my name. Fuck him into submission. Until he’s got no breath left for anything butyes, sirandyou’re my captain.
“You look so fucking delicious right now,” I growl, my mouth nibbling his jaw while tearing off his suite jacket.
“I do my best for my Captain,” he whispers in between his needy moans that make my tadger stand to attention like the Queen's Guard.
“That’s right, love. And your Captain’s going to take care of you… make sure everyone in this city knows who you belong to.” My fingers dig into his pelvis, pulling him hard against me. Drew’s smug face flashes through my mind, and I press even closer, letting the weight of my body pin him in place.
“Mine,” I murmur against his ear, low and dangerous. “Every fucking ounce of you is mine.”
“Yes, Charlie," he whimpers helplessly.
The way he utters those words sends a wave of lust through me. I grip his chin, his eyes deadlocked on mine. “Say it again.”
“Yes, Charlie” he repeats.
I glance down to see his cock bulging against his pants. He fucking loves it. Being obedient for me. “That’s my good boy. My good lad.” I kiss him hard, making him pant against me, like a bitch that can't catch their breath. “Drew could stand right outside that door and he’d still know he’ll never get this. Never touch you. He can queue up with the rest of the hopeless bastards.”
His pupils dilate, amber completely swallowed by the pitch blackness. I hear his heart pounding, fit to burst underneath my touch. He’s ready to be handled by a man that knows precisely what he needs. By his captain.
I push him toward the bedroom, my pace slows on purpose, teasing him through my own flat. “On the bed,” I order, my voice a feral growl. “Clothes off. Face down. Arse up.”
Istand at the doorway, arms in a fold, watching him strip frantically. He's aching to be stuffed by my prick. To get properly creamed by a hung bloke.
Austin’s practically dripping precum by the time he gets down to his jockstrap. He always wears one. Every bloody day. It’s something that we agreed upon shortly after dating. Nothing winds me up faster than the sight of his fit arse framed perfectly by those straps. When I'm done with him, his cheeks will be imprinted with my palms—flared red in their outline.
I let my gaze lollygag for a long moment, knowing that he’s enjoying every second of my attention. “Stay right there lad, but perk your ass up for your Captain like you mean it.”
“Yes, Sir,” he whimpers, his thighs quivering at my words.
He says it so softly, so obediently, it makes my fingers bleed into the door frame. He shifts on the bed, arching just enough to give me the perfect view, knowing the sight of his vulnerable arse drives me bloody insane.
His arse is practically screaming:eat me, fuck me, steer me captain.
I step forward at a dreadful pace, the slow tap of my feet against the floorboards echoing in the quiet. Every sound is for him—a reminder of who’s coming for him. “That’s it boy,” I murmur, standing just behind him. “Show your Captain what’s his. Show him who you belong to…”
He pushes back slightly, a wicked little tease that makes me want to skip straight to plowing his pink flesh. But not yet. Austin loves this. The slow burn, the taunting, the weight of my attention fixed solely on him. He craves pleasing me as much as I crave having him.
And I’ll give him everything. Worship him in a way that cements me into his identity—so he never eventhinksabout leaving. No one will touch him like I do. Not my twat of a brother, not some filthy bear at the club, not anyone. Only I can feed the hunger in him, only I can sate those filthy little desires he doesn’t dare voice to anyone else.
“What a perfect hole you have,” I grumble, admiring his dark, curly hairs that cover his pink flesh. “Ripe to be ravaged.”
“Yes sir,” Austin moans, shaking his ass in my face. His trembles tempt every waft of restraint in me.
“Stroke your cock for me,” I command.
Without hesitation he strokes himself furiously. Balls jiggling back and forth as he buries his moans into the pillow. His hole gaping, begging for my direct attention. But not yet. It's bloody brilliant to see him egg himself on, to watch him arrive to the precipice of desire.
“That’s it, lad,” I murmur, stepping closer, letting my shadow cast over him.
“Do you enjoy stroking yourself for your Captain?”
“Y—yes!” he whimpers, breathless. “Please… fuck me.”
“Do you think you deserve it? Have you been a good boy?” I taunt, starting to jerk myself, savouring the view of him. How vulnerable and delectable he is with his arse perked up for me to fancy.
“Yes! Sir, I promise I have been.”
