Chapter 147: Oliver Reyes Is Definitely Not A Bottom (18+)
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I could barely think...ever coherent thought had long jumped out the window, fingers weaving through his dark hair while his tongue moved expertly, swirling around the sensitive tip before going down, taking more and more each time.
The wet warmth of his mouth wrapped around me completely, and every low hum of pleasure from him shot straight through me, dragging out sounds from my throat that I hardly recognized as mine.
Before I knew it, my hips started moving, faster but then with a growing urgency as the pleasure built like a wave I couldn’t hold back.
Damien’s hands were steady on my thighs, not pinning me down but guiding me, urging me to let go.
"D-Damien," I gasped, my voice shaking as a heat coiled tightly in my belly. My thrusts became wild, quicker and shallow, the slick glide of his lips and the occasional brush of his throat overwhelming. I tried to warn him, tugging at his hair with whatever strength I had left.
"I’m—I’m close, damn it, you need to stop if you—Shit!"
But he didn’t stop. In fact, he took me deeper, quickening his pace with a fervor that left no room for doubt.
His eyes shot up to mine, dark with desire and something possessive, and he hollowed his cheeks, sucking even harder.
I gripped his hair tighter, trying to pull him back, instinctively wanting to be considerate, but Damien just moaned around me, sending fresh sparks up my spine.
It hit me then, through the haze of sensation, he wanted this. He wanted me to finish like this, down his throat, and that thought made my face flush hotter than the actual pleasure.
"Oh god," I whimpered, my body shaking as the pressure built, unstoppable, and with one final, shaky thrust, I came hard.
Waves of bliss crashed over me, my cock pulsing as I spilled into the warm confines of his mouth. Damien didn’t pull away for a second.
He swallowed eagerly, rhythmically, his throat moving with each pull as he took every drop like it was the finest fucking thing he’d ever tasted.
His eyes stayed locked on mine, heavy-lidded with satisfaction, a soft groan escaping him as if my pleasure fed his own.
It felt endless; my hips twitched with aftershocks while he continued to coax me gently, milking out the last bits until I was totally spent and hypersensitive.
I collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, my limbs feeling like liquid. The room spun slightly, the dim light from the living room casting playful shadows as I tried to catch my breath.
Holy shit. That had been... indescribable. My mind was a pleasant mix of exhaustion and lingering sparks.
Damien finally pulled away with a soft, wet sound that made me shiver, giving one last lingering kiss to the tip before crawling back up to me.
His weight settled over me just right...grounding but not crushing and he began showering my face with slow, gentle kisses my forehead, my flushed cheeks, the corner of my mouth, even the tip of my nose.
His hands roamed everywhere, warm and curious, tracing the lines of my ribs, smoothing over my stomach, cupping my hips with a tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the feverish hunger just moments before.
"That’s my good boy," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough but laced with affectionate teasing. "You taste even better than I imagined for so long, sunshine. So damn sweet."
I let out a weak laugh, feeling a mix of embarrassment and delight, swatting at his shoulder but still melting under his touch.
"Shut up..." But there was no heat behind it.
My fingers found their way into his hair again, tugging lightly as he kissed along my jaw, whispering praises that made my heart stumble...how responsive I was, how perfect I felt, how long he’d waited for this.
His hands never stopped moving, soothing the aftershocks in my thighs, brushing feather-light touches over my spent cock until I was squirming with overstimulation, laughter bubbling up despite myself.
Eventually, he pulled himself up, that cocky smirk making a return as he stood from the bed.
I watched, still dazed, as he walked over to his dresser with that effortless confidence, the muscles in his back shifting in the low light.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a small bottle of lube, turning it over in his hands as he made his way back to me. His blue eyes were locked on me, filled with raw, unrestrained desire, and my breath caught in my throat again.
He popped the cap open slowly, the sound slicing through the quiet room like a promise, and I felt my eyes widen, a fresh wave of nervous anticipation coiling in my gut.
He smirked down at me, towering there, still flushed from what we’d just done. "Scared yet, Oliver?"
I gulped, trying to summon some of my usual pride even as my pulse raced.
"Of...of course not. I’m not a pussy." The words came out steadier than I felt, but inside, I was a whirlwind of thoughts.
This was really happening!
Damien’s laughter was warm and rich, filling the space between us as he crawled back over me, his body caging mine in the most intoxicating way.
"Of course a big tough guy like you isn’t scared of anything," he teased, his voice dropping lower as he slicked his fingers with the lube.
The cool scent filled the air, and I braced myself, expecting him to prep himself. But to my surprise, and growing panic...he started to reach lower instead, his slick fingers trailing towards my ass.
No no no! Wait a fucking minute!!!
My eyes went wide open as my face was two seconds from catching on fire. "Wait! A...am I the bottom?!"
The question burst out before I could stop it, my voice cracking with shock and disbelief.
He frowned, giving me a look that pretty much said "What else would you be?"
I couldn’t believe it, all this time I thought I had the upper hand...
I was a bottom in the end.
I couldn’t help but glance at his cock, which was straining against his pants, thick and intimidating even in the low light.
I almost teared up.
Holy hell. That thing was huge...long and thick, the kind of size that made me seriously worry about how it was going to fit anywhere inside me.
That thing would split me in half goddamnit!
I was doomed for sure.
It was nice knowing you all...
Totally, utterly doomed if he tried to put that in me. A nervous laugh escaped me, shaky and high-pitched.
"This is crazy. Damien, that... there’s no way that’s going to work. You’re built like a fucking weapon!"
He paused for a moment, looking a bit surprised.
Then that knowing smirk deepened, as if he could read every frantic thought racing through my mind. He leaned down and captured my lips in a slow, reassuring kiss that eased some of the tension in my shoulders.
"It’s okay, Oliver. I’ll be gentle," he said against my mouth, his breath warm and steady.
"Now spread your legs for me."
His words wrapped around me like comfort, soothing my panic even as a thrill shot through me at how much he wanted this, how patient he was being despite the clear hunger in his eyes.
I trusted him.
Deep down, beneath my nerves and the comedy of my internal freak-out, I truly did.
My hands gripped the sheets tightly as I obeyed, parting my thighs for him, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way that made my face heat up.
Damien’s free hand stroked my thigh soothingly, his fingers circling my entrance with the cool lube, teasing the sensitive skin without pushing in just yet.
I thought I was ready. But feeling his fingers there, knowing what was about to happen... I was about to discover just how much I could actually take from him.