Page 105 of The Silencer

I click the camera button as I press two fingers inside of him, stretching him open. He’s still loose from earlier, and yet I want to tease him like he teased me last night. I want him whining and begging for it. For me.

“Good morning, my little light,” I say softly, pressing my nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling, the camera beside me, waiting to be used. I’m going to document this. The way he pants and moans for me, the curves of his body.

“Are you taking pictures of me?” he asks, his voice rough from sleep.

“Hm, I am.”

“Good. Good,” he says and then gasps when I find his prostate and press against it. He stretches his legs open further and starts to arch his hips back, wanting more, wanting it deeper.

“Not yet,” I whisper, biting down on his skin and sucking.

He groans, his voice low and broken. “Please. Please.”

“So greedy,” I reply as I press three fingers into him, twisting my wrist and spreading them apart, making him arch back into me.

“More. More,” he pleads as he gasps my name. The way he looks, the pull of his lips, the arch of his hips. I grab the camera again and snap some more photos, excited for the first time in two decades to develop these, to see him appear before by eyes like magic.

I taunt him for several more minutes until he’s reaching for his cock and stroking it furiously.

“Not yet,” I tell him, pulling my fingers from him and wetting my cock with lube. I flip him onto his stomach and settle between his legs, pushing them further apart until they’re stretched impossibly wide, and then I pull his cheeks apart. I stare at his quivering hole, open, puffy, and red.

I snap a few pictures, one of my hand on his ass, the other of his spread hole, wet and glistening.

I squirt more lube down his crack and work it into him with the tip of my cock, making him groan into the pillow, his fingers grasping the sheets near his head. I watch the flush creep up his back and down his neck in the morning light, and I think that he’s absolutely perfect before sliding into him slowly.

His head comes off the pillow and he arches his back as I bottom out, filling him completely.

“Oh fuck,” he moans as I grind into him, opening him up with my dick. My hands are on either side of his head as I drag out of him and then push back inside. A slow, good-morning fuck. I should take a picture of this, a snapshot to remember it by, but right now, I just want to experience it.

Tatum is writhing beneath me, humping into the mattress, trying to find relief that way. But he won’t get it. Not yet.

I keep my pace slow, agonizing, until he’s nearly sobbing, his eyes leaking profusely.

“It’s too much,” he says. “I need more. Please!”

I lean down and bracket him completely, my body pressed against his. He fits perfectly against me.

“Who do you belong to?” I ask, and he murmurs my name. Anthony. You. A prayer, a plea.

“Good boy,” I say and then lift off him, shift his hips up, and fuck into him.

It’s a slap of skin on skin, our balls hitting each other’s as I impale him over and over. Tatum is clutching a pillow for dear life, his mouth open in a silent scream. My fingers dig into his hips, leaving marks, my fingerprints. He will look at himself later and see them, remember this, remember me.

I lift him a little higher, changing the angle, his knees nearly off the bed.

“Yes! Fuck yes!” he cries out as I use his hole, stuffing it full only to pull back out and slam in again. Tatum reaches down and cups his cock, his arm working quickly, his body shaking beneath me.

I feel the moment he comes, his body tensing, his hole clenching my cock almost painfully. I grunt as my movements stutter and then my entire body tightens and I feel my cock pump him full. I continue to rock into him, the squelch of my release filling him, making my softening cock hard once more.

I want to keep him full of my cum all day. I want him walking around with it sliding out of him, smelling of me.

I set him down, pulling out of him gently.

He falls to the sheets and groans, his body trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

I stare down at him, his flushed skin, his damp hair.

My hands reach for his red ass cheeks and I spread them apart, looking at my release trickling out of him.