Page 58 of Rent: Paid in Full
I will neither confirm nor deny that begging takes place, but suffice it to say that when Miller holds his open hand to my mouth and says, “Spit,” I do.
I don’t even think about it.
There’s pressure everywhere. Every cell in my body is screaming. Miller is hitting my gland like his life depends on it,and the second he wraps his hand around my dick, he makes me believe in magic.
He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t throw me over the edge and watch as I fall. He holds me steady, cocooning me in ecstasy. Making me suffer through every ounce of bliss that exists in the world until, at last, I’ve absorbed it all. I vibrate with it as he circles my crown with the pad of his thumb, wailing loudly from the excessive sensation. Then he pumps his hand up and down my dick at precisely the same time he drills his thick shaft into me.
It breaks me.
Everything I’ve ever hidden or held in, every doubt, all the shame, all the lust, all of it,allof it blasts out of me.
It’s endless.
Euphoric.
Easily the best thing I’ve ever felt.
I’m hugging the desk when I come back to myself, cheek smooshed against the smooth surface, a trickle of drool pooling near my mouth, as Miller steadfastly fucks me. My hole quivers, sensitive and sore, but I keep still, and I stay open until Miller’s thrusts lose their stride and he plants his load deep inside me.
Even after he’s done, I don’t move. I don’t think I can. Can’t remember how to. I think it involves legs, and I can’t feel mine. All I can feel is Miller’s hot, ragged breath on my back and the heat of his semen spilling out of me.
Eventually, he pulls me up, and though it takes a second, I find my balance. My vision is hazy, and for some reason, I can’t seem to close my mouth. I don’t think it matters. Miller looks exactly the same. Maybe worse.
He doesn’t speak, but he takes me by the hand and leads me to the shower. I can’t find it in myself to complain, so I follow him meekly, standing by and watching as he turns on the water. I get in with him and let him wash me, lifting my limbsrobotically as he washes my arms and then my legs. His hands graze my skin, and to my amazement, they set it alight again. By the time he crouches to wash my feet, my dick has the audacity to be swelling again.
He smiles when he sees it, bringing his mouth tantalizingly close to my head. I jerk away from habit as much as anything else, though I make a horrible, hungry sound as I do it.
Miller sticks his head out of the shower and says, “Hey, Siri, how much time is left on the timer?”
“There’s a timer with four minutes and thirty-three seconds left,” chirps Siri.
I groan and lean back against the icy wall of tile behind me.
Miller looks up at me innocently, a bow wrapped around a picture-perfect smile. “You’re still on my time, Ryan. I paid for you. I have four minutes left.”
His eyes wrinkle at the corners and tiny rivers of water run down one side of his face, down his neck, down his chest, all the way to his beautiful cock. He parts his lips, dropping his jaw and showing me the soft pinkness inside.
I groan again, and this time I grab onto the faucet for balance with one hand and guide my dick into his mouth with the other. He takes it. He takes me too. He transports me quickly to a place between pleasure and pain. A place between sensitive and oversensitive. A place where my abs tense with each breath and my teeth clench, and I moan just as loudly as I did when he fucked me. He doesn’t stop until the jarring sound of the timer all but gives me a lobotomy.
He pulls away instantly, hands open at the sides of his head. The sudden loss of sensation leaves me winded. My face burns with frustration as my sore hole clenches around nothing.
“Don’t stop!” It’s a growl. A whine. A growl and a whine rolled into one. And it’s mine.
My fingers knot in his hair, and I shove my dick as deep into his throat as I can. Deeper than I thought I possibly could. Deeper than I’ve ever been. He takes it, choking and smiling, moaning with me as he starts stroking himself. I thrust into him again and again, pulling out only when his neck reddens from lack of oxygen.
I drag him onto my dick and then off again by his hair. He looks up at me and begs for more. He begs with his eyes. And his words. His chest is heaving, his hair wet and darker than usual, his lips stained bright red.
He looks happy. Happier than ever.
Much as I hate it, I can’t deny he looks beautiful. He smiles sweetly and latches back onto my dick. Then he sucks my soul clean out of my body.
His eyes don’t leave mine the entire time. Not once. Not even to blink.
I guess mine don’t leave his either.
Afterward, we dry ourselves, or we dry each other, I’m not sure which. One way or another, we end up dry, and our towels end up crumpled and wet on the floor. We stand side by side at the sink. He puts toothpaste on my toothbrush and hands it to me, and then he does the same to his brush. His hands are shaking almost as much as mine are. We lean against each other for balance, or something. His free arm starts out slung loosely over my shoulder, but when he leans forward to spit, it slips down, hand trailing down my back, cupping my ass and squeezing it rhythmically as he watches my reflection lazily in the mirror.
I watch his too.