Page 54 of Hollow
“I have the feeling you worry too much,” Abe says.
I let out a small laugh. “You’d be wrong. I used to worry. I came to New York so I wouldn’t have to.”
I think you’re the first person I’ve worried about in a very long time.
He reaches into the tub and wraps his fist around the meaty base of his cock.
“As you can see,” he says in a throaty voice, sliding his hand up and down his shaft with deliberation, “you don’t have to worry about me.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. “That’s really sweet of you,” I croon. “But I’m afraid you have the wrong impression. You’re not here so that I can get you off. You’re here to get me off. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you release too.”
I watch him carefully. I’m particular in my wants and needs, and not a lot of men love being submissive. This man certainly isn’t the submissive type. He’s dominant too, I can tell. But I’m older than he is, maybe by ten years. I have experience, and for all the rawness in his eyes, the jutting swell of his blood-darkened cock, I have a suspicion he doesn’t do this often. There’s a greenness underneath, one that usually comes with a heavy helping of guilt, a sense that desire for another man is wrong.
“You’re free to leave if that displeases you,” I say, standing up. I reach down and rub the heel of my palm against my cock, hard and straining against my trousers. “I won’t take offense. I’ll be glad you at least got to have a bath, got a moment of respite from whatever is haunting you. Or hunting you.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his thick neck. “What if it’s both?” His voice is a whisper now, and that anguish and fear has come crawling back. “What if I’m being haunted and hunted?”
His words drive a stake of need through me. Not just the sexual need that’s throbbing throughout my entire body but a need to protect him. To save him. To fix him. This broken, haunted stranger in my bathtub.
I carefully unbutton the fly of my trousers and pull out my cock, the weight of it heavy in my palm, the skin hot and buzzing with want, aching to be touched and sucked.
Abe’s eyes stare at my length with fervor, a wildness coming over his face that drains all the fear away. This will help, I think. This is a start.
“I will take your mind off things,” I tell him, making sure he hears it as a command.
Abe’s gaze burns into mine as he adjusts himself in the bathtub, the water splashing over and onto the floor as he rotates so he’s on his knees. With one hand, he grabs his cock, and the other reaches for mine.
I quickly snatch his wrist, gripping him tight. “Don’t touch yourself. That’s a rule.”
“You can fuck your rules,” he sneers.
My cock twitches at his profanity.
I bend his wrist the wrong way, and he lets out a rough gasp.
“I’ll fuck your mouth,” I counter. “You want it, you’re going to have to do things my way.” He tries to whip his hand away, but I have a strong grip, and he’s still under the influence. I have no doubt that when the drug completely leaves him, he could put up a fair fight, but not right now.
“Now, open those soft lips of yours,” I tell him, letting go of his wrist and grabbing his chin while I ready my cock with the other. “And open wide. I know I’m a lot to swallow.”
He keeps his eyes locked on mine, but he’s faltering. He finally gives in and lets his gaze drop to my cock, taking in the sight of me. He reaches out—both hands this time—and his lips part, the inner rim dark pink and wet.
I let out a growl of impatience and let go of his chin, grabbing a fistful of hair instead and forcing his head forward. My shaft slides in past his lips, hitting the back of his throat. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch nor gag; he just takes me in, his teeth razing the underside of my cock until pleasure spikes through me, a heady, incapacitating kind of pleasure that I haven’t felt in a long time.
God, that’s it. That’s it.
Abe starts off slow, and even though I’m the one in control, from the way my fingers have made a knot in his thick, silky hair, I let him take the lead. Because when he does, he brings me in deep. He sucks me off with fervor, like I’m dessert he’s been looking forward to all day, hell, all year. His eyes go from the task at hand to my eyes and back, and I know he’s enjoying this as much as I am. It almost feels cruel to watch him work me like this, shaft wet with his mouth, brow furrowed in concentration while he bucks his hips against the edge of the bathtub, trying to get purchase, trying to get release.
His will come. I’ll make sure of it.
“You look like an animal, you know that?” I murmur, giving his hair a sharp tug. “You suck me like one too. Some wild, feral creature I picked up off the street.”
Abe grunts at that, glaring up at me now. He gets mad when I insult him, and yet he’s still running his tongue around my tip, still fisting my base with both hands, taking his anger out on my dick.
“You’re doing good,” I encourage him, though I’m not smiling. “So good. Keep going, pretty boy.”
Another glare, another raze from his teeth that makes my toes curl against the wet bathroom floor. Eventually though, I have to close my eyes and surrender to the sensations, letting words of praise fall from my lips to his ears.
You’re doing so good.