My Bullies - Chapter Thirty-One

Ethan knelt on the carpet, Diego’s thick cock filling his mouth. He took his time—slow, sensual, deliberate. His tongue swirled around the head in lazy circles, lips sealed tight as he slid down inch by inch, throat relaxing to take him deep. He hollowed his cheeks on the upstroke, letting the wet drag of his mouth pull a low, involuntary groan from Diego.

Diego’s toes curled against the floor. His fingers tightened in Ethan’s hair—not guiding, just holding, as if he needed something to anchor himself.

Ethan hummed softly around the length, the vibration traveling straight up Diego’s shaft. He pulled back until only the head rested on his tongue, then sank down again—slow, deep, worshipping. Saliva glistened on his chin; his own cock leaked steadily onto the carpet beneath him.

After several long, torturous minutes, Diego’s breathing turned ragged. He pulled out with a wet pop, cock shining and throbbing.

Without a word, he grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and pushed him forward over the edge of the bed. Ethan’s chest hit the mattress, ass up, legs spread instinctively.

Diego stripped fast—hoodie, jeans, boxers—until he was naked, lean muscle and dark skin gleaming in the low morning light. His cock stood rigid, slick from Ethan’s mouth.

He stepped behind Ethan, one hand gripping a hip, the other guiding himself to Ethan’s still-loose, slick hole. He pressed in slowly—inch by thick inch—until he bottomed out with a low groan.

Ethan moaned loudly, face buried in the sheets. Only his second time being fucked, and already he was addicted—the stretch, the heat, the fullness. Diego felt bigger than Caleb, different angle, different rhythm.

Diego started slow—long, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Each thrust dragged against Ethan’s prostate, making him cry out, hips pushing back greedily.

Diego’s control slipped. His pace built—faster, harder—hips snapping forward, balls slapping against Ethan’s smooth skin. Ethan’s moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, loud and unrestrained.

Diego’s hand slid up Ethan’s back, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head back just enough to see his flushed face.

“Fuck,” Diego growled—the first real word he’d spoken since arriving.

He thrust deep one last time and came—hot, thick pulses flooding Ethan’s hole. His body shuddered, low groan rumbling from his chest as he filled him.

Diego collapsed forward, chest pressed to Ethan’s back, cock still buried deep. He stayed there, breathing hard, one hand gently stroking Ethan’s hair.

Neither moved for a long moment.

Ethan lay trembling beneath him, hole clenching around the softening cock, own release still denied, body buzzing with unspent need.

Diego finally pulled out slowly, a thick trickle of cum leaking from Ethan’s hole and sliding down his thigh.

He kissed the back of Ethan’s neck—soft, almost tender—then stood.

No words.

Just the quiet sound of Diego dressing, and Ethan’s shaky breaths against the sheets.