My Bullies - Chapter Twenty-Nine

Caleb’s bedroom door clicked shut.

The room was quiet, lit only by the low glow of a bedside lamp. Caleb turned to Ethan, still completely naked, and for the first time all day his touch was gentle. He cupped Ethan’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his flushed cheeks, and kissed him softly.

“You were so good today,” he whispered against Ethan’s lips. “My perfect boy.”

He walked Ethan backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed, then eased him down onto the sheets. Caleb climbed over him, towel discarded, his body warm and solid as he settled between Ethan’s spread thighs.

For the next two hours, Caleb was softer than he had ever been… and somehow crueler because of it.

He kissed Ethan everywhere — slow, deep kisses on his mouth, his neck, his chest, his smooth stomach. Every time Ethan’s cock twitched or leaked, Caleb would murmur praise against his skin.

“Your throat is perfect… the way it opens for me… no one else will ever feel that.”

He edged him relentlessly. Slow strokes, feather-light touches, his mouth sucking gently on the head while two fingers curled deep inside Ethan’s still-loose hole. Every time Ethan got close, Caleb would stop, kiss him tenderly, and whisper:

“You don’t cum unless I say. You belong to me now. Your orgasms are mine.”

Ethan sobbed, hips chasing Caleb’s hand, tears slipping down his temples.

“Please… I’ve been so good… please let me cum…”

Caleb kissed the tears away.

“Not yet, baby.”

When Ethan was a shaking, whimpering mess, Caleb finally flipped him onto his stomach.

He lined his thick cock up with Ethan’s slick, open hole and pushed in slowly, one long, smooth thrust until he was buried to the hilt.

Ethan moaned into the pillow, the stretch perfect after all the fingering.

Caleb fucked him passionately — deep, rolling strokes, chest pressed to Ethan’s back, one hand laced with Ethan’s above his head. He kissed the nape of his neck, whispering the whole time:

“So tight for me… so good… taking my cock like you were made for it…”

When Caleb finally came, he buried himself deep and groaned Ethan’s name, filling him with hot, thick pulses.

He stayed inside for a long moment, breathing hard, then gently pulled out.

He flipped Ethan onto his back again.

“You’ve been such a good boy all week,” Caleb said, voice rough with emotion. “You earned this.”

He wrapped his hand around Ethan’s aching cock and stroked him — firm, fast, perfect.

It took less than thirty seconds.

Ethan came with a broken cry, hips jerking, ropes of cum painting his own smooth stomach and chest. He shook through it, tears streaming, finally allowed release after days of denial.

Caleb milked every drop, then pulled Ethan into his arms.

He kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his swollen lips.

They stayed like that — naked, tangled, Ethan’s head on Caleb’s chest — until Ethan’s breathing slowed and his eyes drifted shut.

Caleb held him close, one hand stroking his back, and whispered into the dark:

“Mine.”