I hadn’t expected Dean to be naked when I walked through the front door, but there he was. Standing at the bottom of the stairs with his back to me, broad-shouldered, firm cheeked and tight thighed. One of his arms was bent, his hand hidden in front of him. I wondered if he was hiding something from me, or if he was…no. If he was doing that, his arm wouldn’t be so still.
He didn’t turn around. All he did was turn his head so he could see me from the corner of his eye. Full lips, aquiline nose, hair curling over his forehead. If someone walked in right now and announced that Michelangelo himself had carved this sexy fucker from rock that had come from the moon, I’d believe them.
The curve of his cheek changed, and I knew the side of his mouth I couldn’t see had lifted into the crooked smile that made my pulse roll like thunder. Hand still concealed, he walked slowly up the stairs. From his neck to his ankles, his body rippled and flexed with each step he took.
Once he was out of sight, I tried to decide if I was desperate enough for a fuck to fall for it again. Dean was a terrible tease. It wouldn’t surprise me if I raced to the bedroom, bollock naked, just to find him fully clothed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made me insanely horny and left me hanging.
But that glint in his eye when he’d turned his face, and that cocky, pants dropping smile…maybe this time he wanted to fuck rather than clown around.
By the time I reached the bedroom door, I was naked. I stopped to compose myself, then with a nervous breath, I opened the door.
Dean was by the bed, standing on an old bath sheet. His cock was long and heavy. It hung almost to his knees, and it wasn’t completely erect yet. To have that thing filling me up, finding the deepest part of me, was one of the most powerful things I’d ever felt. And the guy had abs for days! His pecs were so hard, so defined, I’d made myself come by rubbing myself against them more than once.
In his hand, was an open bottle. Bright lettering stood out against the deep red liquid inside, and I could just make out the shape of an ice cream cone. I motioned to the bottle with a shrug, curiosity narrowing my eyes.
“Dare I ask?”
It made no sense. Dean often ate before sex, telling me he had to for stamina. Usually, it was a bunch of veggie sticks or a bit of the health freak frittata that was always crowding the top shelf of the fridge. But ice cream syrup? That was more my chubby assed style.
Eyes still on me, he raised the bottle, tipping it toward his chest. His fingers flexed, and a long red rivulet trickled over his nipple. Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, he pursed his lips and said, “Oops. Somebody’s gonna have to clean that up. I volunteer you.”
Well, fuck me! The red stuff was running down his ribs and belly now. His arm was shaking with the effort of squeezing the bottle. I just stared, motionless, watching him cover himself in sticky, sweet syrup. I was waiting for something. Needed to see it happen before I could even consider moving.
And then, after an agonising wait, it happened. The syrup made its way down the very centre of his belly, past his navel, in a perfectly straight line. It crawled down his cock, so slowly, beading at the tip, stretching before breaking free and splashing onto the towel between his feet.
It was the sucking sound of the bottle drawing in air that made me lift my gaze. Dean looked intense. Impatient. His eyes flicked from my crotch to my face a few times before they locked with mine.
To my utter astonishment, he opened his mouth and covered his tongue in syrup. That was probably the first time he’d consumed sugar in the two years I’d known him. I was in front of him before the bottle hit the floor, stopping a foot away and leaning in to give him what he wanted.
Oh, so sweet! So warm, wet and inviting. The only thing I loved more than fucking his mouth was having it fuck me. Dean was a demon when it came to rimming, and he was showcasing those skills right now. Fucking my mouth with his sticky wet tongue. Sucking my tongue like it was a cock. Those moans of his were enough to drive me mad. Deep, desperate, and chaotic.
Breaking the kiss with a gasp, I grabbed his wrists to keep his hands out of my way. My lips were on his prickly jaw, his long throat, his hard chest. Each kiss covered my face in more and more syrup. I breathed it in, tasting its sweetness, cut through by the slightly salty tang of Dean’s skin. He must have been working out just before I came home.
Oh, this fucking cock! It was batting me in the face as I bit Dean’s thighs, and sucked purple blotches onto his flawless skin.
“Jesus! Get it in your mouth, Daniel. For the love of God, just put it in your fucking mouth and suck it.”
I was a good boy, so I did as I was told.
As soon as the thick head passed between my teeth, Dean grabbed handfuls of my hair. I gagged as he thrust, doing my best to lick the underside of his cock, to tickle the head with the tip of my tongue whenever he pulled far enough out. My cheeks ached, my eyes watered, and the slurping sounds of a deep, wet blowjob made me want to beg for my own release.
Everything about this was perfect. The hard length massaging the back of my throat, the encouraging growls from the man who pulled my hair and slapped me while telling me how much he loved fucking my face.
We’d done it a thousand times before, though, and it always ended the same way. Dean would ask if he could come in my mouth, and I would say no. I knew the moment was approaching. He was stopping and starting, thrusting shallower now so the head of his cock kept whipping past my tongue.
And, all at once, I understood why he’d brought the syrup.
“I’m gonna come,” he panted. “Oh my fucking God, Dan, I’m gonna come. Can I do it in your mouth?”
I couldn’t answer with words, so I grabbed his hips and held him inside. His smile was a sunrise of triumph and gratitude.
A few more frenzied thrusts and he was coming, spilling his sugar spiked orgasm down my throat. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him how good he tasted. I was on my back, and Dean was pouring syrup on my cock.
“Oops. Someone’s gonna have to clean that up,” I laughed.
Oh, what a filthy grin! Dean took my cock straight to the back of his throat, and my mind ran riot. His shelf in the fridge might be loaded with health food, but mine wasn’t. I had leftover jelly, whipped cream…and ice cream! If I had my way, syrup wouldn’t be the only thing I sucked off my man’s cock tonight.