But then he scoots himself back so his head is propped up on the pillows. He pulls me toward him, forcing me to knee-walk my way up the bed and up his body until I’m straddling his chest. And then he says three words that almost undo me.

“Fuck my mouth.”

“Um, er, what?” I sputter.

“You heard me,” he says, voice low and sexy and doing things to my insides. “Do you want to?”

I laugh nervously. “What kind of question is that?” I mean, really. Has any gay man in the history of ever actually said no when another man asks if he wants to fuck his mouth? I don’t think so.

Travis’s lip quirks up. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Well, shit.

The way he’s looking at me now, it almost feels like a challenge. And there’s no way in hell I’m backing down. Wrapping my hand around my base, I inch my hips forward so I can swipe my cockhead across his lips. His tongue darts out to taste, and a full-body shiver runs through me. I can’t wait any longer.

“Open,” I command, my voice husky. And shit, who even was that? Surely, it couldn’t be me talking like this.

When he drops his mouth open, eyes gazing at me with so much lust it scorches my skin, I lose all sense of decorum. I thrust forward, sliding my cock along his tongue and not stopping until I hit resistance at the back of his throat.

Even though he gags a bit, he makes no move to get away from the invasion. Not that he has anywhere to go, since I’ve pretty much got his head pinned to the pillows. But I remind myself that he wanted it this way, and I keep going, thrusting in and out of the wet heat of his mouth, building up a rhythm.

The heat of his stare urges me on. While my eyes are mostly focused on the sight of my cock disappearing between his lips, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t taken his molten eyes off my face.

Good. I don’t want him to forget whose cock is owning his mouth like this. I know I can’t keep him, that this arrangement is only temporary, but that doesn’t stop me from doing my best to lay a claim right now.

I’m thinking with the wrong head, the head that’s nudging itself farther down Travis’s throat. But so what? There’s nothing wrong with wanting to paint my name in cum across his tongue. Or maybe across his face. Across his chest?

I can’t decide. But if I don’t slow down, the choice will be made for me, and I’ll spill so far down his throat he won’t even taste me. My toes are curling by his sides and fuck.