by Avery Aster
He awoke Sunday morning to searing breath smacking his face. Diego? No, thank heavens. Brutus. The dog panted in hopes to secure his attention.
“What do you want?” He wiped his eyes, realizing he’d been crying.
It was only a nightmare, he reminded himself. He was safe. Miguel was a good guy. He was asleep right next to him. The heat off his friend’s body gave him peace.
Brutus licked his arm. The alarm clock on the nightstand blinked 5:58 a.m.
“Go lie down,” he pleaded, pointing the four-legged, not-yet-a-friend canine to his corner. He snapped his fingers, but the dog didn’t budge. “Damn you, dog…”
Rolling over with a yawn, his friend’s pecs became exposed. He stretched his developed biceps over his head with sternness in his eyes. “Brutus goes out at 6:00 a.m.”
Christ, you are a sexy beast in the morning. “For Pete’s sake, you didn’t tell me I’d be taking him out this early.” Coffee. He needed it strong, black and caffeinated. But something told him Brutus wouldn’t be able to wait that long.
The dog sat at the door, staring at the knob intently.
“Go walk him.” Miguel kissed him on the cheek then tore off the sheets, kicking him, jokingly, from the bed.
Groggy and stumbling, Blake dressed into sweats and left with Brutus on the leash, but didn’t put the muzzle on him. It did feel cruel. The dog had been nothing but a big teddy bear with him.
Twenty minutes later, he returned and went to scrub his hands in the kitchen sink. “Mmmm.” He inhaled sharply. Cinnamon? Vanilla?
Something simmered on the stove.
“Buenos días,” Miguel called from the bed, in the buff, stroking his cock.
How did he miss the view when he came back in?
“I made atole for you on the stove.”
“That’s what smells so good.”
Frozen by the view of his erection, he remembered his friend’s penis outlined at the spa, playing peekaboo from his pants. Now it’s here in plain sight. But there was nothing plain about that dick. It was fucking gorgeous.
Putting his earlier nightmare behind him, he didn’t know what to do. Run to his bedside, or wait to be invited? Turning the stovetop’s heat off, he grabbed the saucepan and poured himself a cup. Stirring the brown froth with a spoon, he gave it a quick blow before sipping. Atole tasted similar to rich hot chocolate. “Delicioso.” He laughed at his Spanish. He knew very little. How could he sip a hot beverage with a Latin stud on the bed?
Silence filled the air.
Miguel sipped from his own mug.
Blake mirrored his actions.
Christ, they could be at their stand-off for hours.
“Atole will give you energy for the day ahead.” Miguel set his cup down on the floor beside the bed, making a loud clink. He then tugged at his cock.
“And…why would I need energy, Mig?”
He kept his cool and swigged the warm confection, allowing it to seep over his tongue. The thick drink stayed in his mouth for a few seconds, and then he swallowed. But on the inside, there was a firecracker going off. He didn’t think he’d give in to the Seven Desires, or want them to happen as strongly as he did right that very second. But it was all he could think about at the moment.
Miguel smirked in response, but said nothing. He played with Blake’s resistance.
Bastard. He set his cup on the counter and crossed his arms. He cocked his chin up, not taking his eyes off him. He’d wait this out. Nothing was going to happen. This was merely teasing him.
“Come, lie with me,” Miguel ordered.
“What?” Were the Seven Desires really going into motion?
“Get naked and bring your hot body the fuck over here.”
Blake had never been told he had a hot body before. He enjoyed being told what to do. The commands were quite different from his former docile, unassertive experience.
He went over and peeled his nylon sweats off as Miguel watched, then dropped to his knees on the mattress. Game on. He lowered his shoulders and crawled forward, palms out as a panther approaching a meal. Hungry, reaching for his friend’s cock with his right hand, Blake stroked his shaft with his left. He witnessed his friend’s eyes roll back in pleasure. Other than his own, he hadn’t held a cock in his hands in years. Miguel’s pink head deserved his attention. A little freaked out by how easy this was, by how natural it felt, Blake tried to stay calm and just go with it.
Miguel moaned louder in Spanish then ordered, “You’re going to be a good niño and suck my cock.”
Nodding in agreement, he asked, “And then?”
“Don’t use your hands.” Cupping his fingers around Blake’s jawline, Miguel brushed his thumb over his lips.
“I’ll keep my hands behind my back.” He clasped his palms by the floor.
“Once I’m nice and hard, I’m gonna face-fuck you, hard.” He glanced down at his dick. “When I come, you’ll swallow me—whole, understand?”
“Is there anything else, boss man?” He pretended he’d swallow, but would spit it out, like they did in adult films. Yes, that was what he’d do. Or take it on his chest, or maybe his face. Maybe.
Miguel rested himself on the mattress. “Get started.”
Supercharged with enthusiasm, he leaned forward and nipped at Miguel’s dick. He ran his tongue in long strokes along his shaft. Spice, sweet and exotic, enveloped his senses. By far the biggest he’d seen, the dick was thick, too. Licking under the shaft, he produced enough lube to do his duty.
“Taste good?”
“Ah-huh…” He couldn’t believe he was doing this.
“Let me watch you. Take me. Come on, boy.”
First, his lips glided down. The satiny penis head hit the roof of his mouth. He opened wider. A dive down further pressed his face all the way up against the crotch. The black pubes tickled his cheeks.
“Doing good, boy.”
The cock twitched and slid in more. Deeper. Careful not to scrape the skin, his two front teeth rested at the base of his dick.
He looked up at his Latin God with a grin.
Miguel blew him a kiss and seduced Blake to continue. As their playfulness increased, he wondered for a split second what else he’d do for his best friend.
His tongue laced the nuts as he took him in further. Still nervous to pump the dick with his mouth, he continued to suck, sweetly. His nostrils burned. He thirsted for more.
“Fuck!” Miguel shouted. “Take my entire cock, chico guapo.” He pressed his body against Blake’s face. “Caliente.”
He jerked back.
His top became more fired up.
“I—umm.” He wasn’t confident he could take any more.
The very way Miguel sat up from the bed and then stood, demanding to be worshiped, it wasn’t like anything he’d ever encountered. Ever. He fucking loved it. But he didn’t want to disappoint his friend. Inside, he felt unsure about his capabilities. Miguel was the polar opposite. He wondered what it felt like to know you were desired, wanted. Blake hadn’t a clue but it was obvious Miguel owned it, at least in the bedroom.
Eyes, midnight as the dark skies, flashed a quick fury. Miguel scooped him up and slammed his backside against the wall next to the mattress.
Christ, you’re strong. The coolness from the plaster wall braced Blake’s head as he found his footing in the corner. He tried to act nonchalant. As if it was status quo for a gorgeous hunk to pick him up, ragdoll-style, and throw him. At over six feet tall, this wasn’t normal.
Miguel lowered him to the floor to kneel at his feet. He dug his knuckles through his hairline and pressed his body, hard.
With a cry, he whimpered and noticed it turned Miguel on. Acting submissive—was he acting? Or was it real? He felt vulnerable. He wanted to be overpowered. He didn’t want to be a victim, not any longer, but this was different. Something about this gave him a freedom and a power he’d never known.
“Is my boy okay?” Leaning down, Miguel licked his lower lip.
Miguel grabbed his jaw, staring into his eyes as if he was drunk on adrenaline and asked, “You sure?”
“Yes. Dominate me.”
“Hmm.” Miguel seemed to register the hunger he felt for domination. “Get ready.” He slapped Blake across the cheek.
Oh, my God! “Mig!” He didn’t expect to be hit, not like that. It stung, but the pain felt good. In one small way, it filled his need.
“Open your mouth, pretty boy.”
Blake was going to orgasm right there. This was the hottest thing. Shocked to arousal, he’d been shut up. Blake released his mouth. “Ahhh.”
Miguel closed the small remaining distance between them. “So obedient. I like this side of you.” He shoved three fingers into his mouth. Forcefully, he shook Blake’s face from left to right. “I want your sweet lips blistered up when we’re through.” Withdrawing his fingers, playfully he slapped the other side of his face a little harder than before.
Astonishment heated Blake’s body as if he’d stepped inside a tanning bed. It scared him. He didn’t know why, but he wanted more. This pushed him to his limits. As far as he could go, his friend will take him to a place he never thought possible.
One more strike came down his face. That time it was open-palmed and stung his right cheekbone. It didn’t hurt, not badly, but rather it felt…good. Yes, his cock ached for release as he stroked himself.
“Down, boy.”
Miguel pushed him to the floor and shoved himself in Blake’s throat. Immense pressure filled his mouth.
“Hold it.” He moaned in Spanish and pumped. “That’s it.”
He swallowed up the pre-cum as Miguel held the base of his cock and retracted.
“You gonna puke, pretty boy?” Miguel gripped onto his neck as if he’d snap it in two.
He went for it. He could do it. This was how it was supposed be, right? He’d never wanted anything more in his entire life so he replied, “No.” Feeling a little bit more confident, he urged, “Face-fuck me harder.”
Blake was in sex Heaven. His encouragement seemed to make Miguel wild, insane with determination. It felt amazing to forget the Hell he’d been subjected to in recent months. If just for an hour, he’d go with whatever Miguel wanted. Then they’d have to talk, seriously.
Miguel fucked his mouth with such force. He did this repeatedly, stretching his lips wide, filling his mouth to the brim.
On the last thrust, he withdrew and said, “You love having your mouth worked over, huh, bebé?” He shouted things in Spanish, tightening the hold around his neck.
Swallowing, he encouraged, “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
“¿Sí?” He stood at attention.
Dominate me. “Show me what you got.” Blake felt empowered. He taunted his alpha to control him. His friend’s reputation was true. He was good. Damn good.
Miguel pulled his hair, gliding his body from the wall over to the mattress. “Lie flat on your back.” He hoisted a pillow under his head and shoulders. Standing, he squatted over Blake’s face. Again, he buried himself down his throat with one deep plunge.
His gag reflexes subsided; Blake was learning well. He studied his face.
“Take my cock.” Miguel grunted with each thrust and picked up speed, pumping faster.
Tears found their way down his cheeks. Are we going too far? He loved every minute. His nose caught a pheromone whiff as they oozed sweat. The man was so attractive to him. He trusted him with his body. Could he start to trust him with his heart?
Bottomless in him, his top was smooth yet rough, sweet but brutal.
Mine. He held on to Miguel’s butt cheeks as he plunged again and again. Fucking his face.
“No limits this week.” Miguel gripped onto his hairline with his knuckles. Looking deep into his eyes, he said, “Understand?” He pulled his cock out, demanding a response.
“Yes, Mig.” His eyes watered as he let his guard down. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this.
He leaned down and then licked Blake’s tears. “No crying.” Miguel kissed his lips. “You’ll do whatever I say. I want no secrets between us.” It was as if he knew something bothered him.
“Mmm.” Feeling the most vulnerable he’d ever been in his entire life, he nodded. He’d try. He would.
“Now open, boy. I’m going to come down your throat.”
Dropping his jaw, Blake responded to the command.
Over his tongue, the cock slid in. “Imagine, in a few days, I’ll be in your virgin ass. You ready for it?”
Quickly, he nodded, starting to like the sound of that. Their exchange was intense and special. He kept reminding himself that he was just a friend, that this was one week and wouldn’t go any further than his Seven Desires. And even some of those acts he was still on the fence about.
Blake shuddered, closing in on his climax. Miguel distended and grasped his hair tighter through his knuckles.
He garbled a scream.
Eyes squinting to focus, he was concerned he’d get scalped bald if Miguel didn’t hurry up and come. The grip on his hair kept getting tighter. Man, did he need a haircut.
On the final cry, Miguel pressed his shins up against Blake’s torso. The long cock buried bottomless down his throat.
“I’m gonna come.” His friend quivered, hovering over his friend. “Ready?”
The power-heavy frame pinned him down. He blinked his eyes with encouragement. His body pressed further onto the mattress.
Upon the first squirt, he realized he’d swallow the orgasm. He hadn’t intended to as he figured at the last second he’d pull out and take it on the face. But he didn’t expect what came next as the hot liquid shot down his throat.
Miguel squeezed his nose shut. “Take it. Don’t breathe. Just swallow.”
Nostrils pinched, unable to inhale, he swallowed.
At high-speed he jammed, getting into his orgasm. The cock didn’t permit air into his taut mouth to breathe. In a longer shot, more cum spurted.
He swallowed again.
Miguel shouted several things in Spanish which he didn’t understand, but he knew what they implied. Climbing off Blake, he wiped his forehead. Strands of his wavy hair were wedged between his dark-skinned fingers.
As he lay in awe over what had transpired, he wiped his lips dry with his hands, rubbing them, sort of in shock. Okay, a lot in shock. He’d gone there. He’d given him a blow job, and not just any blow job—Miguel came in his mouth, a notable first, for sure. Oddly, he didn’t feel as freaked out as he thought he would. They weren’t in college exploring their man-love. This was strictly an act of sex, possibly with the hottest man on the planet, who just happened to be his best friend. A good guy, a little crazy on the domination thing, but sincere.
Switching his alpha behavior to omega compassion, Miguel kissed his face and chest, slowly and romantically.
“I didn’t think you’d be able to take my roughness.” He pulled them closer together, skin to skin, as one. “Was I too much?”
“You were…perfect.” He didn’t know what the fuck else to say. He thought he would’ve told him to stop before he came...so much for that. Perfect was it. Oral sex with Señor Santana could not have been any hotter if Vive and Thor had been there to choreograph every move.
“Is this how you want the week to play out? This intense?”
He didn’t want to want this. But what just happened, that right there, was probably—no it was for certain—the best time of his life. “I’d love nothing more,” he panted, realizing he hadn’t come yet. On the norm, he masturbated once a day, sometimes twice. He needed to release, so he tugged. “Now it’s my turn.”
“No, Blake.”
“Mig, yes.”
“Your load belongs to me. I’ll say when and how you’ll come. And it’s not …time…yet.” His voice was thick and in control as he sneer
ed. Then he burst into laughter. “We gotta go pick up M2, and we’re going to be late. No orgasm for you today, amigo. It’s babysitting time.”
“Aren’t we lucky?”
His jaw softened as his face fell. He also wasn’t going to have any time to go to the police station. Not unless he wanted to clue Miguel in, and he didn’t. His friend was in such a great mood with his upcoming Barcelona exhibit to work on and his parents to come out to. The last thing he needed was to help Blake clean up his messy past. A past even he and his lawyers were unsure how to fix.
Upper East Side
“How do you think Miguel and Blake are getting along?” Lex rolled over, facing Massimo who was getting up to feed M2.
The previous night, she didn’t sleep very well. How could she? She’d spent the entire day in bed, dozing off. Plus, her life was upside-down.
“I bet they’re screwing each other’s brains out.”
“You men. Such pigs.”
“Sì. Imagine deux pigs together.” Massimo made an oinking noise as he put his robe on.
Her fiancé was cute with his deep baritone voice and Italian accent making animal sounds. As serious about appearances as he was, deep down inside, he was a kid at heart. That’s what she loved about him most, his playfulness.
“I can be piggy with you,” Lex joked. The pregnancy news, DNA letter, and the TV show taping had involuntarily caused them to put sex on hold.
“Tonight, you and me.”
“Seriously?”
“Cancel Poppy. Let’s spend the day in bed together, bella.” He turned to face her and opened his robe.
The man could get a hard-on in a millisecond. She had never seen anything as splendid as Massimo before.
“Masi.” Lex threw a decorative pillow at him.
“Bella, its Sunday, per favore.” This was his day to be treated as a God.
“Okay, tonight it is.” Lex laughed. She didn’t think they’d ever be one of those couples who needed to schedule sex, but it appeared so. “I’m sorry we’re taping, but this morning was the only slot the producers could fit us in with our schedule.”
The Poppy White Show was owned by Gotham Media Group, who’d acquired Vive’s Debauchery magazine. Poppy aired weekly at 4p.m. with holiday and Sunday specials on the Lifestyle Channel. The Tittoni royal wedding was expected to be the network’s highest-rated show for the year.
