The Right Hand Of The Father

chapter 13

He ached. His hips were sore and his arse ached and there was a knot low in his belly that seemed as if it would never unravel. A low, liquid core of needing. It had been four days of slow loving. Four nights since George had spread his body wide and opened him with his tongue. Four mornings since he’d slipped a single finger inside him, stroking him, rubbing. His master’s long fingers had found a spot inside him that made all his skin curl in on itself and made Alexander see stars.

The first time his master had prodded it Alexander had spilled, sobbing, his own hands buried in his hair as he writhed and squirmed and begged.

His master had purred then and removed his fingers. Replaced them with his mouth until Alexander stiffed again and he’d worked him with his mouth and his fingers until he’d spilled a second time.

The next day it had been two fingers. Three on the next.

This morning his master had pressed four of his fingers together tightly and used them to breach him. Once they’d slipped inside him his master had opened his hand slightly, pressing against his inner walls and his rim, stretching him open as he ground down on his master’s hand like a wanton. Had begged for more. Pleaded for his climax. Sobbed in pleasure as his master allowed him to take himself in hand and stroke as waves of ecstasy crested and broke over him.

By the time his master had removed his fingers Alexander had been hoarse and sweating, his chest and throat burning from trying to suck in air. His entire body had trembled violently and he’d needed to be held for a quarter of an hour until he felt steady enough to stand and walk to the bath tub in front of the fire.

His knees had been weak until almost lunch. And he was sore. When he sat in the hard chair in his office the pressure hurt. His hips ached with phantom pains and his stomach was twisted in hot knots.

His master had done as he’d promised. He’d been gentle. Had not forced Alexander to open. Had coaxed him into wanting to be loved. Had overwhelmed him in pleasure. And his body had responded willingly. Eagerly even.

His cock twitched as he thought about how he’d woken this morning, already hard and aching, desperate to be loved. How demanding he’d been. Hadn’t coaxed his master awake with soft kisses as he usually did. How he’d snuggled close, pressed their hips together and kissed his master’s lips, demanding attention.

“Daddy.” He’d murmured into his master’s ear as he rubbed against him. “Daddy wake up.”

When the other man had opened his eyes Alexander had wrapped his arms around his neck and rolled onto his back, pulling his master with him.

“Good morning Alexander.”

“I need you Daddy.” He’d panted. “Need you inside me Daddy. Right now. Please Daddy I need you so bad it hurts.”

His master hadn’t moved though. Just smiled down at him and kissed his nose. “Good morning Alexander.”

“Good morning Daddy,” he’d huffed as he pressed himself up against the larger man. “Please Daddy.”

His master just chuckled as he slunk down Alexander’s body. “Such a greedy boy,” his master had murmured as he kissed his way down Alexander’s hip bone. 
Had teased him open slowly. Had kissed his thighs and his hips and licked until Alexander was sobbing for release. Had rolled out of the bed and left him alone in the center while he retrieved the oil when Alexander knew— knew— that his master could reach it without leaving the bed.

His master had started with one finger and Alexander had thought he was dying because it wasn’t enough. What he’d feared just days before wasn’t enough now. Had pleaded with his master when he slipped a second finger in, begging for more. By the third finger his master had to hold his hips down with his free hand and made Alexander grab the filigree of the wrought iron headboard to hold himself still. When the fourth finger breached him his master had pressed a firm, close mouthed kiss onto the root of his shaft and Alexander had released then, his vision darkening, screaming Daddy as the world caught fire around him.