He swallowed harder, held him in for longer stretches of time, past the point of dots dancing on the backs of his eyes as his lungs fought for air. When he felt the throb of the vein against his tongue, though, Ian slid off a few inches, enough for the first shot to hit the back of his tongue. Lucas’s cry echoed in his ears, adding to the blissful satisfaction at drinking him down. But it was quickly stifled, his mouth full again as he dove back down Ian’s length, up and down and in and out and so overwhelming Ian could barely finish what he’d started. He had to clamp his arm around Lucas’s hips to control the trembling, and squeeze his eyes shut to stop the room from spinning.
None of his efforts mattered in the end. Because all it took for Ian to break was for Lucas to brush his knuckle
