love until Micah stretched in his embrace, waking him into an even lovelier reality.
“You’re so warm,” Micah mumbled.
“How do you feel?”
“A little sore but great.”
“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t pull out. When I tried, it only set you off again.”
Micah hummed. “You have no idea, do you? Your cockhead up there is bliss. I was on cloud nine for the entire time. An endless supply of the most amazing orgasms whenever I pushed my ass out a bit.”
“You were completely drained.”
“Travis, you fucked me hard right into my womb. I think I orgasmed for, like, half an hour straight, so yeah. But it was incredible. Don’t apologize for that. I might need a break, but I definitely want to do it again.”
“You really are a monster, aren’t you?”
Chuckling softly, Micah rolled toward Travis and threw his leg over Travis’s hip. Their soft cocks touched.
“I like it when you call me that.”
“I figured.” Travis caught his ass cheeks and tugged, smashing their groins together, and Micah moaned luxuriously. “My horny little beast.”
“And I didn’t lose a drop of your cum. It’s all safe inside me.”
“You’re killing me, Micah.”
Micah only laughed and kissed Travis deeply and sensually.
Ten
Micah
It was late afternoon, and Micah expected the next wave at any moment now. He was looking forward to it while at the same time, he was sad. How many more times would Travis knot him? Two? Maybe three? Then it would be over. Some things about the heat he hated—he felt stretched thin and vulnerable, scared by the loss of control and sometimes even loss of conscious thought. But it was all worth it. Making love to Travis had been the most beautiful, most pleasurable experience of his life. He would savor the last few hours to the fullest.
Palming his soft cock, he closed his eyes, focusing on his abdomen. There it was, the budding warmth.
“Travis!” he called from the kitchen. He was hungry, his stomach growling, but food would have to wait. The buildup was slow now that the heat was almost over, so there was no rush, but Micah loved the foreplay. He would suck Travis’s cock for a while, and then he’d ride him. Mmm. Yes. “Travis! It’s coming again. Living room?” he called as footsteps thudded in the hall.
“Micah.” Travis’s voice sounded thick. Strange.
Micah spun around and froze. In the kitchen door stood Travis, hands clasped behind his head, and by his side…Peter. Peter, holding a gun under Travis’s jaw.
“Hello, baby boy.”
Micah’s lungs squeezed, his stomach turned, and a tremor ran through his hands and knees.
He can’t hurt Travis.
That was his first thought.
Peter threw something small and white at Micah’s feet. Zip ties.
“Sit.” Peter jabbed Travis hard into his throat with the weapon, and Travis sat slowly down on the kitchen chair.
“Tie his wrists.”
Micah looked at Travis, terrified. Travis only blinked once. Do it. Hands shaking so hard he dropped the plastic several times, Micah tied first one, then the other wrist to the stiles in the chair’s backrest.
“Ankles too. C’mon.”
He did as he was told.
I need to get him away from Travis. He can’t hurt Travis.
When Micah had tightened the last zip tie, he met Travis’s gaze. Kind eyes, calm. Travis blinked slowly. Stay calm, Micah. Peter was no action hero. He had zero experience with guns and knew shit about how to incapacitate someone like Travis. The chair was wooden, sleek, not sturdy. If nothing else, Travis could smash it, right? He had the strength of a superhero; he’d been carrying Micah around for the whole week as if he weighed nothing. Travis would get away. A man like him couldn’t be held back by a few flimsy plastic strips and a kitchen chair.
Get Peter and the gun away from him.
Wordlessly, Micah walked to the living room.
“Hey!” Peter shouted, following Micah immediately. Hard metal jabbed between Micah’s shoulder blades. “Stop, you little shit. You think I won’t shoot you?”
Micah paused in the middle of the living room, his heart hammering, nausea making him swallow compulsively. Travis is in the kitchen alone. I only need to keep Peter away from him.
“What do you want, Peter?” he asked, disappointed by how weak he sounded.
“Turn around.”
Slowly, Micah turned to face him.
Peter looked so proper. White dress shirt, a light blue tie, dark blue slacks, pristine clothes fitting perfectly on his gym-honed model body. He was clean-shaven, his blond hair styled to perfection, his handsome face so innocuous. But then he smiled, waving the gun in the air, and Micah cringed. As Peter’s