His Ecstacy
Adrian's POV
The reporter asked another question, something about future projects, but I barely heard it. My focus was on Dominic's hands, broad, strong, veins visible beneath his skin as he gestured slightly. My imagination betrayed me, painting vivid images of those same hands gripping me, holding me down, claiming me as his.
The air grew thick with the quiet intimacy of the space, carrying the faint, musky scent of my own skin mingled with undertones of warmth and subtle saltiness. I could perceive Dominic's perfume from that party, ten years ago. That nostalgic memory.
My breath came slow and even, a steady rhythm that matches the heartbeat pulsing softly beneath my chest. The low, almost inaudible sound of Dominic's voice deepened as my hand reached down, my fingers unfurling like a delicate brush, warm and aware.
My palm cupped the base of my cock, the skin there was thick and supple, a little cool at first but quickly heated by my touch, it was yearning for Dominic so badly. My veins rippled beneath like delicate tribulance, pulsing with life as my fingers traced and explored, sliding smoothly over the fine, almost translucent skin.
My thumb moved with tender curiosity along the underside, where my skin is thinnest and most sensitive, eliciting faint shivers that echoed softly throughout my body.
The gliding sound of my hand against my skin was almost imperceptible, a subtle, wet slick whisper as natural moisture gathered and spread effortlessly, lubricating each stroke.
"Fuck!!!," I moaned out loud but I pulled the throw pillow from the couch and covered my mouth with it. The sensation varied with each movement: some moments my fingers brushed lightly, barely grazing the surface with a feather light, tickling caress; then, at another moment, my grip tightened gently, pressing with more purpose like a lover's soft embrace, creating a delicious contrast between, softness and firmness.
"Fuck!, why the hell are you not going down?" I moaned as I kept stroking, but I knew the answer, it wanted Dominic Moretti.
On the screen, Dominic leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense, his words deliberate:
"If you want to survive in this world, you must be willing to sacrifice comfort for greatness. Only the strong can shape destiny."
A shiver ran through me. My palm rose slowly along the shaft, fingertips gliding over the gentle curves, my skin warm and supple. Each gentle stroke sent sparks of electric delight racing through my body. The tender ribbon beneath the head, a single slow swipe here summoned a sharp, almost breathtaking jolt that echoed faintly like a soft, musical note in the quiet room.
"God... Dominic," I muttered, my voice barely audible.
As my hand continued it's relevant worship, the room filled with a subtle chorus of my sound but I moaned inside the pillow, the almost imperceptible gasp as pleasure stroke my breath, and the muffled flutter of heartbeat that thrummed in my ears. Occasionally, a soft sigh escapes my lips, a tender vocalization that blended with the hushed ambiance and reinforces the sacredness of the moment.
The scent around me thickened as arousal builds, a hardy, musky warmth infused with my unique essence, underscored by the faintest hint of earthness and a trace of floral softness, like whispered secrets of dusky forests. The smell filled my nostrils deeply and soothes and emerging hunger inside me.
I sank deeper into the couch, one hand gripping the armrest tightly as I threw the pillow.
The interview carried on, but for me, time slowed. All I could see was him, his eyes, his lips, his voice echoing inside me.
"Dominic..." I moaned out. Finally the climax burst free, crescendo of sensations flooding through my body. My breath caught sharp and quickened in a cascade of quick gasps and moans. Thick, warm jets of ejaculate pulse rhythmically from my sensitive tip, each spurt accompanied by subtle wet slapping sounds, as it landed on my thighs. The sticky warmth coated my skin in gleaming trials, cooling slowly against the lingering heat of my flushed flesh.
My fingertips released it's gentle worship as my hand slows, cradling my still sensitive cock tenderly. The aftershocks of pleasure rippled through me as a peaceful warmth spreads from my head to toe.
I grabbed pieces of tissues from the table and cleaned myself up. I remained still, immersed in the silence and warmth, feeling utterly connected to Dominic, like he has just made me cum but it was all an imagination.
For a long moment, I sat there, chest heaving, the room silent except for the faint murmur of the TV. The interview was ending, the reporter thanking him, but my eyes were locked on Dominic's last smile before the screen shifted to another story.
I leaned back against the couch, breathless, my heart still racing.
Shame lingered faintly at the edge of my mind, but it was drowned by the overwhelming truth that filled me.
I was completely, hope
lessly in love with him.