The vulgar command, the nastiness of it, speared through Lance's shame. It transformed it into pure, molten need. He dove back down, this time with more determination.
He took the head back in, sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks, before plunging down again.
He forced his throat to relax, to open, as the thick crown pressed insistently at his entrance.
It breached. The feeling was unbelievable, a stretching, full, impossible intrusion that made his eyes roll back.
He choked in earnest now, a continuous, wet, gurgling sound as Ansel's cock slid deeper into his throat. He could feel it, a distinct, brutal pressure all the way down. His nose pressed into the crisp hair at Ansel's base.
Ansel's hand finally fisted in his hair, he didnt yank it, just holding him there, impaled.
"Holy shit, Lance. Look at you. Your fucking face is stretched around my cock. You look like a goddamn slut born for this."
