Oh, that did it. Feeling his fingers inside Wesley's mouth, sucking, biting -- Conrad was gone, lost to the pleasure that rippled throughout his body. He came, hard, that hot, sticky mess filling Wesley up and leaking down Conrad's cock as he fucked him all the way through his climax. A moan ripped from his vocal cords, his eyes squeezed shut as he persisted, stubbornly refusing to stop.
That rush was so intense, though, that eventually, he had no choice but to slow down, if only for a second. He laid back against the sheets, gasping for air and trying desperately to get ahold of himself. Because they weren't done quite yet, and Conrad wasn't about to leave this job unfinished.
All the same, Conrad hadn't slept with anyone in a very long time. And even then, when he had been involved, it hadn't been good. But everything and everyone paled in comparison to Wesley Gibson. This man absolutely owned Conrad now and there wasn't a damn thing the Brit could do to fight it.
After that brief lull, Conrad sprung back alive, his hand once again in motion upon Wesley's cock. He was faster, now. More focused, with full intent of getting his dear, sweet assassin to spill everything he had all over him. "Wesley.. yes, babe, yes. Come on, just for me.."