Kozy Kills #2 - Jericho and Atticus-Ch. 1 (Patreon)

Unedited and unbeta'd and so so so so smutty. Jericho and that mouth are at it again. Jericho “Do not let me forget to put pre-school in

Unedited and unbeta'd and so so so so smutty. Jericho and that mouth are at it again.  

Jericho

“Do not let me forget to put pre-school interviews on the family calendar,” Atticus said, voice somewhat muffled, his face half pressed against the pillow. “These people are militant about their punctuality and we’re already at a disadvantage because most of the hopefuls for their class have been on a waitlist since birth.”

“Hopefuls?” Jericho asked around a laugh,rolling onto his side to stare at his husband. He was so fucking beautiful with his bright blue eyes and auburn lashes, freckles everywhere. “They’re not even five. The only things they’re hopeful about is Bluey and peanut M&Ms.”

“You know what I mean. They need to get into this school. The only reason I’m even bothering to apply is because we’re legacies and that might carry some sway if we make a large enough donation.”

Jericho groaned. “I don’t know what you mean, freckles. Do we want our kids growing up to be pompous douchebags?”

“Hey, I went there,” Atticus said, offended. “We all did.”

“Yeah, and remember what you were like when I met you? I had to pull the stick out of your ass just to fuck you,” he teased.

“I still had you worked up enough to hunt me down and beg me to blow you in my office,” Atticus said, tone smug.

Jericho slapped his bare ass, smiling when Atticus gave a low, throaty moan. “The only one who begs around here is you, princess. Loudly. Frequently.”

“Only in bed,” Atticus countered. “And you can’t get enough of it.”

Jericho snorted, flopping back down on the bed beside him. “Someone has their sassy pants on today.”

Atticus gave him a look that had Jericho’s dick twitching, saying, “I have no pants on today. Neither do you.”

Jericho couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around Atticus’s throat and pulling him up to meet him, sliding their mouths together in a leisurely kiss, saying against his lips, “Mm, I know. You’re so fucking hot like this. I wish I could keep you naked and well fucked all the time. So pretty.”

Atticus’s lips twitched in amusement, his blue eyes so bright. “You’ve called me pretty and princess twice in five minutes, are you trying to tell me something?”

Jericho leaned forward and bit his nose. “Yeah, freckles. I’m trying to tell you you’re pretty and a pillow princess and that’s why I love you.”

Jericho got to watch the flush creep along his skin until the tips of his ears were burning bright red. “I love you, too,” he said, stuttering over the words.

Jericho let his fingertips ghost along Atticus’s skin, up his thigh, over the generous curve of his ass. “Oh, yeah? Prove it.”

Atticus gave a contented sigh. “The kids will be home in half an hour,” he reminded, though he made no move to get up. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Jericho gasped theatrically. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t think I could get you there in less than thirty minutes, freckles? I’m hurt.”

Atticus scoffed. “You’ve already ‘gotten me there’ two times in the last two hours.”

Jericho sat up, then got up on his knees, crawling until he had positioned himself between Atticus’s still open legs. “We have kids now, freckles. If I want more than a quicky in the shower, I have to take advantage of you whenever and wherever I can.”

“You’re going to break me and then what are you going to do?” Atticus said, but there was a smile in his voice.

“There’s always those gorgeous hands, or that practically pornographic mouth,” he said, staring down at Atticus’s ass with laser focus. “But I think you have one more round in you.”

Jericho slapped his hands down hard on Atticus’s cheeks, grabbing two handfuls, then spreading him open, staring down at his slightly open hole, still leaking from twenty minutes ago. He couldn’t stop the satisfied grunt he made as he watched his cum run down Atticus’s balls.

“Perv,” Atticus muttered, but then he clenched, causing more to spill out.

“I’m just checking to see if I ‘broke’ you, baby,” Jericho crooned, pressing his thumb against his rim, just to make him squirm. He was gorgeous like this. All pale skin and so many freckles, even on the skin beneath his palms. Jericho was already hard again. “Fuck, how do you expect me to stay away from you when your hole is so sloppy and wet that I could just slide right in…again.”

There was a time when Jericho talking like that would have turned his whole body into a tomato. Now he just wiggled beneath his palms.

Jericho released him, watching the flesh jiggle, before he leaned down and bit at his back, just below his ribs earning him another throaty sound.

“Twenty-five minutes,” Atticus recalled, in a sing-song voice.

Jericho chuckled. “Thanks, Big Ben.”

“I’m average, at best,” Atticus murmured.

Jericho pinched his side until he flinched away, then used his legs to push his further apart, loving how lewd a picture they made. “How do you want it? On all fours again? Or do you just want to lay there and take it?”

Jericho already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear him say it.

“Option B,” Atticus said around a jaw cracking yawn.

“Is that how you ask for it, freckles?”

Atticus shivered. “Fuck me? Please?” he asked.

“That’s all I get? Maybe I’m losing my touch.”

Atticus groaned, then came up just enough to meet his husband’s gaze, pupils blown and lips parted. “Please, fuck me. Breed me. Use me up.”

Jericho’s cock throbbed and he gave himself a couple of strokes to keep from coming too soon once he was sliding back in.

“That’s my pillow princess,” he teased, a smile on his face as his hands returned to his ass, spreading him open once more. “Arch your back for me, freckles.” Atticus gave a long-suffering sigh like even that was too much work, but still canted his hips like the rent was due. “That’s it, good boy.”

Atticus’s hips spasmed at the casual praise, choking on his words as he said, “Is-Is that a thing we do now?”

Jericho shrugged, massaging Atticus’s hole, spreading him open then letting it shut. “Just trying it on. You don’t want to be my good boy?” he asked, still teasing.

Atticus gave a full body shudder, goosebumps erupting along his skin. “I don’t…hate it.”

Jericho gave a low laugh, running the head of his cock along Atticus’s crease until it caught on his rim, making him suck in a sharp breath. “You and I both know the only thing you like better than lying here while I wreck you is you getting praised while you do it.”

“Unearned praise is just lip service,” Atticus said with a delicate sniff, even as he tried to push back on Jericho’s length, trying to get him inside.

“You love my lip service, baby,” Jericho taunted, sliding in an inch watching as Atticus clutched at the pillow beneath his head, giving a pained hiss and clenching down hard enough to make Jericho’s wince. “Relax for me, baby,” Jericho soothed, rubbing his hands over Atticus’s back, waiting for him to adjust. “You good?”

Atticus nodded. “Doesn’t hurt, just…sensitive.”

Jericho frowned. “Do you want me to stop?”

Atticus lifted his head to give him a pissy look. “Did I ask you to stop?”

Jericho snorted. A whole brat. Jericho had the cure for that. “Fair enough.” He slammed home in one hard thrust that inched Atticus up the mattress as they both groaned. “Fuck, freckles. You’re so fucking wet, but somehow still so tight.”

Atticus moaned low. “Does it feel good?”

See. Praise. “It feels so fucking good, freckles. You’re perfect. You’re always so fucking perfect.

Atticus gave a high whine that Jericho knew was involuntary, then he clutched the sheets. “Fuck me…hard, please? Make-Make it hurt just a little. I’m…oversensitive.”

“There he is. That’s the freckles I know. Such a slut for my cock,” Jericho purred as he pulled almost all the way out before driving back in. “Hard enough for you, baby.”

He moaned like a porn star but still managed to say, “But you better pick it up if you plan on me getting off too. Eighteen minutes.”

Jericho chuckled. How someone could be so practical with a dick in his ass was beyond him. “You really know how to keep the pressure on,” Jericho managed. “And you’re far too coherent. I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

Jericho didn’t pull out but rearranged them so his thighs sandwiched Atticus’s. From this angle, he had a lot more power and a much better angle. He gave an experimental thrust and Atticus rewarded him as his whole body went rigid and he moaned, “Oh, fuck right there.”

Jericho grinned, snapping his hips in building up a slow but hard rhythm. “Good, baby? Is that the spot?”

Atticus nodded. “Stop wasting time and fuck me how I want it,” Atticus complained, reaching back like he was going to coach him through it somehow.

Jericho caught his hand and pinned it behind his back. “I’m going to add bossy bottom to your title, freckles,” he said through gritted teeth, but started fucking him how he wanted it.

Sometimes he wanted it slow, wanted Jericho to just grind into him until he was nice and deep, but usually, he wanted this. Jericho pounding him into the mattress, spanking his ass, gripping his hair at the root until he was crying on his cock and begging to come.

Like now, Atticus made these sexy little uh, uh, uh, sounds whenever their hips met, driving Jericho wild. His husband was so predictable and so goddamn sexy it made him ache. First came the heavy breathing, then the little hiccuped breaths, then soon, the begging. He just had to get him there.

Jericho kept him spread wide, watching his cock disappear in an out, fucking his cum back into him with each thrust. The sounds were obscene, the squelch of Jericho’s load inside his sloppy hole, their heavy breathing, the steady rhythm of their loose headboard banging against the wall.

“That’s more like it,” Atticus panted between punched out breaths, sweat beading on his flushed pink skin.

Jericho released his arm, then blanketed himself over him, pressing his lips against his ear. “Hear how wet you are, freckles? So well fucked its just leaking out of you. You’re lucky I can’t get you pregnant because I will never get tired of this, of you, of filling you up again and again. Love seeing you full of me.”

Atticus gave a high whine and then a breathy “Oh, fuck,” words breaking somewhere in the middle.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Jericho soothed. Atticus always needed the words. Needed Jericho’s running commentary of how good he felt, how good he was, how much he wanted it.

Jericho slid his arms beneath his chest, plastering himself to Atticus’s back, then gripped his shoulders as he pounded away at him. “God you always take it so fucking well. So good. You’re always so fucking good for me. Meant to be fucked like this all day, every day. I wish I could just tie you to the bed and use you whenever I want.”

“Baby, oh, fuck, Jer…” Atticus managed, sounding almost drunk. “I feel…I feel…”

“I got you. I got you,” he promised even as he did his best to not fall off the cliff of his pleasure. Every thrust sent heat zinging through his core, pushing him closer. But he needed Atticus there too. “Yeah, you love this, huh? Love taking me nice and deep, love the way I fucking breed you. Do you like walking around all wet with my cum dripping out of you while you go about your day?”

“Hnf” was all Atticus managed, pushing his ear closer to Jericho’s lips like he craved more.

He rewarded him by biting his earlobe, then pulling a hand free to grip his hair, craning his head back for a messy kiss, spit slick and off center. He didn’t release him, just pressed his cheek against the mattress, pinning him in place as he hammered into him. It wasn’t pretty, but it sure was effective. Atticus was sobbing now, these short choked off sounds that let Jericho know he was almost there.

Sometimes Jericho wondered if he could make him come untouched just from his dirty talk? Maybe he’d try it the next time the boys went with Ever.  “Maybe I’ll plug you up after I pump this load into you. Would you like that, freckles? You can walk around for the rest of the day full of my cum, and then tonight, when the boys are asleep, I’ll be able to just fuck right in, and you’ll just be all sloppy and open, ready to take my cock like my perfect little whore.”

Atticus was rutting against the mattress, then pushing back to grind his ass against Jericho’s cock as best he could. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, yes, do that. Fuck, please do that. Please…”

Fire licked along his insides at the desperate whine in Atticus’s voice as he begged. He was so fucking pretty like this, all fucked out and hazy, drunk on Jericho’s cock.

Jericho could come right this second, but Atticus felt so fucking good, clenching on his cock every time he grazed his prostate, until they were both moaning. Jericho never wanted to stop, he felt like he could live happily like this, cock buried in his husband forever, falling asleep still inside him, and then waking hard and using him all over again and again.

“You close, baby?” Jericho managed, praying the answer was yes.

“Yes. Fuck. Yes. Please. Please. Harder,” he pleaded.

Jericho practically growled his words into Atticus’s ear. “I wonder how many times I would have to empty myself inside you before even a plug won’t contain it? What do you think, freckles?”

Another whine, and another broken sob. “I’m so close, Jer. Please, please, I want it, want you. Want this. You feel so fucking good, I want to feel you come inside me again.”

Jericho bit back a groan, eyes rolling at the jolt of bliss that shot through his blood like pure adrenaline, urging him to move faster, snap his hips harder. Fuck. “Yeah? Just from humping our mattress? My dirty baby,” he teased. Atticus didn’t mind a little degradation with his praise. “God, if the world only knew how fucking dirty you really are. The depraved shit you do for me. I wish I could show the world those videos I have of us, of you. How you beg for my cock, beg me to fill you up. My pretty princess, my perfect fucking whore.”

“Just for you,” he panted. “Only you. Only you.”

Jericho’s hips fell off rhythm at that, but he recovered quickly. “That’s right, freckles. Just for me. All mine. All fucking mine. Nobody else’s. Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Atticus was too far gone, nodding as he clutched his pillow, babbling, “Cum in me, fill me up, do it. I need it. I need it.”

Fucking hell. Jericho’s orgasm sucker punched him, his whole body going rigid, hips grinding into Atticus, body spasming as his cock throbbed, filling him up for the third time that morning.

He pulled out, flipping Atticus over, forcing four fingers inside him as he took his cock to the back of his throat, hollowing out his cheeks as he rough fucked his fingers into him hard just the way he needed.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Oh, fuck,” he moaned as Jericho curled his fingers just right. Then he gave another breathy, “Oh…” before flooding Jericho’s mouth with his bitter release.

Jericho swallowed it all, sucking him until he shivered from oversensitivity and pushed him away. He laughed, then kissed his inner thigh, then the base of his cock. He went to pull his fingers free but Atticus clamped his thighs around his arm, locking him in place.

“I know you like riding my fingers but you can’t live on them forever, freckles. Especially since our children will be home in…approximately six minutes,” he told him, trying to regulate his breathing. It felt like he’d just run a half marathon.

Atticus didn’t say a word, just pawed blindly at the top drawer of his nightstand until he got it open, then fishing around until he landed on what he wanted and tossed it in Jericho’s general direction. A plug, the pink one with a heart shaped gem at the base.

“Really?” Jericho asked. “You really want it?”

Atticus raised up on his forearms, expression equal parts irritation and exasperation. “You don’t want to? It was literally your idea.”

Jericho chuckled, then gave him a hard look. “There will never be a time when I don’t want to breed you and plug you up. Just so we’re fucking clear.”

He carefully removed his fingers and quickly replaced them with the silicone toy, watching transfixed as it disappeared inside his husband until the only thing left was the tiny heart.

Atticus sighed like Jericho had just disarmed a bomb with a second left on the clock, then reached for something else in the drawer. Jericho had just enough left to register he was throwing something at him before it almost hit him in the head. He caught it at the last minute, so close to his face it made him cross-eyed momentarily.

Wet wipes. They kept them stashed everywhere now. Kids were messy and the wipes were handy after sex when they were both too lazy to get up right away.

Jericho cleaned his hands, then cleaned Atticus up a bit. They both startled as a shrill sound suddenly cut through the silence. It took him a whole minute to realize it was Jericho’s phone.

His burner phone.

The one he kept in his top drawer.

Jericho frowned, looking at Atticus, who shrugged. He pulled the phone free, brows knitted together when he registered it was Thomas calling, not Calliope.

Jericho’s heart tripped in his chest. That was never a good sign. “Hello?”

“Hey, I have an emergency job for you. Needs to be done tonight.”

Thomas was rarely so keyed up that he skipped the pleasantries of basic phone etiquette. Something was definitely up.

“Um, a job? Tonight?” he repeated, for Atticus’s benefit.

“What’s the rush?” Atticus asked.

Jericho repeated the question to Thomas then just put it on speaker phone.

Thomas hesitated for a moment, then quietly said, “We found another one.”

“Another one what?” Jericho prompted.

“Another of Jeffries' men.”

Atticus audibly gasped at that.

Jericho’s eyes went wide. “Oh, shit. Where is he?”

“Here, in town, looking for his buddy that Adam and Noah took out last week.”

“Am I next in rotation? I thought August was next.”

“No, he is, but I need a favor and one of those favors is creeped out by August.”

What did that even mean? Why was Thomas being so cryptic? Atticus was behind him now, on his knees, hands warm on his shoulders. “What do you need?”

“I need your boys. This man was one of Jeffries' mentees. Chances are he knows everyone with the Mulvaney last name inside and out. I need faces he won’t recognize to go pick him up.”

Jericho leaned back against Atticus. “You want me to send my kids to apprehend a serial killer?”

Silence stretched for a long moment. “You do realize I mean the band of murderous vigilantes you keep housed beside your garage and not the children, right?” Thomas asked, deadpan.

Jericho knew Thomas was right. His kids weren’t kids anymore and they had faced numerous men—and women—far more dangerous than a lone serial killer. And they weren’t afraid of August. Well, maybe a little. But mostly he just unnerved them, which wasn’t that unusual. He unnerved almost everybody.

Jericho ran a hand down his face. He wasn’t going to refuse Thomas anything, but he also hated leaving the boys—Atticus included—alone at night. “Cricket’s on her way with the kids.”

“It’s only noon. Hang out with them until your guys deliver Jeffries' man to the cabin. They can’t snag him in broad daylight. He will definitely see them coming.”

“I’m going with you,” Atticus said.

“What?” Jericho asked even though he’d heard him just fine. “You wanna come on a job with me? Seriously?”

“This is personal,” Atticus said.

Jericho gaped at his husband. The longer they were married, the less Atticus participated in the wet work. It wasn’t his thing. That was fine with Jericho. He preferred Atticus home with the boys. He was surprisingly gentle with them and seemed to find them fascinating. More than once he’d come home to find all three of them passed out in his bed. He didn’t even try to move them, just slid in and slept hanging off the edge. Totally worth it.

He yanked himself from his thoughts. “I guess we can ask Ever to watch them?” Jericho said.

“Drop them off here,” Thomas said. “We can watch Disney movies in the theater room. You know how much they love the recliners and the popcorn machine.”

“Are you really signing on to watch Moana for the nine thousandth time? Voluntarily?” Atticus asked, incredulous.

Jagger had a huge crush on Moana. He just gazed, enraptured, every time she sang.

“Are you forgetting that we also have a baby?” Aiden called. Guess they were both on speaker phone. “It beats Ms. Rachel.”

Atticus snorted, “Yeah, just ask Adam.”

Aiden laughed.

“What?” Thomas asked, bewildered. “What does Adam know about Ms. Rachel?”

Aiden snorted, voice much closer. “Trust me, babe. You do not want to know.” There was a sound that made Jericho think Aiden kissed Thomas. Now that they were together and settled into their domestic bliss, they were nauseatingly cute and definitely still making up for lost time.

“Oh, God. Get off the phone before they start making out. I beg of you,” Atticus begged.

Aiden made a scoffing sound. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t been letting Jericho plow you like the back forty of Old McDonald Farm for the last three hours.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Aiden,” Thomas muttered, sounding horrified.

“Sorry, babe,” Aiden said, contrite. “But we both know it's true,” he added, yelling it into the speaker.

Jericho turned to look at his naked, debauched husband and grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We had a late breakfast—” that much was true— “and now we’re watching a…documentary.”

“Oh, yeah. On what?” Aiden asked, voice dripping with disbelief.

Jericho gave his husband a heated look and a filthy grin. “Animal husbandry.”

Aiden sputtered. “I’m sorry? On what?”

Jericho snickered. “You’d be surprised how much work goes into a successful breeding.”

Atticus gave him wide eyes and a threatening gesture. But luckily, Thomas said, “Well, enjoy your documentary. Don’t worry about packing anything for the boys. You know they’re rooms are fully stocked.”

“You got it,” Jericho said as if Thomas didn’t remind him every time. “See you tonight.”

He returned the phone to its place in the drawer. Each of the grandchildren had their own room. Felix and Avi’s twins shared the nursery with Theo but there were three insanely overpriced cribs and two fully stocked closets. Jet and Jagger shared a room as did Arabella and Adelyn, but that was by choice.

Thomas never missed a chance to have all of his grandchildren with him. Jericho wouldn’t be shocked if he was calling August and Avi right now to ask for them to bring their children to him as well. They’d had a nanny for Theo but Thomas fussed over him so much that they’d finally just let her go.

While the rest of them were exhausted from raising infants, toddlers and kindergartners, Thomas was always ready to roll around on the floor with them like they were a basket of puppies. It was crazy how he’d changed just in the short time Jericho had known him. He was happy, relaxed…semi-retired.

“I cannot believe you said that in front of my father,” Atticus said, beet red. Before Jericho could respond Atticus’s phone chimed.

Atticus rolled to reach it, then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Forget that was in there?” Jericho asked, sliding his thumb between his husband’s cheeks to press on the base of the plug until he moaned, then slapped at his hand.

“Do not get me hard when our children will be here in…” he trailed off reading his texts. “Nevermind, Cricket says they’re stuck in traffic. She will probably be another twenty minutes.”

“Oh, thank God. Let’s take a shower. I’m so…sticky.”

He stood, pulling Atticus to his feet. He buried his face in Jericho’s neck, then licked a long stripe up his neck. “Not sticky. Salty. Sweaty. It’s nice,” he murmured. “I like it.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my persnickety neat freak of a husband?” Jericho teased.

“We have two kids about to start pre-k. There’s no shortage of body fluids that I haven’t been covered in. Jet literally spit a chewed up peanut butter and jelly sandwich directly into my palm just yesterday.”

Jericho smiled. “That’s different. Those are our children.”

Atticus rolled his eyes. “I let you cum in me three times this morning alone, I love fucking you when you get back from the gym pre-shower, and you fuck me in your office so much, a have an embarrassing pavlovian response to the scent of motor oil now. Who’s persnickety?”

“Touche, freckles. Touche.” He wrapped his arms around him, then spun them around walking him backwards towards the shower while he kissed him deep and dirty, all teeth and tongue. “You think we have time—”

Atticus cut him off with a nip to his bottom lip. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I will shower in the guest room.”

“The fuck you will,” Jericho challenged, then gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Okay, freckles. I will just scrub your back and you can scrub mine.”

“Sounds good,” Atticus mused. Jericho reached out, pressing on the plug once more, earning another exasperated look, but his eyes were all shiny. “Perv.”

Jericho laughed, slapping his ass. “You know it.”