Chapter 27 Stone
Stone
I’m going out of my mind. I expected this to be far more awkward, embarrassing, painful, shameful… something. But with Hanlon behind me, all I can focus on is how fucking good he feels. I need him to move faster, go deeper, to fuck me like he means it, but I know he’s afraid of hurting me.
So, I take matters into my own hands and thrust back against him, forcing him to fill me up.
He wants to know what’s wrong, but I can’t find the words to tell him how fucking right it feels.
I’ve never been this needy in my life. I’ve never needed anything more than the air in my lungs…until now. Right this second, if he doesn’t slam into me, I think I might die. I’m not sure if this is normal or if I’m broken or deranged or what, but there is no fear, only pure need.
“Stone, you keep this up, and it’s going to be over in twenty seconds.”
“Fine,” I pant, timing my rhythm so that as he thrusts forward, I’m slamming my ass back against him.
“Fuck, Stone,” he cries through gritted teeth, gripping my hips with punishing force.
“Harder,” I beg.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters.
He shifts his hips to gain more power, and the head of his cock swipes over my prostate, followed by the drag of that goddamn metal barbell. Once, twice, and I’m fucking gone.
My body bucks against him, and my dick jerks erratically, showering my sheets in cum.
And then I feel it.
Warmth spreads inside me, and Hanlon’s dick glides with even more ease as he groans his way through his orgasm behind me.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck.” Each word is accompanied by another slap of his skin against mine.
There’s a total disconnect between my body and my brain because my dick is still rock solid despite coming harder than I ever have in my entire life. Meanwhile, my brain is totally unwilling to process a thing.
There’s increased weight against my back, and when I turn my head, I see Hanlon has draped himself over me and is planting kisses between my shoulder blades.
After a minute of silence, he finally says, “You can come without your dick being touched?”
I shrug as best I can in this position. “Guess so.” It doesn’t seem that remarkable. I mean, it’s not like I could control it, or had to practice, or anything.
“I’m never going to be able to concentrate on anything else as long as I live,” Hanlon says.
He slides out of me gently, his piercing swiping my prostate once more, and I roll over to lie on my back. He notices my still-swollen cock immediately.
“Did I…shit. Did I read that wrong? I could have sworn you came.”
“I did,” I tell him. “I’m lying in the wet-spot of proof if you’d like to see it.”
“Then how…? You’re some kind of miracle, you know that?”
His words spread throughout my chest, piercing my heart with a love-sick arrow. I’m getting unexpectedly emotional about all this until his hand wraps around my dick, and I’m lost to the physical sensations once more.
Hanlon moves to straddle my hips, one hand on my cock, the other groping my pecs as my mouth falls open and I run my palms along his muscular thighs. It only takes another second before I’m thrusting into his hand.
“That’s it, baby. You gonna come again for me?” His voice is low, deep, and raspy from his previous exertion, echoing in my balls.
“Yes,” I moan, wanting him to keep talking.
“This poor, neglected cock just needed the right person to come along and unlock every filthy, depraved thing it’s ever wanted to do. And that person is me, isn’t it?” he asks.
“Mmhmm,” I mutter, writhing on the mattress.
“Fuck, Stone, I want to taste you again. Everything about you is so fucking delicious, from your ass to your crown, baby. But you tell me. Do you want my mouth or my hand?”
“Mouth,” I immediately reply.
“Good choice,” he says, sliding down my body.
Using a combination of his tongue and his hand on my dick along with two fingers in my ass, Hanlon drives me straight to the edge for the second time in five minutes.
When he expertly—and repeatedly—flexes his fingers over my prostate while lavishing my crown with hot pleasure from his mouth, my load threatens to drown him.
My hands fly to the back of his head as I fuck his perfect throat until the edges of my vision are blurry.
My dick finally starts to deflate but stalls about halfway through, and for a second, I think it’s about to refill. It’s actually kind of painful.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Hanlon says.
“I don’t know why it’s like this,” I say, mildly alarmed.
“My guess is your body is playing catch-up. You have ample testosterone that never gets used because of the connection your sex drive requires, but has been lacking,” Hanlon says, slipping his glasses back on.
Makes sense, I suppose. With a cocky grin, Hanlon says, “Next time you come hands-free, you’re going to be on your back because no way am I missing that again. ”
I smile sleepily, and Hanlon kisses my cheek.
“I’m going to clean you up. You did so fucking good, baby.”
If you’d asked me before, I never would have pictured myself as enjoying baby as a term of endearment directed toward me.
But something about it makes sense when Hanlon says it.
Like only he knows that I feel like my carefree childhood got cut a little short when he entered my life, and by him calling me baby—and our roles being reversed in the bedroom—it somehow balances the cosmos.
When he returns from the bathroom, he places the warm washcloth against my skin, and I fucking melt. He makes me drink a glass of water and forces me to endure him putting Aquaphor on my asshole, even though it doesn’t bother me.
“It might not now, but trust me, no one ever complains about extra lube.”
“Yeah, but you’re not fucking me,” I point out.
“But tomorrow, you’ll be glad I thought ahead,” he says with a wink.
It isn’t until we’re lying in bed, my head on his chest, his fingers trailing up and down my arm, that Hanlon allows his insecurities to come to the surface.
“What if this is too fast?” he asks.
I pause to consider the question seriously. He deserves more than just some bullshit platitude or subject change.
“Han, if we had been total strangers when you showed up here, then maybe this would be considered fast. But people get into bed all the time with strangers they’ve just met in a bar or somewhere else, and that feels like a much faster pace than six weeks.
Besides, I’d argue that our foundation is sixteen years old.
To some, it’ll be fast, fucked up, and a whole slew of other f-words.
To me, it’s exactly what I want and what I’ve needed.
The more I think about it, Hanlon, the more I realize it makes total sense that it’s you.
It’s only ever been you, even if the whole having sex part of the equation is new. ”
As the words leave my mouth, their brutal honesty settles in my bones.
Hanlon is who I want, consequences be damned.