Chapter 31 #2
“No, no—I’m not making fun,” I said quickly, holding up a hand. “I just need to make sure I heard that right, because this is very important, and it deserves my full attention.”
He met my gaze again. “I want you to top. I’ve wanted it for a while. But you said you preferred it the other way around.”
Okay. Yeah. My brain had officially fried.
For a while?
How long was “a while”? How long had he been fantasizing about this?
I cradled his jaw. “Do you remember that whole conversation? Because I remember you asking if I wanted to, and me saying that the answer to fucking you was a resounding yes,” I reminded him.
“But you preferred—”
I placed a finger over his lips. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want it. We were talking about your first time, and I really wanted you to feel safe. I thought starting as a top might be easier on you.” I lowered my hand.
“Was it like that for you too?”
“Like for my first time? With a guy?”
He nodded.
“Uh, no,” I admitted, heat blooming at the back of my neck. “I’ve actually never topped a guy before. So I guess this would be a first for both of us.”
Atty blinked at me. For a full ten seconds. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I just figured—”
“It was easier for them,” he finished with a frown.
“And, while we’re being brutally honest… I haven’t had sex—the penetrative kind, with me doing the, uh—since before we started dating. Like, the first time.” I exhaled. “So I might be a bit rusty.”
More blinking.
I shoved the covers off us. It was getting really fucking stifling in there with all the blushing going on. Also, not that it had any business giving opinions right now, but my dick was rock-hard—just from the conversation.
Atty’s face shifted from baffled to determined. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“Both of our things.”
“This conversation is so fucking eloquent,” I said, breathless with a laugh.
“You know what I mean. You do what you want to do to me, and then we both tick off our firsts together.”
Wait, what?
“So, I’m just gonna hop in the shower while you process, okay?” He kissed me quickly and slipped out of the room.
Did he just give me permission to eat him out?
And I was supposed to fuck him after?
I stared down at the tent in my sweats.
There was no way in hell I was going to last that long.
A few seconds—or maybe a couple of hours—passed before he returned, fresh from the shower, and my mind was running in circles. Were we actually doing this right now?
The towel hung low on his hips, and he looked at me with a mix of apprehension and longing.
It was the first one that did it—that look. I didn’t want him to be scared. All I’d ever wanted was for him to be happy, to feel safe and free around me. Never scared.
I took a breath and held out my hand.
He smiled—just a little—and took it, sitting down beside me. I didn’t hesitate. I climbed onto his lap and kissed him, determined to chase the nerves away.
I pressed on his shoulders, easing him down to the mattress. His eyes stayed on mine as he scooted back onto the pillows. I didn’t follow yet. I used the space he gave me to trail kisses down his body—his chest, his stomach, the sculpted line of his hips.
I nuzzled against his cock, feeling it twitch beside my cheek, then started planting kisses around it, teasing him until he was fully hard. My tongue ran along the underside while my hands skimmed over his thighs, feeling them tense under my touch.
I took him into my mouth, slowly, guided by the sound of his breaths hitching.
I watched for every signal—the slight bend of his knees, the way his fingers tightened in my hair.
I tried to take as much of him as I could.
It made my eyes water, and I couldn’t manage more than a few deep pulls—but he still loved it.
He moaned, low and quiet.
But I knew I could make him loud.
I popped off his dick and smiled to myself. “On your front, sweetheart.”
He hesitated for a second before obeying.
Then I traced those same kisses up his spine until I could tilt his chin and meet his lips.
“Stay like that, okay? Just spread your legs a little and relax. If anything makes you uncomfortable, say the word and we stop.”
Atty nodded, twisting himself to kiss me a couple more times—like he was saving them for the road. Before I moved down, I grabbed the lube and settled myself between his thighs, kneeling over him and taking a second to appreciate the view beneath me.
His perfectly shaped, full cheeks—smooth, inviting, and ready to be worshipped. As they should be.
It started with a soft kiss to the swell, then a nibble. Then my hands circled them and grabbed on—hard. I spread him apart, not too much, careful not to make him feel overexposed. But fuck, he was so perfect it had to be a sin.
I inched closer, my thumb dipping into the crease and circling his rim.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine being inside him.
I stole a glance up—his back arched sinfully, elbows tucked in, head bowed between his shoulders.
A fucking angel. If he’d sprouted wings right then, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.
“I love you.” I started my kisses at his tailbone, working lower, inch by inch, until I reached my goal. I pressed one kiss there, lingering, letting him grow accustomed to the sensation before giving one firm lick.
My hands held him open, palms warming against his skin. I felt his muscles tense, then gradually loosen beneath my touch. I licked him again. Then again. Lapping over him until I felt him melt beneath me. I inched even closer, pressing my lips to him and sucking softly.
His thighs trembled beside me, and a small gasp slipped from his throat.
I smiled, diving in fully now, focusing the strokes of my tongue to pull every sound I could. His hips began to rock back, seeking more.
I had more. So much more.
I spread him again—wider this time, now that he was relaxing into it.
Slapping his thigh lightly, I said, “Bend this leg up, sweetheart.” And he did without hesitation, granting me better access. I dropped back down, sucking harder, keeping my hips suspended above the mattress, denying myself any friction. Because those sounds—fuck, those sounds—were perfect.
I steadied myself with my thumb on his rim and pressed my tongue against him, keeping pressure there until his body gave in and I slid inside. Alternating between thrusting gently, then licking, then sucking, I kept going until he started grinding down, quite literally humping the bed.
Uncapping the lube, I slicked my fingers. I reluctantly pulled my mouth away, but stayed close—watching as one finger slipped inside him with almost no resistance.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, no trace of discomfort in his voice.
I curled my finger, giving him a beat to adjust before moving. I licked him again, then pressed in a second one.
No fucking resistance. None.
I was going to lose my mind.
Atty’s breath hitched as I pulled my fingers nearly all the way out before easing them back in.
“Does that feel good?”
He nodded, his forehead resting on the sheets. “Amazing,” he managed before falling into another groan.
“I’m going for three, okay? Get on your knees.”
Still on his forearms, he shifted, sticking his ass up, knees spread, hips arched—completely getting the assignment. I growled, diving back in, unable to stay away from him for long. The musky scent of him was perfect—heady—making my thoughts blur and scatter.
It was only the idea of sliding into him that made me pull back. I pressed two fingers in again, watched the way his body took them.
“More,” he said.
I nodded, my forehead resting against his thigh, watching intently as I slipped not two but three fingers in this time. There was resistance—just a little—but I went slow, easing him open, then thrusting gently.
“Noah,” Atty groaned, wrecked and wanting.
“Yeah?” I panted, brushing kisses over the curve of his back.
He looked over his shoulder, his expression completely undone. “Do it. Fuck me.”
My body moved on autopilot, not questioning or denying him for even a second. I slicked myself, groaning at the contact, then reached for more lube, coating him with care, set on making this nothing but pleasure.
Shifting my weight onto my knees, I took one final second to admire the image: the head of my cock nudging his rim, circling slowly.
Then I pressed in.
I fought the urge to shut my eyes, forcing them to stay open—watching, breath held, as the resistance gave and the crown eased inside. He clenched around me, body taut as he adjusted to the intrusion.
“Fuck,” I breathed, pressing my free hand to the small of his back, urging him to arch more.
He did, legs sliding on the bed, almost sucking my dick deeper into him.
“How are we doing?” I spared a quick glance at his face. His eyes were closed, his cheek resting on his forearm. He nodded, hips inching backward—wordlessly asking for more.
I kept the pressure steady, feeling his body yield and then tighten around me like a vise. And then—finally—his ass settled flush against the cradle of my hips, and I swore I’d died and gone to fucking heaven.
“Just a minute,” I muttered—to him or myself, I wasn’t sure. I focused on breathing, on not coming too fast, which was becoming increasingly difficult with how he kept clenching and unclenching around me, like the most exquisite torture.
“Maybe we should’ve used a condom,” I said with a breathy laugh.
“Why?”
“Don’t want to come so soon.” I dropped over him, one palm pressing into the bed, needing to feel my weight on him. The other slid between his legs, finding his cock and stroking it gently.
“Oh, fuck.” He moaned at the contact, his hips pushing back into mine.
I ran my thumb over the tip, finding it slick with precum. I groaned, circling the pad of my thumb over it, and a shiver ran through him.
“Like that?”
“So good—please move. It feels so fucking good,” he said in one ragged breath.
I pulled back and gave a slow, careful thrust, testing our pace. Then another. And another.