Landon #3
Ah, shit. I’ve never actually used coercion in the bedroom before, but knowing the other party is a willing recipient of it? It kind of makes me harder. My cock twitches against his.
I could force him to suck me. I could convince him to lock my dick up again and fuck several orgasms out of me, keeping him chained to me all day.
But honestly… what I really want…
“Answer me honestly,” I tell him, feeling the air simmer between us and my desire for cooperation build in my throat as I force my gift out. “Do you hate me?”
Nate’s eyes widen, his body locking above mine. To be fair, he said to give him an action, not force the truth from his body. But I can handle his anger later. Right now, I need to know. I need to see if I’m the only one drifting further from loathing and into something much more dangerous.
“I…” He seems to be struggling. Nate is practically vibrating on top of me as his brows furrow, and his eyes search mine. But I think he can see how much I need this, how important it is, and he takes pity on me.
His body suddenly relaxes, his dick sliding over mine obscenely as he sighs and says, “No, little Lanny. I don’t hate you. Not anymore.”
My chest fucking explodes. The stars around us seem to brighten, as if they’re connected to my heart and not Nate’s will. A bright, uncontrollable smile forces its way from inside of me to shape my lips.
“But you’ll still fuck me like you do?” I ask, and an evil, twisted grin morphs Nate’s features.
“I’ll fuck you like I want to kill you,” he promises, and every hard ridge of his body is suddenly very prominent. Like I’m just now aware of how big he truly is.
“You’ll lock up my dick and take me? You’ll let me fight you and dominate you from below?”
“You can try,” he teases, dropping his lips to my jaw so I feel every word. “But not today.”
A disappointed sound leaves me, and Nate chuckles.
“Why?” I demand. “You don’t want to fuck me?”
“No, I do,” he insists. “But today… Today, I think you need something different.”
As his head lifts to meet my gaze, his expression is soft and coddling, like he’s attempting to comfort me. The look is foreign on him, but I want it all the same.
“W-what’s that?”
Nate hums gently, rubbing his thumb over one of my eyes and watching as it comes back damp. “Want me to put you back together, sweet baby?”
“Please,” I beg, and I’m not even aware of the coercion that is leaking into it until Nate’s eyes roll back and he groans, loud and long.
“God, why does that feel good now? It’s like your gift is speaking to mine.” His breathing has gone harsh, his dick pulsing against mine and, together, making us hot and slippery.
I want it so badly. I want this kind, caring version of him almost as much as I want his violence. Nate is an enigma, unpredictable and surprisingly soft when he wants to be.
Or maybe it’s just his body speaking to mine, hearing my desperate needs and feeding them to me with care.
Nate comes to his senses, his eyes darkening as he adds, “But I hear you. I’m going to fuck you so soft, so sweet that you have no choice. You’ll be forced to feel as whole as you truly are, despite what that sadness tells you.”
And then he slides down my body, taking my cock into his mouth in one smooth inhale.
I gasp, bucking up against him as he sucks and pulls at my skin, swallowing me whole. The whole room is exploding, and for a moment, I think I’m losing my mind. But then I notice that the stars are shattering and crumbling to pieces, the smell of something sweet and addictive filling the air.
And then I see it. Me, standing by the door with my eyes red and my lips trembling. Suddenly, a new me takes its place, my mouth bound by a tie and my cock locked up as I sit on my knees on the floor, whining.
My eyes drop to Nate, who is still between my legs and sucking as if his life depends on it, and his eyes are clenched shut, his brow pinched.
Nate is showing me different versions of myself, all from his point of view. And as his tongue dips into my slit, making me cry out, a new version of me appears.
The room is swallowed by darkness, new, dazzling stars illuminating the space as I stand there, right by the kitchenette sink, watching them in awe.
That must be me, in his house, right after I freaked out.
“N-Nate,” I groan, hands reaching out to grip the strands of his dark hair. “S-show me more.”
He growls against me, his gift reacting to mine, as the room shifts to its normal appearance, and I see him standing by the door, with me before him as I speak, but this time I can see his face.
I’m talking, and he’s looking at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. Like every word that leaves my mouth is a prayer, a beautiful song he can’t help but fall into.
“Please,” I plead. “Tell me you don’t hate me again. Tell me I’m pretty. Fuck, baby, just come up here.”
I need to look into his eyes. I need to understand what is happening here and why it feels so good.
And Nate complies, letting my length slide from his mouth with a wet pop before he crawls back up my body, straddling me. His hands grip my face, his eyes drilling into mine.
“Do you see?” he asks me. “Do you see yourself through my eyes?”
“Fuck me,” I demand. “I want to feel you. I need to feel all of this inside me.”
Nate groans, his forehead falling to rest against mine as he gathers his own spit and my arousal from my stomach where it’s leaked, before pushing his fingers between my legs and against my hole.
“You’re going to kill me,” he complains, breathless. “I just want you to feel good. I want to keep taking away that sorrow and replacing it with so much pleasure you can’t even think. Why is that, Landon? Tell me.”
But I can’t answer a question I don’t know the answer to, especially not with his finger pushing inside of me.
So instead, I say, “Just keep touching me. Please, Nate, don’t stop touching me.”
His finger is so deep inside of me, searching and probing and stretching, that I don’t catch his answer. I’m too deep in sensation. I’m being blinded by pleasure.
And then Nate leans back, reaching into his bag at the bottom of the bed and pulling out a bottle of lube. He pours some over my stretched hole, then adds another finger.
I feel… liberated. I am completely exposed to him, vulnerable and weak, and he’s not striking. And it feels amazing.
“God, you’re swallowing me up,” Nate praises. “You’re being so good, baby. I knew you could be so. Fucking. Good.”
He sounds delirious, like my pleasure is spurring on his as he grinds his length against me. But he doesn’t rush, doesn’t panic. Instead, he works me open slowly until he has three fingers buried deep inside of me and I’m begging for more.
“Enough,” I choke out. “Do it.”
“Make me,” Nate shoots back, grinning as he lubes up his cock.
“Put your dick inside of me, Nate,” I command, and with my coercion turned up to ten, he has no choice but to notch his head to my hole and push in.
The stretch is just as good as it always is, if not better with how much prep he gave me, but it still feels different. More intentional, like a gift.
“Y-yes,” I grunt out, and at the same time, Nate moans so loud and deep in his chest that I can feel it in mine.
Like we’re just that connected. Like this really is something more than it was before.
“You feel incredible,” he grits out, slowly rocking against me as I writhe beneath him. “You look so pretty.”
I didn’t coerce him to say that. He just wanted to. And that makes me feel so beautiful, so seen, that I nearly blow untouched, without any stimulation to my prostate.
“Harder. Please, let me feel you.” I sound so desperate, so needy, but instead of it embarrassing me, it heightens my arousal.
And Nate’s too, apparently.
“Yes,” he groans. “Beg for it, babydoll. Beg for my cock like you’ll die without it.”
You know what? I just might.
“I’ll do anything,” I plead. “I’ll be so good this time if you just fuck me harder.”
“This time,” Nate repeats, chuckling lowly. But he does it anyway, slamming into me and lifting my hips just right to press into my prostate with every thrust.
“F-fuck!” I screech, my hands clinging to the thick hotel comforter beneath me. “Just like that. God, right there.”
“I know, I know,” he pants out. “I can feel it. You clench around me every time I—fuck—every time I hit it.”
He’s so hot, throbbing inside of me like he just can’t wait to burst. It’s intoxicating to feel every hard ridge of his length and silky smooth skin as it—
Wait.
“Nate,” I gasp out. “No condom.”
Instead of locking up, instead of freezing and pulling out like he’s terrified of doing something so intimate with me, he speeds up.
“No condom,” he confirms. “Needed you to feel me. Needed you to feel warm and full.” He grunts, his eyes drilling into mine. “Plus, you’re not sleeping with anyone else, anyway. Not while you’re mine.”
Mine. I’m… his?
I don’t mention that I could have contracted something prior to sleeping with him, mostly because it’s definitely not an actual worry, but also because I refuse to ruin this moment.
This moment of pleasure and claiming, and everything we both swore we would never be.
“Say it,” I command, and I don’t have to use my gift this time. Nate just listens. He knows.
“I don’t hate you, Lanny. I don’t even dislike you, which is horrible,” he teases, and I know the feeling very well.
“And you t-think I’m pretty,” I add around a moan, feeling his head slam into my prostate so sweetly as his hands caress my skin.
“So fucking pretty,” Nate agrees. “You’re like a beautiful little demon. The thing I shouldn’t want but crave anyway.”
There have never been truer words than these. Nate knows me now; he actually sees me and doesn’t despise what’s in front of him. And I… I want him. I want him always.
“Need to come,” I rush out, practically vibrating beneath him as my dick twitches and my toes curl.
“Are you asking for permission?” Nate jokes, his hairline beaded with sweat as he shoves into me and pinches my nipple between his fingertips.