Atticus #2
He watches me for a moment, seemingly weighing something within himself. There’s tension in his body—he’s almost vibrating with it, and I want to rub soothing circles down the expanse of his soft skin just to comfort him.
But I don’t. I let him think.
After another long, excruciating moment, he says, “I… I don’t know what I am or how anyone around me will react if I’m not… well, like everyone else. But I do know that I want you. That I’ve always wanted you.”
This declaration, this promise, is the most delicious thing I’ve ever had the honor of digesting. I knew he was watching me any chance he could get for years, but knowing he spent that entire time pining is so perfect. So sweet.
“Then you can have me,” I tell him, but this time my voice lacks confidence. In fact, the only thing it’s portraying is how infatuated and touched I am.
Cameron smiles. It’s a soft, happy smile that tells me I’ve just made his night as easily as he’s made mine.
“And,” I continue, pouring some lotion into my hand and smearing it over the fingertips of my pointer, middle, and ring fingers.
“It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.
As long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.
You’re still Cameron, the same as you were before, whether or not you take dick. ”
Stormy gray eyes fill with tears as he stares up at me, once again taking his bottom lip between his teeth. I can see that what I just said has affected him—how it’s comforted him.
“I’m not… less?” he asks quietly, a small gasp following his words as I loosely fist his cock again.
“Less of what?” I press. “Less of a person? Less of a man? Less normal?”
“All… all of it,” he breathes, fists clenching the duvet as I circle his rim with my wet fingers.
“No. You’re not less of any of those things. After I take your ass and pound you so hard it feels like you’re coming for ages, you’ll still be just as amazing, just as much of a man as the next guy,” I insist. “You’ll also be very sated.”
Cameron whimpers quietly, a soft sound I so rarely get to hear from him, and he nods just once.
“Now,” I say, “Time to stop talking logistics and get you ready to take me.”
With that, I begin pushing my finger inside of him.
Having already fingered Cameron once, he sort of knows what to expect. As I work him open, brushing that sensitive spot inside of him every other thrust, he pants heavily and bears down, taking the pain with the pleasure as his eyes clench shut.
Watching him swallow my fingers, stretching and accommodating me constantly, is so insanely hot. So surreal that I have to keep flicking my eyes to his face just to reassure myself that he’s real. That he’s here.
And as he loosens enough to take all three of my fingers, clenching around them as if he’s begging for more, I know the main show is about to start. That I’m about to get exactly what I want and feed him exactly what he is desperate for.
“Are you ready to surrender, sweetheart? Are you ready for me to bury myself in the deepest, most precious part of you?” I murmur into his stomach, running my tongue over the bruising.
Over the proof that someone else has touched him—marking it with my own presence and erasing the pain.
“Yes,” Cameron whispers, lashes trembling as he keeps his eyes clamped shut.
They don’t stay hidden for long; as I lotion my aching length and notch my head to his entrance, pushing in just enough to pop through the tight ring of muscle, he gasps, and his eyes widen.
And in them, lightning cracks. Thunder resonates throughout the room. I can feel his lust and his shock in them. It doesn’t matter that I warned him; he seems absolutely awed by the feeling of my length sliding in inch by torturous inch.
And I am on the verge of screaming, of needing something to punch or dig my teeth into, with how overwhelmed with sensation I am.
I’m not necessarily new to sex, but sex with him? This is a whole new experience.
“G-god!” Cameron chokes out, his thighs twitching as I hit the halfway mark.
“You can do it,” I assure him, feeling sweat bead down the side of my face as I fight not to slam home.
“But it’s so much,” he complains, face red with effort as he takes me.
I can see the way his muscles have pulled taut, his abs flexing with every small thrust of my hips. Without a second thought, I lean over his body, keeping myself still as I suck one of his pert nipples into my mouth.
“Fuck!” he shouts, his back arching and forcing me inside of him just a bit more.
I groan into his skin, lapping up the taste of him as he pulses around me frantically. “Cam, baby, don’t squeeze like that or I’ll lose my mind.”
“I c-can’t help it!” Cameron tells me, and I chuckle, a pained and forced sound. “Are you all the way in?”
Poor, poor boy. I lean back up to my full height, looking to where I’m only roughly three-quarters of the way buried inside of him.
“Uh,” I start.
“Please say yes. Please. I think any more will kill me.” Cameron sounds panicked, his knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the fabric under us, his robe lying open and collecting some of our sweat.
“Listen,” I command, reaching down to hold his face in the palm of my hands.
If there’s one thing I know about him, it’s that Cameron needs direction.
He needs to be told what is going to happen and how to handle it.
It comforts him. “I’m going to push the rest of the way in, and you’re going to take it.
You’re going to be good and swallow me up, just like I know you can. ”
He says nothing, only staring up at me with wide, glazed eyes.
I scoot my knees in tighter, causing his thighs to fall over top of mine, and sink the rest of the way in.
“Atticus,” Cameron cries.
It must be a lot. I know I’m big—though not huge—and he’s an anal virgin. But he’s also strong, clearly capable, and in desperate need of pleasure.
I sit still, letting him adjust as I rub my thumbs over his red cheeks.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “There we go.”
“W-when will it… When will it stop hurting?” He sounds so sad, so worn out already.
“Soon, sweetheart. I promise.”
I glide a hand up his thigh and resume stroking him with a tighter fist. Cameron’s breath hitches, and slowly, I can feel him adjust and loosen around me.
It’s a long process, one in which he continues to accommodate me with each second. And as I gently pull out, whispering soothing words to him as I sink back in, the rain begins to fall.
From his stormy eyes fall fat tears, and his lips start trembling even more noticeably.
“Still hurt, baby?” I ask him, thrusting slow and steady, searching for that little spot again.
“N-no… It’s fading. I’m just… you’re just… I feel full.”
I’m overwhelming him. I’m tearing him apart moment by moment and enjoying every singular second of it. I feel like a man; I feel larger than life.
“I know,” I croon. “I wish you could see it—how your hole is stretching so wonderfully. How you’re taking me so well.”
Cameron groans, and I’m mesmerized by the sight before me. His body is sucking me in, his skin flushed, the way his face is subtly shifting from uncertain and uncomfortable to a gentle bliss.
I begin to rock my hips a bit faster, moving my hands to grip his hips and lift him just a bit, rubbing and rubbing his inner walls as I search for that sensitive bundle of nerves more frantically with each second.