Ward #7
He had nothing to say to that as I hovered, pressing against him and then making sure the angle was right.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed forward. There was resistance, but between the work I had done and his eagerness, all I needed to do was back up a little and bend him forward.
I stared down at our bodies and grunted when I both felt and watched the head of my cock pop inside him.
“Oh God,” he whispered faintly, gripping my tip with his muscles before reaching back and gripping my waist.
It took me a heartbeat to realize he was trying to pull me toward him, and I wasn’t one to deny a man his pleasure.
Pushing forward, I sucked in a breath and held it as I tried to stay in control and enjoy the feeling.
He was still tight, but not as tight as he’d been around my fingers.
And despite it apparently having been ages since anyone had fucked him, the steady pressure of him pulling my hips never let up.
“You okay?” I wondered because even with the prep, there still had to be some discomfort, if not the burning ache that I’d been on the receiving end of last night.
His answer was to yank me forward, and I gave a strangled noise as my last couple of inches were buried inside him without warning.
My grip on his hips tightened as I fought the urge to lose control right then and there.
Instead, I focused on breathing and running my hands up and down his back, not to soothe him since he seemed to be dealing with the pressure, but to give my mind something to focus on.
God knew how much time had passed before I was confident I could continue.
Reaching forward, I took hold of his shoulder with one hand, keeping the other on his hip.
I ground into him, a flash of heat blasting through me when I heard him give a low groan.
I had done more drugs than the average person had ever seen, even on TV, but nothing compared to the intoxication that filled me as I pulled back and pushed into him again, the feel of his insides hot and firm around my cock as I buried myself.
The overriding demand for more that I’d felt last night came back with a vengeance, and I slid almost completely out before snapping my hips forward.
It was a bold move because God knows, as demanding as he was, there was such a thing as too much too soon.
Yet as soon as I was swiftly buried in him again, his body jerked and he grunted, pushing back into me, demanding more.
I was helpless to do anything else.
Standing up, I got into the rhythm and began to pound into him.
I could feel my body growing warmer, sweat breaking out even as I saw the same on his back and face.
Arlo pressed himself against the window, his fingers splayed, and the sound of our bodies meeting repeatedly grew louder and louder as I worked up an even harder pace.
I was giving as good as I had got, and he was taking it just as well as I had, if not better.
“Oh, please,” he whimpered as I battered him; his head would have bounced off the window if he hadn’t used his hand as a cushion.
I knew what he was begging for, and I was more than happy to give it to him.
Tightening my grip on his shoulder, I pulled him upright and pushed forward.
I briefly prayed the window was strong enough to withstand the force as he was pressed against it.
Except for his hips, because I had reached in front of him and wrapped my hand around his cock.
He could have grabbed it, but he hadn’t.
Maybe he had been waiting for me to initiate or give permission.
Whatever it was, I began stroking his cock as I continued to thrust. I couldn’t keep the same rhythm and strength as before, but I stayed deep inside him, thrusting against his insides and making him cry out and whimper.
It took less than a minute before I felt his body go rigid, his breath catching at the end of each inhale, and his legs began to shake.
His cry was low and throaty, and I felt his grip around my cock grow even firmer as his cock jumped in my hand.
He splattered the window as I held onto him, gasping as I felt the grip around me become like iron, refusing to let me go as he came hard.
I knew the moment he was done when he sagged against the window, and I carefully pulled out once his muscles released their grip on me.
“Here,” I all but panted, at the edge of the precipice and desperate to tip over the edge.
Arlo swung around, and when I pushed down on his shoulder, he didn’t miss a beat or hesitate.
He was on his knees in a heartbeat, peering up at me with big eyes that burned with the leftover lust he still felt.
Hovering over him, I jerked myself; it was sloppy and erratic, but it was all I needed.
The tipping point came when he tipped his head back and opened his mouth.
Swearing, I came hard, spraying his face as my hips twitched through my orgasm.
Pleasure rocked through me as I gripped his shoulder, watching as I painted his face before aiming at his mouth to cover his tongue.
Another curse left me when he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the tip of my dick, sucking and making me feel like I was going to faint right there.
“Well then,” I panted as the last of the pleasure drained from my body, leaving me with a floating warmth and slight dizziness.
I didn’t hesitate to flip around with my back against the glass to slide down and join him on the floor.
“I have to say, the fact that you are usually so prim, proper, and put together, but so—”
“Whorish?” he asked with a lazy smile.
“Mmm, I don’t like that word since my mother used it against you, but...yes, or slutty if you prefer. Yes, slutty in your sex life. It’s an exercise in dichotomies, and it’s going to drive me insane if I’m not careful...in a good way.”
“Good to know,” he said with a chuckle, leaning over to lay his head on my lap. “I like this. You, me...us.”
“I do too,” I admitted, curling my arm under his and taking hold of his hand to squeeze it.
“So...keep going as things are? See where they take us?”
“Definitely.”
“No one else?”
“No one else, just you for me, and me for you.”
“Okay.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”