Glad you’re okay. - Henry #5
Fritz knew Henry’s cock was big, but even with prep, the stretch is almost overwhelming. He arches his back further and tries to relax, but Henry is far bigger than anything he’s taken before.
“You’re so tight,” Henry breathes, heat settling on Fritz’s skin. His hands are steel where they’re braced on Fritz’s hips, but his lips are light when he leaves a trail of kisses on his shoulder. “So beautiful. So good for me. You can take it, can’t you?”
Fritz whimpers, but nods as Henry plunges further, impaling him. Henry is strong and steady as Fritz’s body struggles to accommodate him, but every inch fills him further and further until he is bursting at the seams.
When Henry bottoms out, when Fritz’s ass is flush against his body, he exhales a shaky breath. “Are you alright?”
Fritz nods quickly. He doesn’t have to ask for a moment, Henry holds himself still as the smaller man adjusts to the intrusion.
Once he starts to feel antsy, Fritz says, “You can move now.”
The first drag is tortuous as Henry slowly pulls out. He only moves an inch before snapping his hips forward and drilling even deeper into Fritz, punching a high-pitched moan out of him.
He pulls out again, further than before, and thrusts forward. Pull, push, pull… push.
The ache fades and the craving grows as Henry works himself up into a steady rhythm. Fritz demands more, more, more, please God, faster, until Henry’s thighs slap against his ass.
“Fuck, fuck! Right there!” Fritz has long forgotten about trying to brace himself against the window, and he slides a bit, his skin squeaking against the glass as he scrambles for purchase. He pushes himself back with his fingertips, meeting Henry’s thrusts with burning need.
An arm wraps around his chest and Fritz squawks as he’s wrenched backwards, flush against Henry’s chest. He wails as the angle changes, the cock inside him shifting and slamming home against his prostate.
“Open your eyes—look at the city,” Henry growls in his ear.
Fritz’s hair is plastered to his face, and sweat beads down his neck as he wrenches his eyes open with a moan. The world outside glitters as Henry thrusts with short bursts, driving into him over and over and over again.
“Look at all of those people out there. They all want a piece of you, but you’re mine.”
“Aaah! Aaah! Aaaaaahhh!!!”
The slap of skin is loud, but Fritz is louder, his voice climbing with every thrust—every time Henry hits that spot deep inside him.
“You’re so tight, but you take me so well,” he growls. This Henry is an animal that can’t be satiated, can’t be contained. “So well. Made for me.”
Henry steps them both forward and lets Fritz fall against the window again. They're so close that the driver’s upper body is trapped—pressed against the glass.
Fritz’s nipples pebble against the chilled surface, and he cries out when the thrusts shake his body, dragging his sensitive nipples back and forth.
Henry shifts again, changing the angle, and he finds Fritz’s prostate again. “Right there, right there!”
He’s close, so, so close. The pressure builds him up, lifting him higher and higher—closer and closer—towards his peak.
“Everyone out there is watching you fall apart on my cock. They need to know—they need to see that you are my driver.” Henry slams into him harder and Fritz sees stars. “And I am your race engineer.”
“Fuck!” Fritz keens, his back arching impossibly further. His hands are still trapped, still braced against the window, and he can’t reach himself to get off. “Touch me, Henry. Touch me, bitte, bitte, bitte!”
“Give ‘em a preview of next year.” Henry’s hand is lube-slicked as he wraps it around Fritz’s cock, pulling him in time with his thrusts. “They gotta get used to watching you come first.”
Fritz is already on edge, but he topples over it, shrieking as he spills. His cum hits the window in ropes, and Fritz can only reach up and hold onto the back of Henry’s head as he falls apart.
When the last drop is drained from his body, Fritz collapses forward against the window and gulps down his breaths.
“Need a moment?” Henry asks, stock still.
Fritz shakes his head. “No, no, keep going. I want you to come inside.”
Henry pulls out slowly and pushes in, building the rhythm up again. “I’m so close, Fritz. God, you feel so good like this.”
Fritz is oversensitive and exhausted, but he takes it, pushing his ass out to Henry’s thrusts. “Probably will not get to do this next year if you do not sign the contract.”
That isn’t what he meant to say. He meant to say something sexy.
Henry huffs a noise that sounds almost challenging. “Are you bribing me with sex?”
“Yeah.” Fritz hisses, his rim almost rubbed raw. “Is it working?”
“Possibly.” Henry pistons himself shallower, but quicker. “I was so jealous. So jealous when I saw you in that Red Boar garage.”
“Thought about you the whole time,” Fritz admits, arching back to meet his thrusts. “I hate the child. Hate that you compliment him for nothing.”
“Well, he’s certainly not you.”
Fritz grips Henry’s wrist and drags it from his hip to the front of his stomach, where he bulges with the intrusion. “Can you feel yourself in me?”
“Fuck, Fritz.” Henry presses down on the bump and thrusts against his hand. “You’re so small, I’m gonna—fuck—gonna fill you up.”
Henry stills, but his cock throbs deep inside of Fritz as he comes with a low groan. When he finishes, he falls forward, trapping the driver up against the glass.
His breath is hot and heavy, burning Fritz’s neck. “Fuck.”
“Yes,” Fritz answers, his arms finally giving out. He shifts and the limbs fall uselessly to his sides. “Fuck.”
Time stands still as they breathe together against the window overlooking the city. The condensation distorts the lights, blurring them together.
Henry is the first to move and Fritz hisses as the man gingerly withdraws himself, pulling out slowly. “Easy, eeeeeasy.”
Once they’re successfully separated, Henry kisses Fritz’s shoulder before staggering over to the desk.
“Not the bed?” Fritz asks, confused.
“Something I gotta do.” Henry uncaps the hotel pen with his slicked hand and shifts through the papers scattered over the surface of the desk. After a few marks he turns and faces Fritz. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
Henry’s face scrunches as he tugs at his condom, tying it off and popping it in the trash. He hobbles over to the bed and collapses bare naked on the top of the covers. “Okay, I signed the contract. I’ll send it to Adam tomorrow.”
Fritz whoops as he pounces on the bed, nearly throwing himself into Henry’s side. “Was it the sex?”
“No,” Henry mutters into the mattress. “It was your ‘together we do not suck’ speech.” He grunts, shifting until he can see Fritz’s face. “I don’t want to race without you either.”
Fritz dives in, peppering his bald head with kisses.
“Hey.”
Fritz groans and pushes back at whatever’s bothering him so early in the morning. He tries to hang on to the tail of his dream as it slips out of his fingers.
But it was so nice.
“Fritz, I think someone’s looking for you.”
He can hear it now, an incessant pounding on his hotel door.
With another long-winded groan, Fritz finally opens his eyes to a wall of bare skin. He’s tucked under Henry’s armpit—warm, slightly sticky. There’s a patch of wet skin, right where his mouth is. He pulls back, a little disgusted, though it’s probably just his own drool.
“I don’t think you want me to answer that door,” Henry says as he pushes Fritz off of him. “It sounds like German.”
Fuck.
Fritz is a little disoriented, but he still knows he needs to cover his dick, no matter who’s at the door. He stumbles to grab boxers and shoves them on, noting too late that they are definitely inside out.
Whatever, as long as his dick is hidden.
He checks the peephole and sighs before opening the door enough to peer through. “It is too fucking early for this, Dieter.”
His trainer is dressed and he’s towing luggage. “Early? You have thirty minutes before the van picks us up. Have you packed?” Dieter looks down at the strip of visible skin. “Did you forget you need to wear clothes on planes?”
“I can pack fast.” Fritz still has a slobber-wet chest in his bed, waiting for him to return. “See you downstairs.”
“I thought so. Let me help you pack, then.” Dieter pushes against the door. “I’ve already checked out, so it’s not a problem.”
“Please leave.”
“C’mon, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”
Dieter wins their little door scuffle, of course, because he’s paid to be a muscle-bound idiot. When the door opens wide, his eye immediately zeros in on Henry’s dress shoes. “I’ve never seen those shoes before.”
“Now that we have proven you wrong, we can meet in the lobby later.”
“Henry?” Dieter calls out.
Fritz has hope, just a small glimmer of hope, that Henry will not answer. Hopefully he’ll just hide under the covers until Fritz can control his pest problem.
Dieter isn't advancing any further into the room—which is probably a good decision, actually. Maybe they can get away with it.
But Henry ruins Fritz’s hopes so quickly. “Good morning, Dieter.”
Dieter makes a wholly undignified noise and Fritz finds just enough strength to push him back out into the hallway. “Let’s meet in the lobby in thirty minutes.”
“I fucking told you not to—!”
Fritz shuts the door in his face before he can say anything else and pointedly applies the security chain. He should use them more often.
He pads back into the wider room portion, hoping for a few more minutes in bed, but Henry’s already turned the lamp light on.
He sits up against the headboard, his wide chest exposed, his arms bulging, tense from where he’s holding the covers up around his lap. As if Dieter would try to rip the blanket away from him.
“Dieter gone?”
“Yeah,” Fritz confirms, eyeing him. “Can I suck you off?”
“What?!” Henry stands and searches for the clothes he dropped last night. He bends over to grab his boxers, giving Fritz a show. “You need to pack. I need to pack.”