Chapter Eight
Slade
The sunlight filters through the thin curtains in soft, golden strips across the room as I wake up groggily, a deep yawn stretching through my chest. I’m still in Andrew’s bed, the sheets warm and rumpled from the night, and for a second the unfamiliarity of it all settles over me like a quiet confession.
My arm falls to the side, reaching instinctively, but the space beside me is empty.
I frown, eyes cracking open just enough to check the clock.
It’s not even eight yet, and it’s Saturday…
Andrew always sleeps in late on weekends, buried under the covers.
Then I hear the bathroom door open down the hall, followed by the soft pad of footsteps and a sleepy yawn as he starts back toward the room.
A small, secret thrill runs through me, lighter and sharper than it should be now that I know Cici is out of the picture for good.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I kick the quilt off the bed as if by accident, letting it slide to the floor in a heap.
I roll onto my back, the morning hardness in my boxers now completely obvious, tenting the thin fabric in the early light.
I sling one arm over my face, covering my eyes, and force my breathing to stay slow and even, pretending I’m still lost in sleep.
The bedroom door clicks shut behind him. His footsteps stop dead in the middle of the room.
“Fuck,” he whispers, barely audible, the word soaked in shock and something darker.
I have to fight the grin that wants to break across my face. I know exactly what he’s staring at.
“Okay… just cover him back up… it’s fine,” he mutters under his breath, like he’s trying to talk himself down.
I hear him round the bed, the soft rustle of fabric as he bends to grab the discarded quilt and tosses it back over me in a clumsy heap.
“Ugh, too early,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.
Before I can brace myself, the mattress dips as he climbs back in, deliberately facing away from me and scooting toward the far edge in an obvious attempt to put distance between our bodies.
I keep up the act of being asleep for a few more heartbeats, then roll over slowly, innocently, shuffling closer until my chest is almost flush with his back.
I fling my arm over his waist, heavy and casual.
Andrew’s whole body tenses instantly beneath my touch.
A second later, one of those devastating little whimpers slips out of him when he feels exactly what’s pressing, thick and insistent, against the curve of his ass through our thin layers of clothing .
He clears his throat, voice rough and uncertain. “Slade?”
I ignore him on purpose, keeping my breathing deep and steady, arm staying exactly where it is.
Andrew doesn’t move. He just lies there, frozen, like he’s waiting for me to wake up or pull away.
I let my hand twitch downward, slow and deliberate, slipping beneath the waistband of his pyjama pants and into his boxers. My palm stops, fingers brushing the base of his cock. He’s already half-hard, and it doesn’t take long at all for him to swell fully against my hand, hot and throbbing.
Andrew lets out a quiet, broken moan. “Jesus Christ…”
His hips start moving on their own… slow, tentative little rolls that push him through the loose curl of my fingers, chasing the friction like he can’t help himself.
He drags the covers up over his head in a rush, clearly embarrassed, muffling the next soft sound that escapes him.
The moan is too quiet, too hidden, and that displeases me more than it should.
I throw the covers off again with a sharp flick of my wrist, the quilt tumbling to the floor in a heap.
A low growl rumbles up from deep in my chest as I move, careful but decisive, rolling Andrew onto his front so he’s lying flat against the mattress.
I’m mindful of his hard cock trapped beneath him, not wanting to crush it, but the shift still makes him whimper into the pillow .
I kneel between his spread legs, his thighs still pressed flat to the bed so his ass juts up beautifully, forced higher by the insistent press of his erection.
My hands slide up under the hem of his pyjama top, pushing the soft fabric higher and higher along the smooth line of his spine until it bunches beneath his shoulder blades.
I lean down and drag my teeth across his skin in slow, deliberate bites…
pretty little marks that bloom pink and then deepen, claiming every inch I touch.
“You don’t hide those moans from me,” I growl against the nape of his neck, voice rough and low. “Understood?”
Andrew nods quickly into the pillow, the motion jerky and eager.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his bottoms and boxers and drag them down his thighs, shuffling backward on the bed until I can pull them off completely and toss them aside.
The sight of his bare ass makes me groan…
Goddamn, it’s so round and plump, perfectly shaped and just begging to be used.
I palm both juicy cheeks with my large hands, spreading him open, kneading the soft flesh like I own it.
“Bend your knees,” I demand, the words coming out dark and commanding.
He obeys instantly, drawing his knees up and out to the sides while keeping his chest and hips mostly flat against the mattress. His cock has just enough room to breathe now, hanging heavy and leaking between his spread thighs, the position leaving him completely exposed and vulnerable.
I reach over to the bedside drawer, grab the bottle of lube we’d used before, and flip the cap open. I don’t warm it. I simply tilt the bottle and let a thick, cold stream drip straight onto his tight little hole, watching the way he jolts at the sudden chill.
Andrew moans with raw anticipation, the sound desperate.
I love the way my hands look against his hips, big, rough, splaying wide and possessive, fingers digging in just enough to hold him exactly where I want him.
I lean in closer, my morning-hard cock straining against my boxers as I press my chest to his back and speak right against his ear, voice filthy and low.
“You shouldn’t want this, Drew. I’m the man who raised you. Yet here you are, ass up and whimpering for me to ruin you again. Such a bad fucking boy.”
Andrew’s breath stutters. He starts begging almost immediately, voice shaky and needy. “Please, Slade… I need it. I want you inside me. Please …”
I cut him off with a dark chuckle, pressing two slick fingers against his hole but not pushing in yet, just teasing the rim with slow, circling strokes.
“That’s cute, baby, but that’s not begging.
That’s just words. I want to hear you really beg for it.
Tell me exactly how badly you need your stepdad to split this tight little hole open and fuck you like you deserve it.
Make it good, or I’ll keep you right here aching until you learn how to ask properly. ”
Andrew whimpers again, hips twitching helplessly under my hands, already trying to push back against my fingers as the filthy words sink in.
His voice cracks open, raw and desperate, the words tumbling out in a filthy, submissive rush that goes straight to my cock.
“Please, Slade… I need your dick so bad. I’ll be so good for you, I swear.
I’ll do anything you want. Just fuck me…
please. I’ll stop talking about moving out, I promise.
If you put it in me right now… I won’t even look at another rental ad, I’ll stay right here where you can use me whenever you need. This hole is yours, Daddy. Please…”
The word “Daddy” slips out of him like it’s been waiting, and it nearly undoes me.
I reward him with one slow finger, sliding it into his still-slick hole with deliberate care, curling it just the way I know he likes.
Andrew moans loud and broken, pushing back onto it, but then he shakes his head frantically against the pillow.
“No… no, not your fingers,” he gasps, voice wrecked. “I don’t want your fingers, Slade. I want your cock. Please, I need you to fuck me properly. I’m so empty without it…”
I grin and lean down, nipping sharply at the sensitive spot along his ribs while I add a second finger, stretching him wider.
I don’t speak. I just let him feel it… the slow, relentless scissoring, the way I curl and stroke and open him up while I drink in every desperate sound and twitch of his body .
Andrew’s begging turns frantic, the words pouring out faster, filthier, more broken.
“You can use me anytime you want,” he whines, hips rolling helplessly.
“This hole is yours now, Slade. You can fuck it whenever you’re hard, whenever you’re stressed, whenever you feel like it.
I’ll keep it ready for you. I’ll sleep with a plug in if you tell me to.
Just please… please stop teasing and give me your cock. ”
I pull my fingers out with a wet sound and sit back on my heels, voice rough and dark. “Oh yeah? This is mine now, huh?”
Andrew whimpers and nods so hard the pillow shifts beneath his cheek.
I shove my boxers down just enough to free my cock, thick and heavy and leaking at the tip. I slap it once, twice, right against his slick, fluttering hole, letting him feel the weight and heat of it. “This what you want?”
Andrew moans loud, shameless, the sound echoing off the bedroom walls. “Oh God, yes! Please, Slade… please fuck me!”
I line myself up, the blunt head of my cock pressing right against his entrance, and start to push forward, slow and relentless, watching the way his tight ring stretches around me.
He whimpers instantly, the sound raw and trembling, caught somewhere between pain and desperate need.
The burn will always be there at the beginning, no matter how much lube I use, and I feel it in the way his body fights me for half a second before it starts to give.
I don’t thrust hard. I just rock into him in shallow, steady rolls of my hips, feeding him another inch at a time while I stay sitting upright on my knees, completely mesmerized by the sight.
I’ve never slept with another guy before Andrew.
Last week the tension between us had finally snapped, my anger at his constant fuck-ups needing an outlet, so I turned it into punishment.
But this morning… this feels different. This feels like a reward.
For the way he’s been behaving. For the college leaflets spread across the kitchen table.
For him finally deciding he wants to be better, to take his future seriously instead of throwing it away.
And damn if his body doesn’t feel right…
hot, velvety, and so fucking tight it makes my head spin.
Every slow rock deeper sends a fresh wave of pleasure rolling up my spine.
Andrew’s moans grow louder, shameless, pouring out of him without any attempt to muffle them now.
They’re absolutely perfect… broken, needy, and so full of surrender that something warm and possessive settles deep in my chest. I keep rocking into him, watching the way his back arches and his fingers twist in the sheets, completely lost in the sight and sound of him falling apart beneath me.
I feel so content right now it almost scares me.
I settle into a steady rhythm, hips rolling forward in deep, measured thrusts that drag my cock along every tight inch of him.
The wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin fills the quiet bedroom, mixing with the low, guttural groans that keep ripping out of my chest. I can’t hold them back. Not when he feels this good.
“Take it…” I growl, voice rough and wrecked as I drive in again, bottoming out with a heavy slap. “That’s it… fuck , just like that. You’re taking me so well.”
Andrew moans louder, shameless and perfect, and the praise only makes him clench tighter around me. I keep going, one hand braced beside his head, the other gripping his hip hard enough to leave marks. “Good boy… such a good fucking boy for me. Look at you, opening up so pretty.”
A few minutes later, a loud knock echoes from the front door downstairs. I don’t stop. I keep pounding into him, deep and relentless, and lean down to growl against the back of his neck, “Ignore it, baby.”
Andrew nods frantically into the pillow and pushes back onto me harder, chasing every thrust like he needs it more than air.
The knock comes again, sharper this time.
He lets out a soft, frustrated sigh. I pause mid-stroke and drop my forehead between his shoulder blades, breathing hard. “For fuck’s sake…”
I stay here for a second, cock throbbing inside him, unwilling to move. “Maybe they’ll go away.”
Andrew juts his ass back a little more, deliberately grinding onto me, and the heat of it drags a deep groan from my throat. “Fuck… I really don’t wanna move right now,” I mutter, voice strained .
The knocking comes again… three sharp raps that sound impatient. My annoyance spikes.
I grab the base of my cock and pull out reluctantly, the sudden loss of his tight heat making me hiss through my teeth. Goddamn, this better be good. I lean down and press a quick, possessive kiss to the curve of his ass, right where my teeth had left marks earlier.
“Be right back,” I rasp.
Andrew nods, still face-down in the pillow, voice muffled but soft. “Okay.”