Chapter 3 #6
“You say things like let’s forget the condom and offer me your virgin asshole with nothing between us, while at the same time making plans to leave me. Do you get how infuriating you are? How one might be compelled to throttle you, then tie you up?”
I was really trying to make sense of what he was saying, and I heard the words, but dear God in heaven, his fingers were…were…his fingers…
“Are you listening to me?”
I pushed back as he curled his middle finger forward and dragged it across my gland. “Oh fuck,” I groaned, and it was guttural, gravelly, my body erupting in goose bumps as I flushed with a chill.
“I have a test done every six months, so I know there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I had to have one done four months ago for a dude ranch I was working on, and it all came back negative.”
“Because you’ve always used a condom.”
“Yes, Cy, I swear.” I moaned because he’d added a third finger to my ass.
“Feel good?”
“Oh fuck yeah,” I whispered as he pushed his fingers into me, stroking deep. I was suddenly having trouble breathing.
There was more lube. I felt the chill of it and the slide, and then he reached under me for my throbbing, leaking cock, his fingers tugging, fondling, twisting, pushing gently at the slit, rubbing the pulsing head, making me buck under him.
“I wish you could see yourself trust me, open for me… Weber…this is so honest, your need right now…you’re breaking my heart.”
“Fuck me,” I begged him. “Please, God, just do it.”
“I’ve never been with anyone without a condom. Only you, now, because I trust you completely, have since the beginning. I know your heart, and you’re a good man, and you would never lie to me.”
Three years between us, three years of trust that had been built on.
“In this respect, I am,” I promised him. “It will only ever be you, I promise.”
“You’re making a vow here, Web,” he said, easing his fingers from my stretched, lube-slicked hole.
I needed him. I craved the feeling of fullness, the line between pleasure and pain, the overwhelming desire to be taken and used.
“This is going to change everything,” he assured me, shoving me facedown into the comforter, lifting my ass high with his other hand, grabbing my hip, the hold almost painful. “And there’s no going back.”
I should have been terrified, but all I could do was fist my hands in the material as I felt his mouth on the small of my back.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” I trembled under him.
“Only me?” he asked gently.
I nodded.
“Tell me,” he demanded, and the power of his voice, how insistent he was, the weight of his words, rolled right through me and made me shudder.
“Just you,” I barely managed to get out, grabbing hold of my heavy, dripping cock, stroking myself.
“You trust me not to hurt you, never to hurt you.”
“Yes,” I said huskily, my voice going out on me.
“Remember that,” he said, his hands on my ass cheeks spreading me roughly, the head of his cock pressing against my furled entrance.
The thought of what he was about to do had consumed me since the last time I saw him.
We had been so close that time. I had been on the verge of begging him to have me, but I saw it in his face when he looked at me, in his gaze, the love, the possessiveness, the overwhelming need for me to stay.
And then as the time wound down and I had to leave, he was so angry, so frustrated, that by the time I was ready to talk to him, to voice my deepest desire, I simply couldn’t.
It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt on his face, so I’d kept my desire to myself.
But now he was claiming me, taking what he wanted, and I didn’t care, couldn’t be made to. It felt right, and I had no idea why.
“You’re mine now,” he said, and because of that, because of his very last word, because I myself knew better, I should have said wait. I should have said no, but all that passed my lips was please.
Please.
And then as he pressed inside me, “Oh God, Cyrus, please!”
But it changed so fast, started to hurt, and I wanted to take it back, scream at him to stop, because the pain built and burned and stung.
I was full, so full, and stretched, and it was just too much.
And then…he stopped. His hands were stroking over my back, my sides, there were open-mouthed kisses down my spine, and everything relaxed.
“You feel so good,” he murmured, hand stroking over my length as he moved slowly, gently, forward a fraction and then easing back, his hot mouth on the side of my neck eliciting a low, garbled moan.
I wanted him, and my body stopped fighting the invasion and embraced it.
When he pressed in deeper, then slid nearly free, I begged him for harder and faster.
“You sure?” he whispered.
“Yes, Cy, I’m sure,” I barely got out, trying to lift higher, to have more of him.
He pushed me down, and his movements went from gentle and seductive to power and dominance, and God it was hot.
He pulled back, changed his angle, and rammed in deep and hard.
I roared his name. Until that moment, I had no idea that all my yearning, all the pressure and pain and everything else just needed Cy inside me to finally be released.
Knowing I wasn’t in control, that it was all him, freed me like nothing ever had.
The surrender was absolute, overwhelming, devouring bliss.
“Cy!” I gasped, lost in the undertow.
He lifted my hand to my dick, reminding me of what I should have been doing, and I took direction, squeezing and tugging, the two sensations at once all-encompassing.
“You’re so tight, so hot. You need to come, baby, because feeling you, looking at you, I’m not… Oh God, please, Weber.”
The last was spoken so softly, so gently, so full of tenderness but also wanting, and with great urgency, that my body flushed with heat.
“You’re so mine, so mine,” he chanted, and I felt him swell inside my slick, clenching channel, felt his hand on the small of my back pushing me down, holding me still, the other clutching my hip as he thrust into me, over and over, relentless and hammering as I writhed under him. “Web!”
My body tightened, balls, muscles, everything squeezing at once, and I spurted onto the comforter, shuddering with my roaring climax as Cy fucked me through it.
When he collapsed on top of me, twitching with the last of his orgasm, I was finally able to breathe.
Even his added weight was of no consideration.
Never in my life had I been filled with cum, felt it hot and slick inside me as well as sliding down the inside of my thighs in sticky, slippery rivulets.
It felt like being branded, and the smell of it, of sex and sweat mixed together, was intoxicating.
The urge to get up and run away was as powerful as the one to roll over and pull the man into my arms. I was terrified and sated and sore and joyful. What the hell?
He eased out of me slowly, carefully, and then was gone.
The door opened and closed, and I was left alone in the room that was rapidly cooling.
I couldn’t get my muscles to unclench enough to lie down, and I didn’t want to drop onto splattered semen, so I just stayed there, frozen, until I had feeling in my thighs again.
The door opened, I felt the cool air from the hall, and then he was there, chuckling and crooning. “Good, you didn’t move.”
“I can’t move. My muscles are locked.”
“That’s because your whole body tightened all at once.” He kissed my back, between my shoulder blades, then the base of my spine. “You felt so good. Jesus, Weber, you were amazing.”
I grunted as his hands, as warm as the washcloth, slid over my sensitized skin.
“You were,” he told me, his touch reverent, gentle, tender as he cleaned my ass and the inside of my quivering thighs.
I moved then, crawled forward and collapsed down onto the pillow as I heard him rubbing at the comforter.
“Sorry.”
“That’s what a washing machine is for,” he soothed me. “I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning. My mother will never be the wiser.”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“And I wouldn’t change any part of what we just did, so get over it.”
I groaned. “I had no idea you could fuck like that. Why didn’t you ever—”
“No,” he cut me off, falling onto the bed beside me, abandoning his cleanup to curl around me. “That was so not fucking in any way, and don’t even try and play it off like it was.”
I rolled away from him, unable to meet his gaze.
He crawled over me, flopped down hard so we were face-to-face again, and put a hand on my cheek.
“I made love to you, Weber Yates, and do you know why?” When I groaned, he started to laugh, but then he sobered.
“Because I love you.” He exhaled deeply, his eyes softening, filling but not spilling over, and they were gorgeous and wet, and the man was just altogether breathtaking.
“Goddammit, why you wanna go and—”
“Shut up,” he said, his smile luminous through his tears.
“Cy…”
“Just say it,” he prodded, his breath choppy as he stared into my eyes.
“Why? It won’t change nothin’.”
“I think it will, and I need to hear it already.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
“I love you, Weber Yates, so much, so completely. I—”
“Jesus Christ, Cy! You know I love you,” I snapped at him irritably. “That’s not the problem! It’s never been the problem! We just—”
“Oh,” he gasped and cut me off with a kiss, arms wrapping around my neck, left leg sliding over my thigh, chests plastered together and his lips sliding, fitting perfectly like they always had, his mouth and body molding to mine seamlessly, effortlessly.
I broke away from him, ending the kiss, but he held on, keeping me there, holding me so our lips hovered close. “You ain’t listenin’ to me.”
“No, you’re not listening to yourself. As usual. You really are such an ass.”
“Cy…”
“Did I hurt you?”
“What?” I was confused.
“When I was inside you, did I hurt you?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me! What the hell kind of ques—”
“Because I have to tell you that I can’t wait to do that again.” He shivered. “Watching my cock slide into your beautiful—”
“Oh God, can we not talk about this, please?”
“Seeing you dripping with me was like—”
“I will seriously end you,” I growled even as he wriggled closer, the arms around my neck tightening as he whimpered in the back of his throat. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, baby,” he said, eyes on my mouth, all semblance of concentration gone. “I heard you. I heard you begging and whining and—”
I kissed him to shut him up, and he met me eagerly with an open mouth, his tongue tangling with mine as he rolled on top of me and pinned me to the bed.
“You’ve never been so aggressive before,” I told him, panting, when he let me breathe.
“I never knew you belonged to me before.”
And I would have argued, but the way he was kissing me, the feel of his hands, the heat of his skin…all I wanted to do was surrender.
So for once, I did.