Chapter 19 #2
“God, Beckett,” I gasped as his tongue breached the tight muscle, each movement sending electricity through my body.
The physical pleasure was intense, but what made it transformative was knowing it was him—that after all this time, this wasn’t performance but desire.
This moment I’d imagined countless times was finally happening, with no cameras—just us.
Beckett showcased his natural talent as his spit and tongue worked me open, his finger soon slipping in alongside his tongue.
That initial stretch always sent electricity through me—the sweet burn as my body yielded, surrendering to pleasure.
Nothing compared to those first moments of giving in.
And knowing it was Beckett’s tongue working me open, preparing me for what would come next—the intimacy of that choice made everything more intense.
My hips bucked involuntarily when he deepened his movements, adding another finger alongside his tongue. I found myself pressing upward, desperate for more contact, surrendering completely to the pleasure he offered. With him—with them—I could abandon all restraint.
“Right there, oh, fuck,” I gasped, my fingers digging into the comforter until the fabric threatened to tear beneath my grip. “Please fuck me, Beckett.”
Beckett’s mouth withdrew, leaving a cooling trail of wetness, while his fingers continued their relentless rhythm inside me. “I’m going to keep working you open and get you ready for me, Theo. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to use our first time together to show you how much I love you.”
I couldn’t be mad at that.
I pointed to the nightstand. “Lube.” I tried to form a coherent sentence, but it got the point across.
His mouth sealed over my hole and the sudden suction made my thoughts scatter, my ability to speak dissolving into a gasp that filled the room.
When he finally pulled away to reach for the bottle in the drawer, I felt the cool air against my wet skin like a shock.
He spread me open again, his gaze lingering with an intensity that left me exposed, defenseless against whatever was running through his mind. “Fuck, your hole is so pretty. And all mine.”
He coated three fingers with lube before pressing them inside me, my body arching to meet each thrust. I welcomed the stretch, my muscles yielding easily—a benefit of regular preparation that came with my line of work.
Lately I’d been training myself to accommodate more, knowing that soon I’d need to be ready for both him and Asher together.
When his fingers curled inside me, they found that perfect spot with devastating accuracy. My body arched off the bed, suspended in the electric current of pleasure.
“If you keep doing that,” I gasped, “this will be over before it begins.”
He knew I was fully capable of having a prostate orgasm fairly easily.
Coming now wouldn’t be the worst thing—I could get there again—but something in me wanted to save it, to feel him deep inside when I finally let go. I wanted to clench around him when it happened, wanted him to feel what it was like when my body pulled every last drop from him.
He eased the pressure from that spot inside me, and I sank back against the mattress, catching my breath.
“Don’t want that yet. I need you to come when I’m inside you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my inner thigh in a trail of feather-light kisses. Our desires aligned perfectly in that moment—no words were needed between us to understand what we both craved.
“Then get inside me, baby. I need it so badly,” I pleaded.
I swore I heard a whine come from myself. I didn’t doubt it. I had waited way too long for this moment and refused to wait any longer, and I wasn’t afraid of begging for what I wanted.
Beckett stood and set my legs down. “Middle of the bed,” he directed. I obeyed, moving to the middle of the mattress and instinctively rolling onto my stomach, assuming the position I was accustomed to. “Wait,” his voice stopped me. “I want to see you.”
I hesitated, meeting his gaze over my shoulder. “Face-to-face?”
He nodded, and I turned onto my back, feeling strangely vulnerable as he climbed onto the bed. The mattress sank beneath his weight as he positioned himself between my thighs, his hands braced on either side of me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the heat where our bodies met. His hardness slid against me, teasing. My fingers found purchase on his arms, clutching at muscle as if for stability. Despite all my experience, my heart hammered wildly—this wasn’t just another scene, another performance.
This was Beckett.
“I’m not used to this,” I admitted in a whisper, feeling the flush creep up my neck and cheeks.
“I know you prefer to be bent over, but the first time we’re together, I want you facing me.
I want to watch the pleasure in your eyes, and I want you to see exactly what you do to me,” he explained.
He gripped himself, teasing the head of his length against my entrance, letting me feel the heat and weight of him without yet breaching that first ring of resistance.
“And then I’ll take you however you want, every time. ”
My heart was pounding, my hands were sweating against his skin, and he hadn’t even pushed inside me yet.
I needed this moment to shatter him beautifully—to make him understand that the three of us completed something that had always been unfinished. The final piece of our puzzle clicking into place.
Beckett’s eyes locked with mine, searching, until something in my expression must have reassured him.
He pressed forward slowly, and I gasped as he breached me.
The stretch was intense—I’d grown accustomed to methodical preparation before hookups, toys and time, not just the hasty work of fingers.
Yet my body yielded to him without resistance, as though recognizing something my conscious mind had always known—this connection was inevitable.
“Holy…” he said, dropping his head until our foreheads touched, our breath mingling, leaning on his forearms so our bodies were close. “You feel better than any dream I ever had about this moment.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest. “You’ve been imagining us together?” I asked in a whisper, afraid to believe it was real.
“Ever since the moment I saw you and Asher together.”
A moan escaped me as his hips pressed flush against my ass. I reached up, one hand tangling in his hair, the other digging into his shoulder, anchoring him to me—keeping him buried deep where I needed him most. The fullness was exquisite, overwhelming in its perfection.
I gasped as he withdrew almost completely, leaving just the tip inside me, then drove forward with deliberate force. Our faces hovered inches apart, our breath mingling in each other’s faces as he grunted and I moaned, overwhelmed by how amazing it felt.
The delicious burn of his size made my breath catch with each movement. My body yielded, but not without resistance, that exquisite edge between pleasure and pain that only comes from the real thing—warm, pulsing, alive inside me in a way no toy could replicate.
“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile, Beckett. Give it to me hard and rough. Give me all of you.”
The last of his reserve seemed to crumble as he lifted his head , once again holding himself up by his hands. “Be careful what you wish for,” he said, smirking. “Put your legs on my shoulders,” he commanded, and I complied, curious what he had in mind.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let someone take me this way, our eyes locked together, nowhere to hide. The vulnerability of it had always terrified me before—the worry about breath, about what expressions might cross my face in those unguarded moments.
But with Beckett, those fears evaporated. All that mattered was watching his pupils dilate, his jaw slacken with each thrust, the visible proof that my body was giving him exactly what he craved.
I wasn’t sure what he’d do, but he quickly answered my question as he pushed forward, folding my body nearly in half, his thighs resting on my ass. The new angle caused his next thrust to hit that sweet spot inside me.
I wanted to push my hips back, but the way he had me pressed into the mattress made it impossible.
“Oh God,” I moaned, my fingers digging into his skin harder, hopefully leaving my mark. “Right there! Please, more.”
“Yeah? Am I hitting your prostate, baby?” he asked, his voice strained.
His hips started snapping harder, sending sparks up my spine.
I loved how he was fucking me into the mattress and I couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t even move.
All I could do was take it. It made me feel like I was there for his pleasure, and that was all I wanted—to be a hole for him to use.
“Yes!” tore from my throat as he slammed into me, the force behind it demanding my surrender, my acknowledgment. “Holy fuck, it’s so good, Beckett. You’re meant to be inside me.”
“Your tight little hole was made for me, Theo. Your body is sucking me in like you don’t want me to ever leave.”
The headboard crashed rhythmically against the wall as I lost control of my voice, fragmenting into desperate sounds I barely recognized as my own.
“I’m…I’m going to come. Fuckfuckfuck,” The words dissolved on my tongue as electric currents of pleasure shot through me, leaving only breathless profanity in their wake.
“Do it, baby. Come for me. Then I’ll fill you up, breed you like you deserve. Maybe make you beg for my come.” Beckett pressed his thumb against my lower lip before pushing it into my mouth, and I sucked on it instinctively.
“Fuck, one day we’re going to fill both of your holes at once. You’d look so good full of us, our come filling you from both ends. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”