Chapter 26 - Felix #3
But I probably should have remembered how big Kit’s dick was.
Absolutely bloody massive.
It towered in front of my face, thick and imposing and fully erect, despite the fact I hadn’t even touched it yet.
Just from having me naked on top of him, apparently.
Dark hair curled around the base, and the sheer size of it made my throat close up with something between want and terror.
It was way, way bigger than my novice-level mouth could probably handle.
Oops.
Kit’s hand stroked down my back, soothing. “Just the tip will be more than enough,” he said softly, reading my panic with embarrassing accuracy. “Any more than that will hurt your lovely jaw. And only if you like it. Can you rest your head on my leg?”
I obeyed, settling the side of my head against the solid warmth of his thigh.
The position felt intimate in a way that I couldn’t fully process.
My hand reached out to grasp his waiting cock, its heaviness warm and real against my palm.
The enormity of what I was about to do should have terrified me, but with Kit’s gentle hands on my skin and his patient breathing beneath me, I felt nothing but safe.
I brought it to my mouth.
The first taste hit me like a shock—salt and something sharp, musky, distinctly Kit.
Heat unfurled low inside me as my tongue lapped at the thick smear of liquid, tracing over the tiny slit just like he always did with me.
The softest skin stretched over steel hardness, the contrast sending me dizzy.
Another experimental lick, swirling around the crown, and Kit groaned, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest and into my bones.
Strong hands gripped my thighs, lifting and positioning me exactly where he wanted. Anticipation coiled tight in my stomach as I waited for that warm mouth to close back around my needy cock.
But Kit had other plans.
Wet heat dragged up my crease—tongue laving me with deliberate strokes.
The breath punched out of my lungs. Again.
And again. Each pass sent shockwaves through my body, leaving me trembling and exposed.
The thundering of my pulse filled the room; there was no way Kit couldn’t hear how he was destroying me.
That tongue began lingering at my hole—barely there at first, ghost-touch pressure, then pressing with clear intent.
Holy fuck. Electric fire shot through my veins.
Kit had never used his mouth there before.
My vision whited out, as my system short-circuited, every nerve ending screaming pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
A broken moan escaped me. Kit’s cock slipped from my lips, forgotten.
Complete mission failure. I’d abandoned my post entirely.
“That’s it,” Kit murmured, voice like gravel, thumb drawing lazy circles on my thigh. “Just rest your head on me now and let go.”
Boneless. That’s what I became—melting into him like heated wax.
This was Kit’s specialty: dismantling me piece by piece, coaxing me into a state of complete surrender where nothing existed except sensation and the warm safety of his hands on my skin.
I pressed deeper into his warm body, desperate to dissolve the boundaries between us, to become one breathing, burning thing.
My hand wrapped around his cock—barely functional, thumb dragging mindlessly along the shaft whenever my brain managed to fire a coherent signal. But thought was dissolving fast.
His tongue circled my rim in torturous loops, each sweep erasing another piece of sanity.
Then pressure—the tip breaching me, just barely, and a gasp tore from my throat.
He retreated, traced the edge again with maddening precision, then pushed deeper, inside of me now, hot and wet and impossibly good.
My grip tightened involuntarily around him and Kit’s groan vibrated against me, working me open with nothing but tongue and dedication, pressing deeper each time until I was grinding against his mouth, drunk on need and sensation.
One hand abandoned my thigh. I collapsed into him, helpless and begging without words.
The soft click of a bottle cap sent sparks straight to my cock.
Kit had used his fingers on me a handful of times now.
The first time, he’d used just one, going so slowly I thought I might die from the gentleness of it.
He’d kissed me through the whole thing, swallowing every gasp and whimper as his finger worked me open with infinite patience.
When he’d found that spot inside me—that sweet cluster of nerves that made stars explode behind my eyelids—I’d cried out against his mouth, my body arching off the bed like I’d been electrocuted.
He’d held me through it, whispering praise against my lips as I fell apart.
The next time, he’d introduced a second finger with the same dedicated care, stretching me slowly until the burn dissolved into pure pleasure.
Cool lube slicked against me—far too much, because Kit never did anything by halves. The excess ran down my skin in cold rivulets, raising goosebumps in its wake.
His tongue had done its work. When that thick finger pressed against me, it glided inside in one brutal stroke. My mouth dropped open, a shattered sound spilling against his thigh as he immediately searched for—
Found it. First try. Fingertip grinding against my prostate with ruthless accuracy.
The scream that tore from me was barely human. Pleasure detonated through every nerve, white-hot and merciless, riding the knife’s edge between ecstasy and overload.
“That’s it,” Kit murmured. “Let me hear you.”
I’d quickly come to understand that Kit thrived on my reactions—the more sounds I made, the more ravenous he became. My gasps were his fuel, each gasp and moan stoking some primal need to worship me completely.
A second finger pressed at my entrance. I sucked in air, bracing for the stretch.
“Okay?”
I managed a nod against his thigh.
Stillness. Patient kisses pressed to my hip as my body adjusted. The burn gradually melted into something richer, more demanding. When I shifted experimentally, Kit understood—fingers sliding in and out with measured strokes before spreading me wider.
“Kit,” I gasped, hips betraying me, grinding back against him. “Please—”
“Please what?” Pure wickedness in his voice.
Words died in my throat. All I could do was arch higher, offering myself completely—body spelling out desperation around his fingers. Obscene didn’t begin to cover it: me spread wide above him like a sacrifice, impaled on his hand while his neglected cock pressed hot against my cheek.
Those fingers curved, found that spot again, and my cry echoed off the walls as pleasure tore through me, violent and consuming. Teetering on the precipice now, the thinnest thread between sanity and complete surrender.
“More.” The word scraped out of me without true meaning—more fingers, more pressure, more everything he’d give me.
Kit’s response was immediate. A third finger joined the others, stretching me so wide my mouth gaped in a soundless scream.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked softly.
The question alone sent molten fire racing through my veins.
“I think so,” I whispered.
Kit’s fingers slid out of me with a soft, wet sound that made me whimper at the loss. Before I could protest, his hands were gently pulling me up and around until I was facing him again. He pressed a tender kiss to my cheek, stroking my hair back from my forehead.
“How do you want this?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing along my jaw. “What position?”
Position? I had no list for this. Over the last few weeks, I’d tried to force myself numerous times to watch porn, but couldn’t make it past the first two seconds without slamming the laptop shut.
“Whatever you want,” I said, voice small.
Kit’s expression softened, and he leaned forward to press gentle kisses along my neck. “Let’s try this,” he murmured finally, guiding me to lie on my side facing away from him. He arranged the pillow carefully under my head. “This way I can hold you properly.”
The lube bottle clicked open. My stomach dropped into free fall, anticipation and terror warring inside me. Then, wet sounds as Kit slicked himself—my pulse thundering so loud it must be drowning out everything else in the room.
“Shh,” he breathed against my ear, arm circling my waist, dragging me back into his warmth. His palm traced lazy circles over my belly, my ribs. “Just breathe for me.”
Impossible. My lungs had forgotten their purpose. This was happening. Actually happening. Kit must have felt me spiralling because he went statue-still, just holding me until the frantic beating in my chest found something resembling rhythm.
When oxygen finally reached my brain again, his hand ghosted down to lift my top leg, opening me to him. That arm stayed locked around me—my lifeline in the storm.
“Remember,” he murmured against my ear, lips barely grazing skin. “Your only job is to relax and enjoy yourself. And tell me how it feels. That’s all.”
I nodded into the pillow as our legs tangled together, Kit settling behind me.
The first blunt pressure at my entrance seized every muscle. Kit froze.
“Easy,” he whispered, mouth soft on my shoulder. “Just me. Just us.”
Forward again—the thick head of him breaching me with torturous care. Fire bloomed where he stretched me, so much more than fingers could prepare me for. Air stuck in my lungs as he pressed deeper, claiming territory one agonizing inch at a time.
“That’s it. Slowly.” Kit kissed a constellation of scattered stars against my neck. “Look at me for a second.”
I craned back to find his face, and the raw tenderness there punched straight through my chest. Like I was made of spun glass—something precious and fragile. His fingers combed through my hair with reverent, careful touches even as he split me apart.
He stretched me past my limits, the pain undeniable, but the reverence in every kiss—temple, cheek, shoulder, anywhere he could reach—made the burn sacred somehow. Intimacy so absolute it flayed me open, our breath tangling as he claimed me.
“I know it hurts,” Kit whispered, “but it’s going to feel so incredible soon.”
I exhaled hard through my nose—the only response I could manage. Kit fell statue-still as his still-slick hand moved to wrap around my cock, stroking me whilst he held position inside me.
“Are you… all the way in?” I managed to whisper.
Kit’s breath shuddered out. “Not quite, sweetheart.” The words sounded torn from him.
Not quite? My brain attempted to calculate the maths and immediately crashed.
His fingers tightened in my hair—not painful, just desperate.
“Believe me, it’s taking everything I have not to just…
” He pressed his mouth against my neck and groaned, his breath hot against my skin.
“There’s no need to rush this,” he murmured, continuing those slow, careful strokes that were steadily rewiring my brain. “We’ve got all night.”
Pain and pleasure warred in my body—the burn of being split open battling the bliss of Kit’s hand coaxing me back to hardness. I clenched my eyes shut, swallowing down the tears that clawed at my throat as my body surrendered, finally softening around the invasion.
Kit’s hand increased its rhythm around my cock, the pain dissolving entirely. A soft whimper slipped free—half relief, half desperate plea. His answering groan rumbled through his chest pressed to my spine.
“More?” Voice like gravel, the barest hint of control.
Another whimper escaped me, pitched higher now. He pressed deeper. The stretch bloomed wider, but that knife-edge of pain was dissolving into fullness that scrambled my thoughts. Learning to yield, to welcome the beautiful destruction of him.
“Good,” Kit whispered into my hair. “So good, Felix.”
I made a soft sound of encouragement, hips shifting against him in invitation. He understood at once.
He took it as permission to claim more. Each inch felt earth-shattering—an eternity of sensation that crashed and rebooted my brain. Kit’s free hand mapped gentle patterns across my ribs, my stomach, anchoring me to reality while everything else spun away.
I felt the exact moment he bottomed out—hips flush against my ass, his breathing fracturing into a low, devastated moan that had my cock pulsing in his grip. Completely buried now, stretching me so wide I forgot how my lungs worked.
“See?” Kit’s voice cracked against my ear, utterly destroyed. “You’re made for me. Made for my cock.” Heat and desperation in every breath. “And now you’re going to lose yourself with me inside you.”
My lips refused to form words. Breathy little gasps were my only reply.
Kit began to move—slow withdrawals that left me aching, followed by careful thrusts that liquefied my spine. Deliberate at first, unhurried. But as my gasps melted into hungry moans, as I started pushing back against him, his restraint began to crack.
Soon he was driving into me with deep, punishing strokes that set the bed singing beneath us. Even as his hips snapped faster, more urgent, his hands stayed worshipful—caressing every inch of skin with infinite tenderness, fingers mapping every curve and hollow.
“Does it feel good now?” Lips ghosting over the shell of my ear.
A shattered moan spilled out of me, my head dropping back to his shoulder. Every cell in my body hummed, pleasure cascading through me, drowning me in waves too deep to surface from, dragging me to warm, endless depths.
“You’re absolutely fucking perfect,” Kit growled, grip tightening around my cock. “Look at you, taking me so well.”
Another sound tore from me—half whimper, half sob.
His words became white noise, that endless stream of praise washing over skin I could barely feel anymore.
Something was unravelling inside me, like falling through space and floating simultaneously.
My consciousness frayed at the edges, reality collapsing until nothing existed but Kit’s body claiming me, filling me, making me his.
The world untethered around me, like I might tumble right through the sheets into infinite darkness, or maybe drift up through the ceiling into the stars.
Kit’s voice became distant, underwater, though his words still vibrated against my throat.
This body wasn’t mine anymore. It belonged to him now, every cell screaming his name.
“Kit, I—” The words shattered as another thrust demolished that sweet spot inside me.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Breathless, wrecked.
But language had abandoned me. Whatever was building alongside the pleasure had no name, no shape. Instead, I reached up to bury my fingers in Kit’s hair and surrendered to the beautiful drowning.