Hunter #2
The feeling is overwhelming. He’s burning hot inside, gripping me like a vice, every tiny shift and flutter of his body sending sparks up my spine.
I’m buried to the hilt, surrounded by tight, silky heat, and the sight of him—flushed, trembling, impaled on me—is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Charlie lets out a shaky exhale and rocks forward experimentally. The movement drags me along his walls and pulls a guttural moan from both of us.
“Oh my God,” he breathes, eyes rolling back for a second. “You’re so deep like this.”
He starts to move; slow, rolling grinds at first, finding the angle that makes his breath hitch.
Every downward slide is torture and bliss.
I keep my hands on his hips, thumbs stroking the crests of his hipbones, but I don’t thrust up.
I let him set the pace completely. This is for him.
He needs the control, and I’m more than happy to give it.
Charlie’s head falls back as he finds his rhythm. His hips roll in smooth, filthy circles, taking me deep every time. The wet sound of lube and skin fills the room, obscene and perfect. His cock bounces against my stomach with every movement, leaving shiny streaks of precum on my skin.
“Look at you,” I rasp, voice raw. “So fucking gorgeous riding me. Taking every inch like you were made for it.”
A broken moan spills from his lips. He leans forward, bracing both hands on my chest, and starts fucking himself harder—faster—chasing the angle that makes his thighs shake. Sweat beads on his collarbones. His curls are wild, sticking to his forehead. He looks ruined and perfect.
“Hunter—fuck—right there—” he gasps when he finds the spot.
I keep one hand on his hip and wrap the other around his cock, stroking him in time with his movements. “That’s it, baby. Use me. Take what you need.”
Charlie’s rhythm turns desperate. He’s riding me hard now, hips snapping down, ass clenching around me on every upstroke. The tight heat, the slick slide, the sight of him falling apart on top of me, it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“I’m close,” he whimpers, voice cracking. “Hunter, I’m so close—”
“Come on,” I growl, thumb swiping over the head of his cock. “Let me feel you. Come for me, Charlie.”
He cries out, body locking up as he comes hard across my stomach and chest in thick stripes. His ass clenches rhythmically around me, pulsing, milking me so perfectly that I lose it right after him. I groan his name, hips jerking up once, twice, filling him deep while he rides out the aftershocks.
Charlie collapses onto my chest, trembling, face buried in my neck.
I wrap both arms around him immediately, holding him close, stroking his back in long, soothing sweeps while we both try to catch our breath.
He’s still clenching around me in little aftershocks, and I’m still buried inside him, but neither of us moves to separate.
“You okay?” I whisper, pressing kisses to his temple, his damp hair, anywhere I can reach.
He nods against my skin, voice hoarse. “Perfect. That was…perfect.”
I smile into his hair and hold him tighter. Sofia eventually jumps onto the bed and curls up at our feet like she approves of the whole situation. Charlie lets out a soft, tired laugh when she starts purring.
We stay like that for a long time—tangled, sticky, breathing each other in. My hand keeps stroking his back in slow, lazy patterns while his fingers trace idle shapes on my chest.
Eventually, he shifts with a little groan, lifting his head to look at me. His eyes are soft, lips still swollen from kissing. He looks thoroughly fucked and so beautiful it hurts.
“We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs.
“I’m not opposed to a little mess,” I say, grinning as I run my thumb along his bottom lip. “Especially when the mess is you.”
He huffs a laugh and leans down to kiss me. When he pulls back, he nips my lip once for good measure.
“Shower,” he decides. “Then bed. I want to fall asleep with you inside me again later.”
The casual way he says it makes my spent cock twitch inside him. Charlie feels it and smirks, clenching around me on purpose.
“Evil,” I groan, hips twitching up instinctively.
“You love it.”
“I really fucking do.”
He carefully lifts off me with a soft hiss, both of us wincing at the loss. I watch as my cum slowly leaks down his thigh, and I have to bite back another groan at the sight. Charlie catches me staring and flushes darker, but there’s pride in his eyes, too.
“Shower,” he repeats, tugging my hand. “Before you get any more ideas.”
The shower is slow and intimate. We take turns washing each other under the warm spray, my hands soaping his chest, his back, the curve of his ass.
Charlie returns the favor, fingers gentle over my scars, tracing every mark like he’s memorizing them.
We kiss lazily under the water, bodies pressed close.
When we finally crawl back into bed, clean and damp, Charlie immediately curls into my side, throwing one leg over mine and tucking his face against my neck. I pull the blanket over us and wrap my arms around him, holding him close.
Sofia jumps up and claims the space behind his knees, purring contentedly.
“You really okay?” I ask quietly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Better than okay,” he whispers. “I feel… safe. With you. Like this.”
Those words settle deep in my chest, warm and solid. I stroke his back again, slow and steady.
“I’m going to keep earning that,” I promise. “Every day.”
Charlie nods against my skin. “I know you will.”
We fall quiet again, just breathing together. His fingers trace lazy circles over my heart, and I can feel his breathing even out as sleep starts to pull him under.
“I love you,” I whisper into his hair, even though I know he’s already drifting.
His voice is sleepy but clear. “Love you, too.”
For the first time in years, I fall asleep with a smile on my face and the man I love safe in my arms.
This is what healing feels like.
This is what home feels like.