12. Anders
TWELVE
ANDERS
His ass is the tightest I’ve ever experienced. It’s taking every ounce of my restraint not to pull out and slam back into him, because my balls are so tight and full, I feel like I’m going to explode.
It’s been over a year since I had sex, and longer than that since I fucked a man, but this doesn’t feel like anything I’ve ever experienced before. Henry’s slim legs are wrapped around me, his hands holding my wrists, like he needs to touch me but doesn’t know where or how.
His innocence, instead of being a turn-off, is intoxicating.
Knowing that I’m the only person who has touched him like this, the only person to know how it feels to have his body gripping my dick so hard, feels important.
I took his virginity. My first time with a man or a woman wasn’t life-changing, but for him it will be.
I won’t be able to let him go after this. I won’t be capable or reasonable enough to give him up, even if he begs me. Because whatever force it was that brought him into my life did it for a reason.
Maybe he needs me, maybe I need him. Either way, we’re the perfect fit, two sides to a coin. He’s mine and I’m his, and nothing will ever change that. Not ever.
My dick is screaming at me to move, but I refuse to hurt him.
It’s why I spent almost a goddamn hour playing with his tight virgin hole, stretching him, teasing him, and making him come, so that when I finally got inside of him, he’d be so full of serotonin that he’d love every moment of being fucked by me.
Slowly, experimentally, I roll my hips, pulling out an inch, then gently pushing back into him again. His hole is pulsing, gripping me so tightly, it’s a miracle I haven’t come yet. It’s sheer grit and determination that I’m holding on to a thread of sanity, but I won’t be coming before he does.
Scanning his face for any sign of pain, I start a slow, steady grind, thrusting my cock into him in shallow, gentle movements.
“More,” he pants, his eyes comically wide as he bears down on me, forcing me deeper into him.
“More?” I question, taunting him as I pull my hips back but don’t push forward, not giving him what he’s demanding.
Sucking in air through his nose, his expression turns frantic, then pleading. “Please, Anders, please. I’ll be good.”
It’s the last word that gets to me, because he’s always good, my good boy, my good kitten. Mine. Collaring his throat, I thrust into him, not hard, but with more force than I used up until now.
A low keening noise pours from his mouth, and his head rolls back. There’s nothing provocative about his actions, but his behavior is innocent, guileless, and utterly, utterly submissive.
Something inside of me snaps at his gift and I take over, gripping his throat as I use his body like my own personal sex toy.
I fuck him hard and slow, then fast, alternating as I keep him on the edge of release.
Gripping his cock in my fist, I stop him from coming, refusing to allow him any release, controlling his body like it’s mine to command.
And it is. Henry is mine. I know it, and he knows it too. The more I take, the more he gives. He’s perfection, utter, utter perfection.
“Please, please, please.” His moans turn into chanting begs, and I take pity on him, softening my grip on his dick and jerking him in rhythm with my thrusts into his tight ass.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, long and low, as the first spurt of cum bursts from the head of his rock-solid cock.
The sight of his release brings my own closer to the surface, and I lose control, slamming my dick into him in long, deep thrusts.
Pulling almost all the way out, I force my way back inside of him, finding his prostate and milking fresh surges of cum from his dripping cock with each drive of my body into his.
“Mine,” I growl. “Going to fill your tight ass with my cum. Mine.” I sound like a fucking caveman because I feel like one. I’ve never experienced this fundamental need to brand someone, but that’s what I feel driven and compelled to do with him. I need to fill him with my cum and mark him as mine.
His hole grips me, tightening around my dick until my vision turns black, and I lose control, slamming into him until my groin is pressed against his ass and I explode, pumping spurt after spurt of cum inside of him and making him mine.
Only the sounds of our rasping breaths fill the room by the time I finish coming. We’re both perfectly disheveled, a sheen of sweat coating our skin as the scent of sex hangs heavily in the air.
“You didn’t use a condom,” Henry whispers, his voice raspy.
“I’m clean. It’s been over a year since I last had sex, and we have regular six-month testing done as part of our physicals for work.”
“I’m clean too,” he says, his cheeks heating, like he’s embarrassed.
“I know, Kitten,” I assure him, smiling at his adorable blush.
Looking down at my perfect boy, I sigh happily. In an ideal world, I’d keep him like this, pinned beneath me, full of my cock and dripping my cum. But I can’t, at least not this time. I took his virginity, and no matter how much time I spent stretching and prepping him, he’s going to be sore.
Reluctantly, I let my dick slip out of his ass, watching the way his gaped hole twitches. A mixture of lube and my cum starts to drip from inside of him the moment my cock isn’t there to keep him plugged and full.
“Jesus, Boy,” I rasp, trying and failing to hide the authoritarian tone from my voice.
“Is that…am I…was that?” Henry stumbles over his words, insecurity clear in his awkward question.
“I fucking love seeing you full of me,” I tell him. “You were perfect, so perfect. I want you again already.”
“Okay,” he says quietly.
Chuckling, I reluctantly lift my gaze from his hole to his face. “Are you sore?”
“Not too sore.”
He’s so embarrassed, his whole face is beet red. He may not realize it, but his innocence is one of his most endearing qualities, even though I intend to thoroughly enjoy corrupting him.
“Oh, Kitten,” I coo, grinning. “You’re fucking adorable.”
His brows furrow, and his lips pull down into a frown. “You don’t want me now?” he asks, his lips quivering.
“Weren’t you listening? You’re mine, Henry.
You were before, but now that I know how tightly your ass grips my dick, I’ve claimed you completely.
I doubt there will ever be a moment when I don’t want you.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever allow myself to hurt you.
Unless you were lying to me, that was your first time. Correct?” I ask.
He nods.
“So, no matter how much I wish I could spend the rest of the night buried inside of you, you’re going to be sore, and so we’re both going to have to wait until I fuck you again,” I tell him, keeping my tone stern so he doesn’t try to argue with me.
I’ve fucked subs in the past who wanted to be used over and over.
Those were the ones who treated rough sex like a punishment and a gift all at the same time.
But I’m not a sadist. I want sex to be all pleasure, and I won’t fuck him again until I’m confident that I’m not going to hurt him.
“Oh,” he says quietly, his eyes wide.
Taking a moment, I run my eyes over his naked form, enjoying the way he’s sprawled across my bed, his knees still bent, leaving his soft, wet dick, balls, and hole on display for me, letting me watch as my cum slowly seeps out of him.
He looks like a depraved version of a painting, his skin perfect marble, his beauty the type that would inspire an artist to pick up a paintbrush and memorialize the moment.
I doubt the Henry of only days ago would have laid on my bed, blatantly naked, sweaty, covered in cum, and thoroughly used, without an ounce of concern, but now he’s mine, perfectly corrupted in every way.
“I should clean you up, but I like knowing you’re full of my cum,” I praise.
“Okay,” he agrees easily.
Smiling, I lean over him and cup his cheek, pressing my lips to his and kissing him softly. “Thank you,” I whisper against his mouth.
“What for?” he questions.
“For giving me you. I was taking you anyway, but knowing that you gifted me you and that you trusted me to take care of you, means the world to me. I’ve fallen for you, Kitten. I’ll never let you go.”
I feel rather than hear his sharp inhale of breath against my lips. Pulling back, I look at him, scanning his face as I try to understand what part of what I just told him was surprising.
“What is it, Kitten?”
“I…” His voice melts into silence as he looks at me like I’ve done something momentous, not taken ownership of his life without really giving him much of a choice.
“I won’t let you run,” I rasp, not intending for my statement to sound like a threat, even though that’s how it ends up coming out.
“I’m not running,” he finally whispers.
Slamming my lips to his, I seal his promise with a kiss, swallowing anything else he’d planned to say, as I reach between us and grab his hard cock. Chuckling to myself, I work my fist up and down his length, jerking him hard and fast, determined to make him come as quickly as possible.
The moment his dick starts to twitch, I rip our mouths apart. “Come for me, Boy. I want to watch your dick explode.”
His pupils are dilated, his chest heaving up and down as the first drop of cum spills from the head of his cock.
More cum follows until my fist and his belly are once again wet with his release.
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s come tonight, enough that it reminds me just how much younger than me he is.
I feel like an old man in comparison. My own dick is still recovering from blowing my load in his tight ass, and yet his has barely softened after coming at least five or six times in the last hour.
For the first time in days, doubt fills my mind.
This boy, my boy, is twenty-two, barely an adult.
Since the day we met, I’ve ordered him around, used his body like it’s mine to direct, and even started to condition his behavior.
He’s gone along with everything I’ve done, and I’m not sure if that’s because this is what he wants or because I’ve barely given him a choice with the way I’ve pursued him.
Have I fallen for him, or am I grooming him to behave the way I want him to?
Fuck.
No. No, I’m not doing to him what I did to Gabe. I haven’t moved him in—even though the idea of him living in that tiny basement storage room makes me feel ill. I haven’t told him to give up his job or insisted that I can take care of him and that all he needs is me.
I haven’t given him unreasonable rules or ever done anything that he hasn’t been one hundred percent onboard with. But didn’t I feel the same with my relationship with Gabe? Until he told me how unhappy, how stifled, and how abused he felt, I had no idea that I was even doing anything wrong.
I’ve been to therapy. I’m self-aware. I know how to balance being a Dom and being a boyfriend. Henry might be young, but he’s an adult who has been on his own for years. I’m not taking advantage of him.
Despite my silent assurances, doubt still squirms uncomfortably in my gut.
Taking care of Henry and making sure he’s happy and healthy and cared for is my only priority.
So instead of spreading his legs wide and slamming my cock back into him, I slowly release my hold on his cock and shuffle down the bed, standing and heading for the bathroom without looking back.