23. Orion #4
There’s so much sensation I can hardly stand it.
Hardly take it.
Hardly imagine how I ever lived without it.
He draws back until there’s almost none of him left inside me, and I wail from the loss.
“Deep breath now, O. Okay, bud?” I nod frantically to ensure he sees my enthusiastic consent. “I’m going deep with the next one.”
The words have barely left his lips when his cock slams into me. I see stars. A black night sky and fireworks exploding. Snow white. Pale pink. Blinding flares of gold rip across my field of vision.
Jordan fucks into me like it’s normal for someone to feel what I’m feeling.
Like it’s normal to be so wracked by good things that my entire body has frozen.
Like it’s survivable. My joints are locked.
My mind has shut down. The only thing living, the only thing in existence, is the fat, swollen cock in my hole.
He fucks me until I forget he’s my friend. Until I forget he’s doing me a favor. Until it feels like neither of us is in this realm. This world. This bed. We’ve been transported to the parallel place where he and I exist together.
It’s lovely where we are. Floaty and surreal. So fucking beautiful that tears run down my cheeks when he plows into me, and I don’t try to stop them.
All too soon he pulls out, leaving my asshole dazed and clenching uselessly around nothing.
“Flip over,” he pants. “I was getting too close.”
I wipe my eyes quickly and don’t roll over so much as I don’t offer any resistance when Jordan manhandles me onto my back.
My legs fall open limply, spread as wide as I can get them, knees all but at my ears, as he kneels between them.
He looks the same as he always does, and he looks like nothing I’ve ever seen.
The burned-paper smile simmers as a friend looks down at me.
Blazing heat pours from the eyes of a stranger.
A hot, demented stranger with his hair in his face.
His abs clenched. His bottom lip pinned tightly between his teeth.
His raging erection twitching and straining against the confines of the condom between his legs.
I mean to wait patiently for him to enter me again, but my hands don’t get the memo. I grab at him, clawing for any part of him I can reach, as I frantically pull him down on top of me. His cock finds my opening and burrows into it. Filling me completely with a single, earth-shattering shove.
It feels different in this position. Closer.
More intense. The tattered threads of the cloak keeping me together fray and give way.
I forget that there’s anything I don’t want Jordan to know.
I forget what I’m hiding, or why. I forget to be quiet, and I forget everything that doesn’t exist in this moment.
My body moves of its own accord. Hips bucking wildly, desperate to get closer to him. Desperate to take him deeper. Desperate, desperate, desperate for more of the man moving inside me.
I don’t know how long we fuck. Feels like forever. Feels like it won’t ever end. Feels like it’s bigger than me, and then, like that, it is bigger than me. It’s bigger than my skin or my bones. Bigger than my body and the alternate universe I’ve built for Jordan and me.
Pleasure swells. My hand curls around my dick and starts stroking.
Precum leaks from me in thick, steady streams.
It’s all good. All good. All good.
Then it’s out of this world.
The room goes dark and the vortex sucks me in. I spin around and around, my skin exposed to open flames and my bones electrified. I tremble and shake, my ass fluttering around the thick cock battering me open.
There’s a quick lull.
A short moment of peace.
Then all heaven breaks loose.
I’m tossed into the air. High. So high I might not even be on the planet anymore. I’m spun around. Around and around. Doused in pleasure. Drowned in it.
Killed.
Dead.
Living.
Alive.
Alive in a way I’ve never been. A way that matters and keeps going until Jordan loses his stride and pulls out of me. He rips the condom off and drops it onto the floor next to the bed.
He looks wrecked.
Fucked.
His eyes are dull, tracking slowly until they find mine and lock there.
He holds himself up over me on his knees and one arm and uses his free hand to jack himself off.
His hand moves fast. Powerfully. Brutally male.
He clenches his jaw, clamping his teeth together.
The sinews in his neck strain and color swims up the upper quadrant of his body.
His hair is a mess. Matted and knotted. He’s covered in sweat and his face is a mask. A wild, animalistic grimace with flared nostrils and too many teeth.
In all my days, all my life, I’ve never seen anything I love more.
I reach up, watching my hand float through the air with a disjointed sort of amazement, and cup his cheek even though it’s the exact kind of gesture I’ve always explicitly forbidden myself from making.
His hand moves between his legs.
Up.
Down.
Hard.
Harder.
At the last second, he turns his face, dipping his head, leaning his cheek into my touch, and roars as he comes.