Chapter 17 #5
The possessiveness in the words wasn’t sharp—it was grounding.
I felt it settle into him by the way he relaxed, the way his body opened more, trusting me to hold the reins.
I fucked him deeper, letting my hips snap just a little harder now and then, enough to make him moan, enough to remind him how thoroughly he was being taken.
I shifted again, pulling him onto his knees, chest pressed down to the mattress, ass high. I slid back in from behind, hands firm on his hips, guiding him back onto me. This time, I set a slow, relentless rhythm, driving in deep and holding there before pulling back again.
“Look at you,” I murmured, reverent and filthy all at once. “Taking me like this. Letting me fuck you however I want.”
He pushed back, needy and eager. “I want it. I want all of it.”
I bent over him, chest to his back, one arm wrapping around his torso to keep him grounded while I fucked him deeper, harder, my other hand lacing our fingers together in the sheets.
It wasn’t about breaking him now—it was about holding him right where he was, stretched and open and completely mine.
“You’re doing so good,” I told him, sweet and steady. “You feel incredible. I love the way you give yourself to me.”
I kept moving inside him, slower now but just as deep, chasing every last ounce of heat I could find.
My hand stayed laced with his in the sheets, the other holding him steady as I thrust. Michael pushed back into every stroke, body opening for me, trusting me to take him, to keep him, to fill him the way he needed.
“You’re perfect,” I murmured into his skin, hips starting to stutter. “So fucking perfect, Michael. I’m close—gonna fill you up again, want you leaking with me.”
He shivered, arching his back, taking me deeper, squeezing around my cock. “Do it,” he begged, voice rough, wrecked. “Want to feel you inside. Want to carry it for days.”
That was all it took. I snapped my hips one last time, burying myself to the hilt, cock throbbing as I spilled deep inside him, making sure every drop was claimed. I gasped his name, forehead pressed between his shoulder blades, staying there, letting the waves of release roll through me.
We stilled, breath ragged, sweat pooling between us. I reached down and stroked his cock gently, milking out every last shudder, loving the way he trembled for me.
But I wasn’t finished.
I eased out slowly, savoring the slick, the way my cum started to drip from his hole, thick and hot. I knelt behind him, spreading his cheeks wide, staring in awe at the mess I’d made—at the proof that he was mine.
“Stay just like that,” I whispered, voice thick with hunger.
I bent in and licked him, slow and filthy, dragging my tongue over his hole, tasting myself, tasting him.
I sucked at the rim, groaning as the mix of cum and sweat coated my tongue.
I lapped at every drop, worshipping him, savoring the way he moaned, the way his whole body shook from the aftershocks.
“You taste like us,” I breathed, licking him open again, tongue pushing inside to get every last trace. “You taste like you belong to me.”
He whimpered, legs shaking, hips rocking back, desperate for more even now.
I sat up, cock still hard, cum-slick and aching for another round. I reached for the lube, slicking myself up again, then looked at Michael—beautiful, spent, but eyes still burning.
“My turn,” I said, voice a promise and a plea.
He rolled onto his back, pulling me over him, strong hands guiding me to straddle his hips. I slicked him up, stroking him, making sure he was wet and ready, then lined myself up, pressing down slow, savoring the stretch as I took him inside.
He gripped my hips, helping me sink onto him, both of us gasping at the sudden heat. I rode him, rolling my hips, fucking myself down on his cock, feeling every inch, loving the way he filled me, the way he looked at me—awed and wild and completely undone.
“Use me,” I whispered, breath hot against his mouth. “Want you to fuck me, Michael. Want you to fill me up. Want to be yours.”
He groaned, thrusting up into me, hands roaming over my thighs, my chest, my pits, everywhere he could reach. I rode him harder, faster, letting the lube make it slick, messy, perfect. Sweat and cum mixed between us, bodies tangled and desperate, heat building all over again.
Michael’s grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my skin, grounding me as I moved over him. I rocked harder, chasing every deep thrust, gasping when he started to meet me—driving up into me, letting his strength show.
He was relentless now, sweat slick between us, hands running up my chest to tweak my nipples, his mouth dragging at my jaw, my throat, biting marks that would linger. I ground down, pushing him deeper, moaning as his cock rubbed that spot inside me that made my vision spark white.
“That’s it,” he growled, voice gone rough and wild, every bit the man I’d wanted for so long. “Take it, Daniel. You look so fucking good like this, riding me, opening up for me. You were made for this—made to get bred, filled, used.”
I couldn’t do anything but moan, chasing every thrust, feeling his cock stretch me, open me, owning me in every way I’d ever craved. I braced my hands on his chest, rolling my hips, feeling the slick, sticky mess building between us. I wanted him everywhere—I wanted to be ruined.
“More,” I begged, voice breaking, “Harder. Give me everything. I want to feel you for days.”
Michael answered with his body—thrusting up hard, almost lifting me off the bed, his hands guiding, controlling, urging me to take every inch. He pushed up, pinning me in place with nothing but brute strength and need, sweat dripping from his brow, teeth bared as he fucked me from below.
“You’re mine,” he groaned, hips snapping up, cock slamming in deep. “Mine to fill, mine to mark. I want to see my cum dripping out of you, want to know you’ll feel me inside you every time you sit down tomorrow.”
The filthy promise made me clench down around him, and he snarled, thrusting even deeper, both of us losing the rhythm, just chasing the release. The bed shook with every desperate movement, the air filled with the slap of skin and the wild, half-broken sounds spilling from our mouths.
Michael’s hand found my cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, rough and sure. I was already so close, every nerve ending lit up, pleasure sparking through me as I rode him, taking him over and over.
“I want it,” I panted, voice desperate, “Want you to fill me. Breed me. Please, Michael, come inside me.”
He shuddered, sweat pooling in the hollows of his collarbones, his mouth latching to my nipple, sucking, biting, marking me. His hands clamped down on my ass, driving me down, holding me in place as he fucked up hard, chasing his own edge.
“I’m gonna—fuck—Daniel—”
I slammed down onto him, grinding, grinding, needing everything.
I felt him start to throb inside me, the heat building, the moment stretching between us.
Then he went still, cock buried to the root, and with a hoarse, broken cry, he came—spilling deep, flooding me with heat, filling me so full I could feel it leak out around his cock, slick and obscene.
He held me there, his whole body shaking, his breath hot against my chest, his teeth buried in my skin. I could feel his cum leaking out, mixing with sweat, dribbling down my thighs and onto the sheets.
The sensation sent me over the edge. I cried out, coming hard all over his chest and stomach, my body clenching around him, milking every last pulse, both of us trembling, lost.
For a long moment, we just clung together, breathing hard, bodies tangled, sweat cooling. Michael didn’t pull out, just held me tight, hands soothing over my back, down my thighs, keeping me close.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, voice wrecked and full of wonder. “So fucking beautiful. So fucking mine.”
I smiled, pressing a soft, tired kiss to his lips, my body aching in the best way. “Yours,” I promised. “Every messy, ruined inch.”
He stroked my hair, his fingers gentle now, the animal hunger giving way to something softer—protective, claiming, reverent.
I shifted, feeling his cum still inside me, thick and warm, leaking out as I clenched around him, relishing the ache and the proof of what we’d done. He kissed me, sweet and deep, hands never still, and I knew this was everything I’d ever wanted.
We stayed tangled together, a perfect wreck of sweat and warmth and the kind of quiet that only happens after you finally stop fighting yourself.
Michael lay against me like he belonged there, my thigh hooked over his, my hand splayed on his back as if I could anchor him to the bed and keep the world out.
His hair was a mess, his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded with that dazed, satisfied softness that made my chest ache in the worst, best way.
He let out a tired laugh, breath catching like his body still did not know what to do with peace. “I don’t think I can move my legs.”
I huffed a laugh into his hair. “Good.”
“Cocky,” he murmured, but he was smiling, real and bright. “I think you ruined me.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Debatable.” He shifted just enough to look at me, eyes searching like he was still trying to make sense of what we’d done. What we’d become in the space of one night. “So… what happens now?”
The question hit me right in the ribs.
Because my body wanted to answer with something simple. Something selfish. Hold him. Keep him. Pretend this was all that mattered.
But my mind was already reaching for consequences, for responsibility, for the pack, for the lines I had crossed and the ones I had not even noticed until they were gone.
I brushed his hair back, thumb dragging gently along his cheekbone. “Now I keep you close,” I said. “If you want that.”
His eyes softened. Hope sparked there, quick and bright. “What if I do?”