Chapter 19 Cabin Fever #5
He left the bed for approximately four seconds and it felt like four years. I heard the zip of the bag, the rummage, his quiet grunt of satisfaction when he found it. Then he was back, the bed dipping under his weight, his hands on me again like he couldn't stand not touching me for even that long.
The click of the cap. The cool drizzle of lube against my hole, making me hiss.
“Good?” he asked.
“More than good. Please—”
He pulled his fingers free and I felt his hands on my ass cheeks, spreading them, and then the blunt head of his cock pressing against my hole.
“Gonna fill this perfect hole with my come and watch it leak out of you.”
“Please, Daddy. Want to feel you. All of you.”
He pushed in slowly. I could feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him inside me without any barrier. It was intimate and primal and exactly what I needed.
“Fuck, you feel incredible like this. So hot and tight around my cock.”
He bottomed out and we both groaned. Then he started moving, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The angle let him go deep, hitting my prostate on every thrust, and I had to brace myself to keep from collapsing.
“This hole was made for me,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Made to take my cock. Made to be bred.”
“Yes, Daddy. Fuck, yes—”
His hand fisted in my hair suddenly, yanking my head back, and I cried out from the pleasure. He used the grip to pull me back onto his cock, controlling my movements completely.
“That's it. Take it. Take every fucking inch of Daddy's cock.”
He was fucking me hard now, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with our harsh breathing and my desperate moans. Every thrust punched the air from my lungs, every pull on my hair sent sparks down my spine.
“Harder,” I begged. “Fuck me harder, Daddy.”
“Greedy little slut.” But he complied, slamming into me with bruising force. His free hand gripped my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. “This what you need? Need Daddy to wreck this hole?”
“Yes—fuck—yes—”
He pulled my hair harder, arching my back at a painful angle, and somehow managed to get even deeper. He was stretching me open.
“Gonna breed this hole,” he grunted. “Gonna pump you so full of come it leaks out for days. Everyone's gonna smell me on you. Gonna know who you belong to.”
“Yours, Daddy. I'm yours—”
“Damn right you are.” He released my hair only to grab both my hips, using the leverage to pound into me relentlessly. “My hole to fuck. Mine.”
I was reduced to incoherent moans and gasps, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. My cock hung heavy between my legs, leaking steadily onto the sheets, untouched and desperate.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Want you to come on my cock while I breed you.”
I reached down with my good hand, wrapping it around my aching cock, and stroked in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming—his bare cock pounding into my hole while my hand worked my shaft.
“That's it. Stroke that cock while Daddy fucks you. Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna make you mine in every way.”
His pace was brutal now, chasing his own release.
“Fuck, your hole is perfect. Gripping me so tight. Like you never want to let me go.”
“Don't want to. Want you inside me always—”
He groaned at that, thrusts getting erratic. “Gonna give you what you want. Gonna breed this hungry hole.”
His hand came down hard on my ass making me cry out. Then again, harder, and I felt the sting spread across my skin.
“Take it. Take everything Daddy gives you.”
He spanked me again and again, timing each slap with a particularly deep thrust, and I was losing my mind. The pain mixed with the pleasure until I couldn't tell them apart, could only exist in the overwhelming sensation of being used and claimed.
“Please, Daddy. Please breed me. Want to feel you come inside me—”
“Not yet.” He slowed his thrusts deliberately, going deep and grinding against my prostate. “Not until you beg properly.”
“I am begging—”
“Louder. Tell me what you need.”
“Need your come, Daddy. Need you to breed my hole and fill me up. Please—fuck—please give it to me—”
“That's better.” His hand fisted in my hair again, pulling my head back. “But I want you desperate for it. Want you so fucking needy you can't think straight.”
He fucked me with long, deliberate strokes, each one hitting my prostate and making my cock leak. He kept me right on the edge, never quite enough to push me over but too much to let me come down.
“Daddy, please—I need—I can't—”
“You can. You will. Gonna keep fucking this hole until you're begging me with tears in your eyes.”
And he did. He fucked me with ruthless precision, knowing exactly how to work my body, exactly what I needed and withholding it just enough to drive me insane.
My hand on my cock was moving frantically now, chasing relief I couldn't quite reach. Tears were streaming down my face from the intensity, from the desperation, from the overwhelming need for release.
“Please, Daddy. Please, I'm begging you. Need your come. Need to be bred. Please—”
Then suddenly he pulled out, and I whimpered at the emptiness. Before I could protest, his hands were on me, manhandling me with surprising strength, flipping me onto my back.
“Need to see your face when I breed you,” he growled. “Get on top of me. Gonna watch you ride my cock.”
He lay back on the bed, his cock standing thick and hard and glistening with lube and my own slick. I straddled him carefully, mindful of my injuries, and positioned myself over him.
“That's it. Take what you need, baby. Ride Daddy's cock.”
I sank down slowly, feeling every inch of him stretching me open again from this new angle. The fullness was intense, almost too much, and I had to pause halfway to adjust.
“All the way,” he ordered, hands gripping my hips. “Want you sitting on my cock. Want to be buried in this perfect hole.”
I lowered myself the rest of the way, taking him to the root, and we both groaned. From this position he felt even bigger, hitting different spots inside me.
“Fuck, Daddy—so deep—”
“Yeah? Feel me in your guts?” His hands squeezed my hips. “Now move. Show me how much you want this come.”
I started riding him, using my good leg to push up and down, finding a rhythm that had us both gasping. Every drop down drove him against my prostate, sending sparks of pleasure through my oversensitive body.
“That's it. Ride that cock. Such a good boy. Taking it so well.”
His hands moved from my hips to my ass, gripping the cheeks and spreading them, helping me move on his cock.
“Look at you. Taking my cock so perfectly. Hole stretched around me. Fucking beautiful.”
I was getting close again already, my cock bouncing against my stomach with every movement, leaking steadily. I wrapped my good hand around myself and started stroking, matching the rhythm of my riding.
“Yes. Fuck yes. Stroke that cock while you ride me. Want to watch you come all over yourself.”
I rode him harder, faster, chasing the pleasure building in my gut. My hand moved frantically on my cock, and I could feel my orgasm approaching like a freight train.
“Daddy—I'm close—fuck, I'm so close—”
“Me too, baby. Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed this hole so good.” His hands gripped my ass harder, helping me move. “Come with me. Want to feel this hole milk my cock while you come.”
I bounced on his cock desperately, hand flying over my shaft, everything building to an impossible peak. His cock was hammering my prostate from this angle, and combined with my hand on my cock it was too much.
“Daddy—fuck—I'm gonna—”
“Do it. Come for Daddy. Come on my cock.”
My orgasm slammed into me and I threw my head back, crying out as I came. My cock pulsed in my hand, shooting thick ropes of come all over my chest and stomach, some of it reaching my chin. My hole clenched around Grant's cock, spasming and gripping him tight.
“Fuck—Jace—” He roared beneath me, hips bucking up hard, and I felt him explode inside me. The sensation of his bare cock pulsing, pumping hot come directly into my hole, was indescribable.
“Yes—breed me—fill me up, Daddy—”
He kept coming, seemed like it would never stop, just kept filling me until I felt it start to leak out around his cock even though he was still buried inside me.
“So much come,” he groaned. “Filling you so full it's already leaking out. Fuck, baby, your hole is perfect.”
I collapsed forward onto his chest, his cock still inside me, both of us breathing hard and covered in sweat and come. His arms came around me carefully, holding me close, and I felt his softening cock slip out of me.
Immediately more of his come leaked out, running down my thighs and onto his, and I felt the emptiness acutely. I didn't want to lose it. Wanted to keep him inside me as long as possible.
“There's a plug,” I mumbled against his chest. “In the nightstand. Top drawer.”
Grant went still beneath me. Then he started laughing—a deep, genuine sound that rumbled through his chest and made me smile despite my exhaustion.
“What?” I lifted my head to look at him.
“You—” He was still laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You have a plug to your cabin?”
“I was hopeful.”
“Hopeful.” He shook his head, grinning. “Here I thought I knew how kinky you were, and you keep surprising me.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Fuck no.” He kissed me, still smiling against my lips. “It's perfect. You're perfect. Stay right there.”
He shifted me carefully off him and reached over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. I watched him rummage through it until he found the plug—a medium-sized one, black silicone, nothing too extreme but enough to keep his come inside me.
“This one?” he asked, holding it up.
“Yeah.”
He grabbed the lube too and settled back between my legs. “Spread for me, baby.”
I let my legs fall open, feeling vulnerable and exposed but trusting him completely. His eyes were fixed on my hole, watching his come leak out, and the hunger in his expression made my spent cock twitch with interest.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “All stretched and messy and full of my come.”
He gathered some of the come that had leaked out and pushed it back inside me with his fingers. I gasped at the sensation, still oversensitive, and he did it again, working his come deeper.
“Gonna keep it all inside you,” he said. “Gonna plug you up so you stay full of me.”
He lubed up the plug and positioned it at my entrance. The initial stretch made me hiss but he went slowly, easing it in inch by inch until it was fully seated.
The fullness was different than having his cock inside me, but satisfying in its own way. A constant pressure, a reminder of what we'd just done.
“How's that feel?” he asked.
“Good. Full.”
“Good.” He leaned down and kissed my hip bone, then my stomach, pressing gentle kisses to the come drying on my skin. “You did so well for me. Took everything I gave you. So fucking proud of you.”
I reached down and ran my fingers through his hair, just needing to touch him.
“We should get cleaned up,” he said after a moment. “You're a mess.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah, but I'm not the one recovering from injuries.” He sat up and looked at me seriously. “How's your shoulder? Your leg?”
“Sore. But okay.”
“Scale of one to ten.”
“Maybe a four? Five?”
He nodded, processing that. “Bathroom. Come on.”
“I can walk.”
“I know you can. But you're not going to.” Before I could protest, he scooped me up in his arms, careful of my shoulder, and carried me toward the bathroom.
“Grant—”
“Humor me.”
I let my head rest against his shoulder, too tired and satisfied to argue. He set me down carefully on the closed toilet lid and turned on the shower, testing the temperature with his hand.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
“It's fine.”
He helped me stand and guided me into the shower, following close behind. The warm water felt incredible on my sore muscles, washing away the sweat and come and evidence of what we'd done.
Grant's hands were gentle as he washed me, starting with my hair and working his way down. When he reached my ass, he was extra careful around the plug, making sure not to jostle it.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Feels good.”
He washed himself quickly after, then turned off the water and grabbed towels. He dried me off with the same careful attention he'd shown while washing me, then wrapped the towel around my waist.
“Think you can make it back to bed?”
“I'm not that fragile.”
“I know. But I'm carrying you anyway.”
He scooped me up again, and this time I didn't protest. Just let him carry me back to the bedroom, where he set me down gently on the clean side of the bed—away from the wet spot we'd created.
“Stay put,” he ordered.
I watched as he stripped the soiled sheets and replaced them with fresh ones from the closet, moving efficiently around the small space. When he was done, he climbed into bed beside me and pulled me against his chest.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing in sync, tangled together in a way that felt both perfect and terrifying. His hand traced lazy patterns on my back, soothing and grounding.
“Get some sleep,” he murmured. “I've got you.”
And for the first time in a week, wrapped in his arms with his come plugged inside me, I believed him.
The world went soft and warm and quiet. For the first time in a week, I didn't feel alone.