Chapter 10 #3
“Good answer,” I whispered. “Hold still.” I slid my fingers in, slow but steady.
He was tight, but there was no resistance once I got the angle right.
He wanted it, even when he braced and shuddered; he wanted every bit of it, and maybe he needed it as much as I did.
I worked my fingers slowly, deeper, rubbing careful circles until his whole body went limp and he whined, desperate and raw.
His back arched off the mattress, and I held him steady with my forearm, letting him struggle against it, just a little, just enough to remind him he wasn’t getting free.
He kept his hands above his head, knuckles white against the pillow. It killed me, how obedient he was, how every careful breath came out shaky, but he wouldn’t stop, not until I told him to. Every inch of him begged for it, whether he realized or not.
“More?” I murmured, right up against his ear, breath hot. He nodded, so open and wrecked for me already, blinking fast and not daring to close his eyes.
“Please,” he said, the word hoarse.
I could have drawn it out forever. I wanted to. But he was shaking and his cock was leaking, and my own control was hanging by a thread. I slid the condom on, slicked up, and pressed in, steady, watching his face the whole time.
He made a small sound, something half pain, half relief, and I paused to let him adjust, hands braced on either side of his shoulders.
I wanted to fuck him through the mattress, but I didn’t, not yet.
Not with the way he was clinging to the sheets, not with the way every muscle in his body tensed and then let go.
“Okay?” I asked. One word. He nodded, frantic, dragging in air like it was the only thing left in his world.
I started moving, slow at first, deep so he could feel every inch of it.
He arched, helpless, and I bent down and bit his neck, not enough to mark but enough to make him whimper.
His legs slid around my waist, clinging on, and I let myself press him down into the bed.
He took every thrust like he’d been built for it, like he needed to be pinned and fucked and possessed.
His hands stayed where I’d put them. The trust in that nearly killed me.
I picked up the pace, harder, watching his face for any sign I needed to stop. There wasn’t any—not even close. He took everything and begged for more, gasping out please and fuck and my name, over and over.
“God, look at you,” I growled. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”
His eyes finally fluttered shut and I let myself go, thrusting in hard enough that the headboard knocked the wall.
He didn’t care. He was gone, lost in it.
His body tightened up around me, and I lost the last scrap of control; I grabbed his cock and stroked him roughly, matching my rhythm, and he came so hard it splattered his stomach and my hand.
He shook and sobbed and never once tried to close off or hide. Not from me.
I kept going, just a little longer, desperate for all of him. I wanted to fill him up, wanted to watch him come undone, to see the look in his eyes when he broke apart under me, knowing I was the only one who’d ever given him that.
I stroked him through it, slow, careful not to overwhelm even when the urge was there to just take, because every muscle in his body had gone soft and loose, no resistance anywhere.
He let me push him open, let me fuck him as deep as I wanted, right to the edge of too much, and never once tried to twist away.
That trust did something to me. Set a fire under my skin I didn’t want to put out.
When I started coming, I nearly saw stars.
The world snapped down to just the heat of his body and the smell of sweat and the tight, shivery way he clung to my arms as if he needed to stay tethered to earth.
I braced myself on the sheets, chest heaving, one hand planted by his head so I could watch every second of it.
He was trembling, breath coming in little stutters, but his hands never left the pillow even though I’d stopped telling him what to do ages ago.
I pressed my mouth to his cheek, rough and messy, not caring about anything except keeping him right here.
He made a sound like a sob, dragged in a shaky breath, and then I felt him coming again, wet and urgent against my stomach.
He didn’t even touch himself. It was just the way I moved inside him, the way I held him down and whispered in his ear how beautiful he looked falling apart, how I wanted him, how I would never let anyone else get this close.
I kept fucking him until the aftershocks died out, then let myself collapse on top of him, careful not to crush his ribs.
For a minute I just held him, letting the sweat cool on our skin and the shaking settle.
I could feel his heartbeat pounding under my palm.
I didn’t want to lose that closeness, even though eventually I’d have to move and get us cleaned up.
I forced myself up on an elbow and checked his face. His eyelashes were wet and his cheeks smudged red, but he smiled at me, soft and wild all at once. “That was…”
Words failed him. For once.
I grinned, too wrung out to fake anything but the truth. “Yeah. It was.”