Chapter 52 Ivan
I've been awake since five in the morning, too wired to sleep.
The apartment complex is mostly empty still.
Just the queen-size bed I bought from a guy at work.
His wife made him upgrade and he sold me this one for a hundred bucks.
A few boxes of my stuff from Rosalyn's stacked against the wall.
No couch yet, no TV, no kitchen table. Just bare floors and blank walls.
And in about an hour, Jay will be here.
I make coffee in the secondhand pot I picked up at Goodwill last week, standing at the kitchen counter because there's nowhere to sit. This is the first time Jay will see the apartment in person. The first time he'll walk through the door of the place that's going to be ours.
Not mine. Not his. Ours.
Twenty minutes before he's supposed to arrive, I hear the motorcycle. The low, distinctive rumble that I've learned to recognize from blocks away. I set down my coffee mug and move to the window, watching as Jay pulls into the parking lot below, finds a spot near the building, and cuts the engine.
He sits there for a moment, his hands on the handlebars. Then he pulls off his helmet and looks up at the second floor. Even from here, I can see him smiling.
I'm at the front door before he reaches the top of the stairs, my hand on the doorknob, waiting. When he appears at the landing, I can barely contain myself.
"Hey," he says, slightly breathless from the climb and the drive. His dark hair is messy from the helmet, sticking up in every direction. His cheeks are flushed from the wind. His eyes are bright.
He takes my breath away.
"Hey yourself."
I grab the front of his leather jacket and pull him inside, kicking the door shut behind us with my foot. He barely has time to drop his overnight bag on the floor before my mouth is on his.
The kiss is hungry, desperate, weeks of phone calls and waiting finally boiling over into this moment. Jay makes a sound against my lips—surprise, relief, pure need—and his hands come up to grip my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
"Missed you," I manage between kisses, my hands already working at his jacket zipper.
"Missed you too. God, so much."
I'm already walking him backward, steering him toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss. He goes willingly, his fingers working at the zipper of his jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor somewhere behind us.
"Wait," he says, pulling back just enough to look around, to take in the apartment. "I haven't even seen the place yet. I should—"
"Later." I pull his t-shirt over his head and toss it somewhere, needing to see his skin. "Apartment tour later. This first. I need you first."
He laughs breathlessly, that low rough sound that goes straight to my gut, that makes heat pool in my cock. "I like your priorities."
We stumble into the bedroom, and Jay stops short. The bed takes up most of the small room, covered in the new sheets I bought yesterday. Dark blue, because Jay mentioned once that he liked dark blue. Real pillows, not the flat motel kind. A soft comforter.
"Holy shit," Jay breathes, staring at it. "That's an actual real bed."
"Our bed." I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my lips to the back of his neck, breathing him in. "No more motel mattresses with springs poking through. This is ours. Only ours to use and abuse."
He turns in my arms, and I kiss him again, slower this time, savoring it. His bare chest is warm against mine through my T-shirt, and I can feel his heart pounding, racing just as fast as mine, matching the rhythm perfectly.
"Too many clothes," Jay mutters against my mouth, his hands already tugging at my shirt. "You're wearing way too many clothes."
I lift my arms and let him pull my shirt off. Then his hands are on my belt, my jeans, pushing everything down with impatient fingers until I'm stepping out of the pile of fabric and kicking it aside. We're both standing there in nothing but our boxers, breathing hard, staring at each other.
"Bed," I say. "Now. Get on the bed."
We fall onto the mattress together, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter and gasping breaths. The sheets are cool and smooth against my back, so different from motel sheets. And then Jay is on top of me, his weight pressing me down into the mattress, his mouth trailing hot kisses down my neck.
"I've been thinking about this," he says against my collarbone, his breath hot on my skin. "Lying in that shitty motel room, imagining what it would be like to have you in a real bed. Our own space."
"And?" I run my hands down his back, feeling every muscle. "How does reality compare?"
"It's better than I imagined. So much better."
He kisses down my chest, taking his time, his hot mouth trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses over my skin, tasting the faint salt of my sweat.
He pauses to close his lips around my left nipple, sucking hard with a swirl of his tongue that sends a sharp jolt straight to my cock, making it twitch and leak against the fabric of my boxers.
I arch up into him, gasping as the suction pulls deep, the sensitive bud hardening under his teeth when he nips gently, the sting blooming into throbbing heat.
Then he moves to the right one, laving it with the flat of his tongue before biting down just enough to make me whine, my hands clutching at his shoulders.
His hands are everywhere—sliding over my sides, calluses scraping lightly over my ribs, gripping my hips possessively, fingers hooking into the waistband of my boxers, tugging teasingly.
"Can I take these off?" he asks, fingers already pulling at the elastic, knuckles brushing the trail of hair leading down.
"Yes. God, yes. Please—get me naked, touch me everywhere."
He pulls my boxers down and off slowly, the fabric dragging over my hardening cock, making it spring free and slap against my stomach.
He tosses them somewhere across the room, the soft thud distant as his dark eyes roam over my body like he's memorizing every detail—every faint scar from old accidents, every freckle, every imperfection that makes me real.
My cock lies heavy against my abdomen, head flushed a deep pink and already glistening with pre-cum that beads at the slit, balls tight and full beneath.
"You're so perfect to me," he says. "Do you know that? Every single time I see you, it hits me all over again. How beautiful you are—your lean body, that gorgeous cock leaking for me. How lucky I am you're mine, all mine to touch and taste."
"Jay—"
"I mean it." He leans down and presses a kiss to my hip bone, the warmth of his lips making my skin tingle, then lower, his breath ghosting over my inner thigh, hot and teasing, making my cock throb visibly.
"You're the most gorgeous, tantalizing thing I've ever seen.
Will ever see—every curve, every hard line, that pretty dick begging for my mouth. "
Then his mouth is on me, hot and wet and perfect, enveloping the head of my cock in velvet heat, his tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge, lapping up the pre-cum with a hum that vibrates through my shaft.
The sensation is electric—his lips stretching around my girth, sucking gently at first, then harder, the wet suction pulling at my skin, making my balls draw up tight.
I stop thinking altogether, lost in the filthy pleasure.
He takes his time, working me with his lips and tongue, one hand wrapped firmly around the base, stroking the part he can't fit, his fingers squeezing just right to make me pulse in his grip.
The other hand grips my thigh, nails digging in slightly, grounding me as he bobs deeper, throat relaxing to take more of me, the tight heat making my head spin.
I thread my fingers through his dark hair, not pushing or guiding, just holding on, watching him through half-closed eyes as he takes me apart piece by piece—the obscene sight of his cheeks hollowing, saliva dripping down my shaft to my balls, mixing with my pre-cum.
"Jay, I'm gonna—if you don't stop I'm gonna—fuck, your mouth feels too good, sucking me like that—"
He pulls off, his lips swollen and slick with spit and pre-cum, grinning up at me wickedly. "Not yet. I don't want you to come yet. I want to feel you inside me when you come—want your thick cock pulsing in my ass, filling me up."
The words steal my breath, sending a fresh rush of blood to my already aching erection.
We've talked about this, planned for it, fantasized about it during late-night phone calls—describing in filthy detail how it'd feel, how I'd stretch him, how he'd clench around me.
But we've never actually done it. There was always a reason to wait—not enough time, not the right place, not ready yet.
"Are you sure?" I ask, shaking with restraint. "We don't have to rush this. We have all the time in the world now—in our own place."
"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life.
" He crawls back up my body and kisses me deep.
"I want you. All of you. I want to feel you inside me—your big dick stretching me wide.
I want to feel you for days after, sore and marked.
I want to finally be all yours. Here in our place. For the first time."
I groan into his mouth, the sound guttural, and roll us over with gentle force, reversing our positions so he's on his back beneath me, legs parting instinctively.
His dark hair is spread across the blue pillow, his lips swollen from sucking me, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.
He's perfect. He's absolutely perfect—his lean frame, nipples still tight from the cool air, cock jutting up hard and flushed, the head slick and begging.
"I brought stuff," he says breathlessly, eyes glazed. "In my bag. Lube. I came prepared—thinking about this all day."
"I bought some too. Nightstand drawer—been jerking off to the thought of using it on you."
He laughs softly, the sound full of affection and heat. "Look at us. Both planning ahead like responsible adults. Who would have thought? Now get it—lube me up, finger my ass. Get me ready for you."
I kiss him again, deep and thorough, tongues tangling as I reach over to the nightstand and pull out the lube. My hands are trembling slightly, the anticipation making my cock throb painfully.
"We'll go slow," I promise him, needing him to know this. "Really slow. You tell me if anything doesn't feel right—if it hurts, if my fingers are too much. You tell me if you want to stop. Promise me."
"I promise. But I don't want to stop. I want this." He reaches up and cups my face in both hands, his eyes locked on mine, burning with trust and desire. "I want you. I've wanted this for so long—your cock buried in me, fucking me deep. I need this."
I work his boxers off carefully, sliding them down his hips, revealing his cock inch by inch—the shaft slimmer than mine but rock-hard, curving slightly toward his stomach, veins pulsing under the smooth skin, head a deep red and weeping pre-cum that trails down to his balls.
And then we're both naked, completely bare, skin against slick skin, nothing between us—his heat seeping into me, our cocks brushing, sending sparks through us both.
"Beautiful," I murmur, echoing his earlier words, my hand trailing down his chest to wrap around his length, stroking slowly, feeling it throb hot and insistent in my palm. "You're so fucking beautiful, Jay— this pretty cock leaking for me, your tight hole waiting."
"Less talking" He's smiling, hips bucking into my fist. "More touching. Please—touch my ass, get me ready for you."
I laugh and reach for the lube, squirting a generous amount onto my fingers, warming it between them until it's slick and ready.
I start slow and gentle, circling his entrance with one slick finger, the tight pucker twitching under my touch, the skin hot and sensitive.
Watching his face carefully for any sign of discomfort, I press the pad against him, rubbing in slow circles to relax the muscle.
His eyes flutter closed, his lips parting on a soft exhale, a faint flush creeping up his neck.
"Okay?" I ask softly.
"More than okay. Keep going. Don't stop—feels good, your finger teasing my hole like that."
I press one finger inside, slow and steady, the lube easing the way as his tight ring yields, clenching around my knuckle in a velvet grip that's almost too much.
He's tight, impossibly tight—hot walls hugging my digit, pulsing with every breath he takes—and I have to force myself to be patient, to give him time to adjust to this intrusion, the burn of the stretch evident in the way his brows furrow briefly before smoothing out.
"You feel amazing," I tell him, working my finger deeper, crooking it slightly to rub his inner walls, the slick slide making obscene sounds. "So hot, so tight around my finger—gripping me like you never want to let go. I can't wait to be inside you for real, feel this ass clench around my cock."
"Then stop waiting," he gasps, his body arching off the bed like I've electrocuted him, hole fluttering around me. "More. Give me more. I can take it—stretch me wider."
I add a second finger, pouring more lube to keep it slick, pushing in alongside the first, the stretch making him hiss at first—the burn sharper now, his rim pulling taut around my knuckles—but then he relaxes, moaning low as I scissor them gently, opening him up.
The heat inside him is intense, walls soft and yielding, gripping my fingers with every twist. I curl them to find his special spot.
I know I've found it when he cries out sharply, his whole body jerking, cock leaking a fresh bead of pre-cum onto his stomach, hole clenching hard around me.
"There," he pants, hips rocking back onto my hand. "Right there. Oh fuck, Ivan, right there, don't stop—rubbing my prostate like that, feels like lightning in my dick."
I work him open until he's loose and desperate, fucking himself back onto my fingers shamelessly, the slick sounds filling the room, his hole slick and gaping slightly when I pull back to add more lube.
By the time I add a third finger, stretching him wider, the burn giving way to pure pleasure, he's a mess—sweating, trembling, incoherent pleas falling from his lips, cock throbbing untouched, balls tight and heavy. "Please—fuck me now, need your cock—"
By the time I slick myself up generously, the lube coating my veined shaft until it glistens, we're both shaking with need, my cockhead nudging his entrance teasingly.
"Ready?" I ask, positioning myself at his entrance, the blunt head of my cock pressing against his slick, loosened hole, the heat radiating even through the barrier.