Chapter 26 #2
"God, Hartley," he murmurs, his breath hot against my inner thigh, "you look so fucking good like this; I want to taste every part of you."
His words send a shiver through me and I nod, spreading my legs further. My mind races with the thought that this feels right, that he's the only one who's ever made me feel this seen—this wanted without reservation.
He starts slow, his lips pressing kisses along my thigh, up to the crease where leg meets hip, his tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin there.
I grip the sheets, my knuckles whitening, fighting the urge to moan out loud because Alaska's in a room just down the hall, so are his parents.
Then his mouth moves higher, his hands spreading my cheeks apart and he dives in, his tongue flat and wet against my hole.
With broad strokes that make my back arch off the bed he laps at me, pleasure sparking hot and electric up my spine.
I bite down on my fist, a muffled whine escaping despite my efforts, the sensation overwhelming. His tongue circles and probes, pushing inside just enough to make me clench around it. He hums in approval, the vibration adding another layer of intensity.
No one's ever done this for me before. It feels intimate, like he's claiming me in the softest, dirtiest way.
"Shhh," he breathes against me, pulling back just enough to speak, his finger tracing the rim now, slick with his spit, "gotta be quiet, baby. You don’t want my mom to come in here and see me fucking this perfect ass with my tongue, do you?"
I shake my head frantically, my eyes squeezing shut as he presses one finger in slowly.
The stretch burns sweetly, filling me in a way that makes my cock throb against my stomach, pre-cum smearing across my skin.
He works his finger deeper, curling it to brush that spot inside that sends stars bursting behind my eyelids and I whine again, higher this time, burying my face in the pillow to muffle it.
"Fuck, you're so tight here," he says, his voice husky, adding a second finger after a moment, scissoring them gently, opening me up. "I can't wait until you're ready to bottom for me, Hartley. Imagining my cock sliding into you... God, it'd be everything."
His words paint the picture in my mind. Heat floods my cheeks and my groin, the vulnerability of it hitting me hard because, yeah, I want that too with him—when the nerves loosen their grip. Right now though, the way he's preparing me, worshipping me makes me feel cherished, desired.
He keeps at it, tongue and fingers alternating, building me up until I'm trembling, on the edge but not quite there. My whines turn desperate, muffled into the pillow as he shushes me softly, his free hand stroking my thigh in reassurance.
Finally he pulls away, lips shiny and eyes dark with lust as he crawls up my body. He kisses me deeply so I taste myself on his tongue, salty and intimate. I groan into his mouth, my hands roaming his back, nails digging in just enough to make him gasp.
"Your turn," I whisper, pushing him onto his back, my voice rough with need.
He grins, a soft, knowing smile that twists something in my chest. I slide down, taking him in hand and stroking firmly from base to tip, feeling him pulse hot and heavy in my grip.
I lean in and lick the head first, tasting the salt of his pre-cum before swallowing him down inch by inch. My lips stretch around his girth as my tongue swirls along the underside. I bob my head slowly, taking him deeper with each pass.
Stellan threads his fingers through my hair, not pushing, just holding, his breaths coming in quiet pants. “Yeah, just like that,” he murmurs, his hips twitching upward slightly. “Your mouth feels incredible, so warm, so good.”
I work him steadily, sucking harder, hollowing my cheeks, one hand fondling his balls and rolling them gently, feeling them draw up tight.
My own arousal throbs, neglected between my legs, but seeing him like this—head thrown back, eyes half-lidded, lost in the pleasure I'm giving him—fuels me.
It makes me want to draw this out, to make him feel as undone as he makes me.
After a few minutes he tugs me up gently, kissing me again and tasting himself on my lips.
“I need you inside me,” he says, voice low and urgent, rolling us so he's on all fours, ass presented to me. The curve of his back is inviting, his hole twitching in anticipation.
I kneel behind him, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and lingering nerves, but it's overshadowed by the way he looks back at me over his shoulder, eyes soft despite the heat.
“Prep me,” he instructs softly, grabbing the lube from the nightstand drawer and handing it over.
I slick my fingers generously, circling his entrance first, feeling him relax under my touch.
Then I push one digit in, the heat of him enveloping me immediately, tight and welcoming.
He pushes back, taking it deeper, a quiet moan escaping him that he cuts off by biting the pillow.
I add a second finger, twisting, and his arms buckle slightly, his body shuddering.
“More,” he whispers, voice muffled. “Get me ready for you, Hartley. I want to feel you.”
My mind spins with how this feels like a gift; him offering himself to me in his childhood room, the posters watching like silent guardians. The quiet amplifies every slick sound, every shared breath.
Satisfied he's open enough, I withdraw my fingers and roll on a condom from the drawer.
The latex is cool against my hot shaft as I sheath myself, then lube up generously.
I line up, pressing the head against him and he nods, pushing back to take me in.
The stretch is visible as I sink forward inch by inch, his body gripping me like a vise, so tight it steals my breath.
“Fuck, Stellan,” I groan softly as I bottom out, my hips flush against his ass. The fullness is overwhelming, better than anything I've felt before, because it's him—because of the emotions swirling under the lust, the hope mingling with the fear.
I start moving, slow at first, pulling out halfway and thrusting back in, building a rhythm. He meets me, rocking back, his hand reaching under to stroke himself, quiet whines muffled into the pillow.
“Harder,” he breathes, glancing back, eyes pleading.
I oblige, gripping his hips and pounding into him with sharp, deep thrusts, the slap of skin on skin hushed but insistent. My balls draw tight already from how incredible he feels.
“You're so tight,” I pant, leaning over him, my chest to his back. One arm wraps around to pinch his nipple while my other hand covers his mouth gently to muffle his cries. “Never felt anything like this. Like you're made for me, pulling me in so deep.”
He nods against my hand, his body clenching around me and pushing me closer to the edge. I feel the vulnerability in how he trembles, how he trusts me to take control here, in this space that's so personal to him.
Sweat slicks our skin, the air thick with the scent of sex, lube, and us. My thrusts grow erratic, pleasure coiling tight in my gut. He comes first, his body seizing, cum spilling over his hand onto the sheets in hot pulses, his muffled cry vibrating against my palm.
That tips me over. I bury myself deep, coming hard inside him, the condom catching it all as waves crash through me, leaving me shaking and spent.
We collapse together, me still inside him for a moment before pulling out carefully and disposing of the condom in the small trashcan by the bed. He turns in my arms, pulling me close, our bodies sticky and warm, breaths syncing in the quiet.
His fingers trace lazy patterns along my back, the kind of touch that makes my eyes grow heavy.
“It’s never been so good,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.
I huff out a soft laugh and tuck my face into the curve of his neck.