Chapter 11 #2
The word hangs in the air between us, changing everything. There’s a pause, then the sound of a cap opening. Not the massage oil this time, but something else. Lube. The realization makes my cock pulse against the mattress.
Riley’s hands return to my ass, massaging the muscles there, but now his thumbs dip deeper into the crease, sliding through it with purpose.
I tense despite myself, unused to being touched there.
He does it again and again, each pass bringing his thumbs closer to my entrance until one finally brushes over it.
I try not to react, but a shudder runs through me, impossible to hide. Riley doesn’t comment, just continues, his touch becoming more focused on that sensitive ring of muscle. Each time his thumb passes over it, I relax a little more, my body growing accustomed to the foreign sensation.
Finally, his thumb is replaced by a single slick finger, circling my entrance with gentle pressure.
“Let me in, Jacob,” Riley murmurs. “Relax for me.”
I take a deep breath and concentrate on releasing the tension in my muscles. Riley’s finger breaches me slowly, just to the first knuckle. It feels strange, invasive, but not unpleasant. His other hand continues massaging my left cheek, helping me stay relaxed.
“That’s it,” he praises. “You’re doing well.”
The approval in his voice washes over me like warm water. His finger slides deeper, past the second knuckle, and I grunt at the unfamiliar fullness. He works it in and out, his movements slow and careful, giving me time to adjust. Then he crooks his finger slightly, and—
“Holy fuck!” The curse explodes from me as pleasure rockets through my body, sudden and intense.
Riley does it again, pressing against that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
I whimper into the mattress as he continues to work my prostate, each press sending jolts of electricity through my cock. I’m grinding shamelessly into the bed now, seeking friction, seeking release.
“How does it feel?” Riley asks, though he must know the answer from the sounds I’m making.
“So good,” I gasp, beyond caring how I sound. “Why does it feel so fucking good?”
“Because you’re letting go,” Riley says, his voice a low rumble near my ear. I hadn’t realized how close he was leaning, but I can feel his breath on my neck now. “Can I add another finger?”
“Yes,” I groan, lifting my hips slightly. “Please.”
There’s a moment of pressure as he adds more lube, then the stretch as a second finger joins the first. Riley guides my left leg up, bending it at the knee, opening me wider to his touch. I let him position me, beyond shame now, consumed by sensation.
“You’re doing great, Jacob,” Riley murmurs, his clinical detachment slipping. “Opening so good for me.”
His praise makes something twist in my chest, a feeling I can’t name. His fingers work deeper, stretching and filling me, returning again and again to that spot that makes me see stars. I’m trembling now, my entire body wound tight with approaching release.
“I’m going to come,” I warn, my voice breaking. “Riley, fuck, I’m going to come.”
“Let go,” he commands. “Let it happen.”
His fingers press hard against my prostate, and I’m lost. My orgasm rips through me like a tidal wave, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Riley’s name tears from my throat as I spill onto the sheets beneath me.
“Fuck, Jacob,” Riley groans.
I’ve never heard him so raw and unguarded before. It does something to me, knowing I’m not the only one having my control broken like this.
I’m still shaking from the aftershocks, my body trembling as Riley’s fingers remain inside me, gentler now but still there, guiding me through my bliss. When I start to feel too sensitive, his fingers withdraw carefully.
“Jacob,” he says my name again, sounding like a question and a warning combined.
I hear the sound of his zipper being lowered and turn over, needing to see him, needing to witness what I’ve done to his composure.
Riley hovers over me, his face flushed, his eyes dark with arousal.
He takes his cock in hand—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip—and begins stroking himself, his movements fast and desperate.
“Give it to me,” I beg, surprised by my own words. “Please, Riley.”
A guttural sound escapes him at my plea. His hand moves faster, his breathing ragged. My own cock twitches, still sensitive from my orgasm, but already stirring again at the sight of Riley coming undone. I wrap my hand around it, stroking lazily.
“Fuck,” Riley gasps, and then he’s coming, hot streaks landing on my cock, my hand, my stomach. The sensation of his release on my skin pushes me over the edge again, impossibly, my body convulsing with a second orgasm that leaves me breathless and shaking.
For a few long minutes, we’re bathing in the afterglow of our shared release. My head collapses back against the mattress, my chest heaving, our combined mess cooling on my stomach. Riley stands at the foot of the bed, looking stunned.
Our eyes lock as we come down from the high, both of us panting. Something passes between us in that moment: recognition, connection, understanding. And then Riley’s expression changes, horror washing over his features as reality crashes back.
“I shouldn’t have—” he starts, stepping back from the bed. “This wasn’t—”
“Riley, wait.” I reach for him, but he’s already turning away, grabbing tissues from the nightstand to clean himself hastily.
“We need to talk about this,” I say, pushing myself up on my elbows.
“No, I… I need to go.” He collects his things with frantic energy, shoving bottles back into his bag.
“Riley, stop. Just—”
But he’s already heading for the door, leaving me naked on the bed. I hear him moving through the apartment, the front door opening and then closing with a decisive click.
I stare at the ceiling, feeling the sticky evidence of what we did cooling on my skin. Something fundamental has shifted inside me. A door I never knew existed now stands wide open. I know with absolute certainty that after what just happened, I’ll never be the same again.