42. Dylan #2
I force him deeper into my throat, until I make myself gag on him, and he lets out more of those low moans that make my insides liquefy with need.
My thighs tremble, and my knees are starting to ache from the cold stone floor of the cave.
Every now and then a gust of wind sprays us both with droplets of water. I don’t think Adrian even notices.
Adrian’s hips start to move faster, and he pushes his cock deeper down my throat.
My tongue is coated with the salty taste of his precum.
“I’m gonna—” he rasps, and I pull off him.
He lets out a desperate noise and tugs my head forward until my mouth is against his erection. He grinds it against my face with pure desperation.
I grab his hips and hold him steady, and he sends me a hazy look, his chest falling and rising rapidly with his panting breaths.
I get up on my feet. Time is of the essence. I get rid of my shirt and pull off my shorts. The feel of fabric sliding down my rock-hard dick is almost excruciating.
Adrian is looking at me with wide eyes.
“Why’d you stop?” He sounds half-drunk as he reaches toward me. The back of his hand slides over my dick, and I nearly howl.
“Don’t,” I say sharply. He stills, and I let out a frustrated breath. “Please,” I say. Beg. “Let me.”
I pause.
How do I say it without fucking this up?
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. There should be a discussion before and then a slow seduction. Not whatever this is. This desperate hunger and begging.
I don’t give a fuck.
“What do you want?” Adrian asks.
I drag my fingers through my hair. “I know this isn’t—” I let out a frustrated growl at my inability to form a coherent sentence. “I need you,” I blurt. “All of you.”
I have no idea what’s going to happen now, but I brave a look at him.
I blow out another breath. “I know you’ve never been with a—” I look down, then I set my jaw and face him again.
I push down the things I really want to say.
“Fuck me,” I say. The words are easier like this, if I make it sound mechanical, like a transaction with nothing else involved.
I take all the emotion out of my voice. “Fuck me. I need it.”
Not you. It. I need it. Not him. It could be anybody, but there’s no one else around, so you’ll have to do.
Please just believe it.
He steps closer and erases the few feet of distance I put between us.
His shorts fall down, and he steps out of them.
“I don’t know what to do,” he says. He sounds like it.
I let out a short laugh. “I’ll walk you through it.”
I don’t wait for anything else, I just kiss him again. Firm and hard and only for a second before I pull away. He watches while I suck two fingers into my mouth and then spit on them.
Look, I’m not here to claim lube isn’t essential. But the thing is, the island pharmacy was out already when we got here.
I’ll make do.
I spread my legs and push my fingers inside. It stings. It’s been a while. For a year, I’ve mainly just jerked off. Fast and hard, release for the sake of release.
I pull my fingers out. Add more spit.
I find my prostate and stroke it before I go back to stretching myself.
The whole time, Adrian watches.
I go back down on my knees and suck him into my mouth while I work myself open. It’s even messier now. I’m sucking him off sloppily, but it’s not important.
I do the bare minimum and call it good.
Then I’m on my feet again.
I turn around and lean my arms against the wall of the cave, pressing my forehead against my arms as I widen my legs.
And I wait.
I’m not gonna ask him again.
The ball’s in his court.
It seems to take forever for each second to tick by. My skin is so sensitive from anticipation and fear of rejection that even the slightest bit of air moving makes it break out in goose bumps.
Feet shuffle.
A breath escapes.
Mine or his?
No way to know.
Then his hand is on my hip.
It’s the gentlest of touches.
Barely a touch.
For a moment, he just holds it there, before his fingers move to get a better grip. His thumb caresses the upper curve of my ass just below the small of my back.
My hips move forward of their own accord.
I need to fuck something.
But I stay still.
Adrian’s lips are next to my ear.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he says softly.
The shaky edge to his voice contradicts that promise, but I don’t care. He can do whatever he wants with me as long as I get him inside me.
A shaky hand moves from my hip to my front and shaky fingers wrap around my cock.
A moan escapes my lips.
“You like that,” Adrian whispers.
An involuntary laugh escapes.
“Who wouldn’t?” My voice is strained.
He laughs too, and I feel his body relax the slightest bit. His lips run over the back of my neck, and I shiver. He starts stroking my cock while he kisses the back of my neck, and he keeps it up until a steady stream of precum makes my dick all slippery.
I don’t expect it, but then those same slippery fingers that were around my cock prod at my entrance.
I stiffen from sheer surprise, Adrian stills behind me, and neither of us seems to breathe.
“You’ve done it before, right?” he asks then.
I let out a startled laugh.
“More than once,” I assure him, still laughing.
He bumps the back of my head with his forehead.
“You got all tense.”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t expect you to… do that.”
“Do that?” he repeats. “What? Put my finger inside you?”
“Yeah.”
Like… he does get why I’m surprised, right? He has to.
“You asked me to put my dick inside you,” he says, almost conversationally now. How is it that I’m the one feeling totally off balance here?
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?” he asks. “Both are attached to me.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “It just is. Look, will you just do it already?”
I’m not used to this. Sex is something impersonal, not this . Not intimate and not something where you can chat and laugh. This kind of sex makes me feel way out of my element.
His finger is still inside me, by the way. Has been throughout this whole conversation.
“How is a finger more intimate than my cock?” he asks.
He’s going to be the death of me.
“Well, the one I prefer inside me isn’t, for one thing,” I snap.
He crooks the digit in reply, and I suck in a breath. His teeth graze my earlobe.
I give up and let him do his thing while I force myself to relax.
His touch almost seems curious now. My toes curl on the hard, cold stone floor. My asshole is getting way too sensitive while he explores, and my dick is painfully hard.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, he grips my hips, and then his cock is prodding at my entrance.
It’s slow going when he starts to work himself inside me.
I pant into my arms and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Dyl?” he says, uncertainty ringing in his voice.
“Spit. Make it wet.”
He hesitates again, but then he does just that. Warm saliva hits the crack of my ass and slides down. It’s another sensation on my already oversensitive skin.
I bite down on my lip. His cock slips in another inch.
I’m panting loudly from the effort of keeping still and relaxing my muscles.
“More,” I say in a choked voice.
He spits again.
Inch by slow inch, he works himself inside me.
“Fuck.” I breathe out when he bottoms out.
He starts to pull out almost immediately, but I grab his hip.
“Stay still. Let me…” I close my eyes and wait while my body adjusts.
Every now and then Adrian’s hips twitch, and he lets out a small moan. He leans his forehead against the nape of my neck, and his hot breaths waft over my skin.
“I’m okay,” I say.
He pulls out an inch and pushes back in. Slowly. His whole body strains with the effort, and I want to sob because the quivering muscles while he’s trying his fucking hardest to hold back just make me love him more, and I can’t do that.
“Move,” I say, desperate for a distraction from my own mind. “Move!”
He does. He pulls all the way out and slides back in on the next breath.
He starts fucking me. Slow and shallow thrusts at first, that grow deeper and more intense over the next few minutes.
His mouth goes to the side of my neck, and he sucks. I turn my head, and our lips meet, wild and hungry. He wraps his arm around my chest and starts fucking me in earnest. His hips set a punishing rhythm, slamming into my ass from behind, over and over again.
My chest heaves and sweat runs down my back.
My mind is a beehive of half-formed thoughts, and my throat is tight with words I cannot—will not—let out.
“Dyl,” Adrian gasps from behind me.
His fingers fumble for my dick, and then he’s stroking me in time with his thrusts. I open my eyes and watch his hand work me over while his cock is balls deep in my ass. He fucks me harder and harder until we’re both shaking and mindless with need.
I come with a breathless gasp, hips jerking, collapsing against the wall from Adrian’s weight when he slams into me with a loud shout. My ass clenches around Adrian’s cock while he empties himself inside me.
He’s still inside me when I start to come down from the high of the orgasm.
My body is wrung out and covered in sweat and spit and cum.
It gets very silent and still over the next… however long we stand there like that.
Adrian’s cock slips out of me, and I bite back a whimper.
“Dyl?” he says softly.
I swallow down the errant emotions and feelings. I’ve lost everything already. The only thing left is my pride, and if he tells me this was a mistake and was never supposed to happen and he doesn’t know what he was thinking… there won’t be anything left of me.
I pat his thigh. “Thanks. I needed that.”
He’s completely silent.
“You’re welcome,” he finally says. There’s a dryness to his voice, but otherwise he sounds normal.
He’ll be relieved in a little bit. Who the hell wants to have an awkward conversation about screwing your best friend because of a terrible combination of adrenaline and a storm and the insanity of being stranded on a desert island for over a year?
Nobody, that’s who. It’s better if we just treat this as a thing that happened. Nothing more, nothing less.
We get dressed in silence, but it’s not a terrible one. Just a silent one.
“You think this storm is ever going to blow over?” I ask once we’re both wearing pants again (wet and uncomfortable) and shirts (damp and cold).
“I’ve never seen a storm that doesn’t end,” he says reasonably.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
I clamp my mouth shut. There is a first time for everything. We had one of those firsts about five minutes ago.
We fall silent again and listen to the storm rage outside.
I can’t believe we did this. I can’t believe it.
And I don’t know what kind of person it makes me that I don’t regret any of it. That I would do it all over again if given the chance.
Guilt? Shame? I have none.
But then, I’m a thief.
Adrian’s not.
And I don’t know what this will do to him.
Because of what we did.
To Freya.
I never should have kissed him, but that never is a hollow rumination. If we went back in time to undo the wrongs, I would still kiss him. I would still do everything I could to lead us to this moment, just to satisfy that insatiable need for him that’s lived inside me for a decade.
It takes a long time for the storm to calm down, but eventually it passes.
We exchange a glance, wordlessly agreeing that it’s safe to go outside. Adrian starts to move, and I follow him. Just as we’re about to make it outside, I say his name.
He turns his head to look at me.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a low voice. Just to get this one thing out of the way. Once we’re outside, we’ll put everything that happened behind us.
He studies me for a long moment before he nods. “Yeah.” He says it so softly I can barely hear him over the rush of the waterfall. Adrian turns toward it, gaze unfocused and faraway. “I think so,” he adds quietly. I don’t know if I’m meant to hear that or not.
He starts to move again, but then he stops.
“It was good.” He nods again. “You were good.”
He turns around and disappears outside.
And leaves me behind, feeling messy as fuck.