Chapter 33 Stefan #2
I go willingly. Greedily, even. Desperately.
Opening my mouth wide to take him in, barely giving myself a moment to adjust. Then I’m pushing further, forcing him to the back of my throat.
We both groan, and I pull back up, until only his tip is in my mouth, sucking and licking it with everything I have, reveling in the salty tang of his flavor, the heat radiating off him warming my mouth from the inside.
He gives me a couple minutes to adjust, to play, to enjoy, before his hand tightens on my hair, and he pushes me back down, thrusting up at the same time. He goes slowly enough that I’m ready, but too quickly for me to manage any finesse, as he shoves himself down my throat.
There’s a moment when the gag reflex sets in, and my eyes tear up. I force myself through it, and then he’s lodged balls deep in my mouth, and I roll my eyes up to meet his, telling him how much I’m loving this without words.
His smile tells me he understands, and he pulls my head back off, lifting me partially off his cock, before slamming me back down again. It’s rougher this time, more abrupt. Perfect. As always, exactly what I didn’t know I needed, but was desperate for.
In this position, he can’t really fuck my mouth without hurting himself, so he directs my head instead. I go willingly, letting him use me however he wants to. We both revel in the slap of our bodies hitting every time he bottoms out on my lips, in the harsh tugs that pull me back up.
Too soon, though, he’s pulling my head all the way off him, gasping for breath. “No.” I struggle, wanting him back in my mouth, but his hands are firm in my hair.
“Can’t,” he manages, breathing as hard as I am. “I’ll come.”
“I want you to come.” I’m not fighting his grip, not really, but I am pulling against it, yanking at my own hair as I try to lower myself back onto him.
“I know, baby.” He pulls me back further, until my neck is stretched back, away from him, and I look straight into his eyes. “But you said you wanted me inside you.”
Oh, right. I did say that. In the moment, though, I don’t think that’s what I want anymore. “You are inside me, if you’re in my mouth,” I point out, trying to be reasonable, to out-logic him.
He rewards me with a grin. “Pretty sure that’s not what you meant.”
“Please?” I give him my best puppy-dog eyes, but it only makes him laugh. He knows me too well.
“Next time.” He lets go of my hair, sitting back with a tiny sigh.
His hip is hurting him. I can tell by the lines around his mouth.
We did too much sight-seeing today. When I’d told him I wanted him pounding into me, I’d meant it.
But now I can see it’s not what’s best for him, and it doesn’t seem as appealing. I refuse to hurt Evan.
“Can I ride you, then?” I’d love to finish sucking him off, even after the time I’ve had to come back to my senses, but he’ll be stubborn about it.
His return smile almost drowns out the pain lines. He nods toward the bedside table next to me. “Lube and condoms are in there.”
I take a few minutes to prep, and he watches, lying back on the bed, that smile still playing over his lips.
He likes to watch almost as much as he likes to do it himself, but I didn’t give him an option this time.
He’s already done too much today. So, I put on a show, letting myself revel in the burn with each new finger, making sure he can see my cock jump every time I pass over my prostate.
When I’m nearly ready, and I’ve sheathed and slicked him up as well, I don’t take my time.
I want the burn, to feel every inch of him stretching me, fighting with my body until my body gives in.
The pain is sharp, immediate, and takes my breath away, but Evan knows me well enough by now to let me have it without argument.
I'm complete, once he’s fully inside me. The burning gives way almost instantly to pleasure, even before I’ve moved on him. Just having him inside me is so fucking amazing it takes my breath away. Every single time.
He pulls my head down for a kiss, and I respond, wanting it as much as he does.
And when I start to move, pumping myself up and down his length, neither of us is as quiet as we should be, considering the wall.
But then, our neighbor was the furthest thing from silent last night, so maybe he deserves it.
Evan's hand, lubed without my noticing, wraps around my cock, between us, and the rhythm of his pumping matches my movements over him. I use it to guide my speed, until I’m bouncing on top of him as quickly and as hard as I can.
Pleasure so electric it burns me from the inside builds up, and up, and up.
With his free hand, he reaches up to pinch one of my nipples, a burst of pain shooting through me, almost sending me over.
And then, finally, he tightens his grip with both hands, a clear signal that it's time.
I let myself go, cresting over that hill, sparks shooting across my eyelids, body constricting around him.
Pleasure so intense I white out for a moment.
He groans, then follows my lead. I collapse over him, and his arms wrap around me, holding me as close as possible.
Once our breathing has leveled out, he strokes up my back, tangling his hand in my hair again. It’s not the precursor to anything, not this time. It’s just his favorite place to rest his fingers.
I reward him with a kiss on his collarbone. “That was nice.”
His chest heaves with a stifled laugh. “If that’s the best feedback you’ve got, maybe I should try again.”
I grin, unrepentant. “Promise?”
The hand in my hair tightens threateningly, and his other hand pinches my ass. “Maybe I won’t be so nice next time.”
When I lift my head to look into his eyes, his are sparkling with that same stifled laughter. “Promise?”
He finally lets the laugh loose. “Not before you win gold, baby. I can’t mark you up and then parade you in front of the world when you're in costume.”
“It would make it really obvious that I’m yours,” I cajole, only half teasing. Neither of this year’s costumes is that revealing. As long as he left my head and neck out of it, nobody would ever know. And if they did? The idea is hot enough that if I hadn't just come, I'd be getting hard again.
Though I’m not sure how well I’d skate if I couldn’t walk straight, so maybe he has a point.
“I think they’ve got the idea.” He pulls my head back to his and we kiss again. “The last set of pictures that fan posted weren’t subtle.”
“They were great, weren’t they?” I’m inordinately proud of that set of pictures.
Even if, for a minute, I was worried they’d be ground for a public indecency charge.
It hasn't been easy, going through the media roller-coaster of coming out to the public.
Of confirming that Evan is my boyfriend.
But the fans that stuck with me are all in on our relationship.
“Publicity whore.” He kisses me again.
“You know it.” I roll off him, snuggling into his side. “Oh, and we do have plans tonight.”
“Hmm?” He sounds sleepy, as if, without my weight on him, his body has collapsed back into recovery mode.
“We’re having dinner with friends.”
“Oh?” He doesn’t sound upset that I’ve made plans. He knows he doesn’t have to go with me if he’s not feeling up for company. I know he will.
“Mhm. Jacques and a few people from both our teams. Luc and Leanna. Teresa. Maybe some others.”
“Ok.” He kisses my forehead. “You know, I used to think that the Olympics were, like, serious. All these hard-core athletes hanging out in the gym all day focusing on their sport.”
I snort into his shoulder. “And now?”
“Well, it’s still a lot of hard-core athletes.”
“And their coaches.” I tickle his ribs, and he slaps my hand away. His usual response to tickling. Sometimes I can surprise a laugh out of him, though, so I keep trying. “Which reminds me. Jacques wants to hire you as a choreography consultant.