12. Shane #6
My hands found Patrick’s. My fingers feathered up his arm until I reached his biceps, holding them in a merciless grip, and his fingers went to my throat. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t even domination. It was only a level of intimacy that could be born out of a whole lot of trust.
I bared my neck for him a little more, digging my fingers into his arms while he tightened his hands around my throat.
He kissed me, sweat dripping from his brow and into my face, his cock sliding into me just the way I needed.
The tip pressed hard against my prostate over and over again.
And Patrick’s years of fooling around made him such an ideal lover that it never crossed my mind to hold his past against him.
I adored the things he knew. And he knew when to speed up and when to slow down.
He knew, without me telling him, that he was pushing me to my limit, and he didn’t try to push himself any deeper than that.
Instead, he hurried up, filling my body with sensations I could hardly process, then slowing all the way down, making me focus on this brilliant, breathtaking feeling of his dick reaching for my prostate, rubbing against it, pressing it, pressuring it until the sensation was such that I felt like an overflowing dam. I felt like I was about to burst.
“Fuck,” I panted. “Just like that. Please. Just…a little more.” And he did exactly that. For all the flashiness in the rink and fancy moves, Patrick had nothing to prove to anyone here. He didn’t need to go above and beyond. He just did what made me feel the best.
My face rippled with pain and pleasure as he brought me close to the climax, keeping me there for a few heartbeats longer before the tension simply snapped.
It buzzed through me like a bare wire, surging through my whole body with a single end in mind.
Every part of me twisted and coiled, lit up as if I were made of fire.
My dick throbbed harder still. My hole clenched so hard and fast that I couldn’t control it, and I could see its effect on Patrick’s beautiful face.
The heat of my cum sprayed my stomach and chest just as I reached between us to hold my cock. It spurted continuously after hours and days of teasing and running away, of being on the edge even when I wasn’t hard and horny.
I came messily, almost embarrassingly so, and the world spun around me while I was afloat, in an entirely different realm.
Patrick’s eyebrows contorted harder the longer I failed to make my hole relax. Did it hurt? Did he enjoy it? His eyes rolled upward, and he cried for God, telling me he was coming.
His throbbing dick buried deep into me sent ripples of tingles and shivers through the rest of my body. He came hard, shuddering all over, sweaty and glorious, and smiling like he didn’t have a regret in the world.
I had never seen someone smile while coming. Not in a million videos. I had never seen someone so genuinely joyful in that moment of barest intimacy.
His arms trembled. His legs shook. His abs rippled restlessly with electric tension. And as he pulled his dick out and slipped the condom off—his dripping cum left a beautiful trail along my left thigh—he kept the smile on.
He tossed the condom onto a towel at the edge of the bed and crashed next to me, pulling me tight against his sweaty body.
There wasn’t an inkling, not even a hint, that he might have changed his mind after coming.
Whatever that clarity they spoke of was, it had no room here.
I was as far from clearheaded as I had ever been.
Not horny anymore, but drunk on lust and glory we had just shared.
He held me, his face buried into the crook of my neck. I could feel his smile without having to look.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
“Funny? Nothing,” he said. “I’m just…fuck, I just did it with a guy.”
I tensed a little. Clarity? Is that you?
But Patrick lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “And not just any guy. The best guy. You.”
His words sparked in me something that felt oddly similar to what it felt like when he put his tongue against my hole. New and bold and beautiful.
“How do you feel after…the first time?” he asked.
“I…” I’m alright. I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek. Did I want to be cool at the expense of being honest? No. Not with Patrick. “I’ve never felt this good in my life, Patrick.”
He exhaled with such relief that I sent a thankful prayer to any god listening for making me choose honesty.
He leaned in, slamming his lips against mine like we were at the peak of passion and kissing me for a long while.
When he pulled back, he was still smiling.
“I was afraid I’d freak out. Or hurt you.
Or that you’d want it the other way around, and I’d freak out again. Fuck, this was lucky.”
I nodded. Doing it the other way around was an interesting idea but not one I would have leaped on. “Lucky.”
He kissed me again, softly, then hopped out of the bed. He dragged me with him, still half-hard and covered in cum. “Let’s shower together. I wanna see you covered in foam.”
I barked out a laugh. Hadn’t we just had sex? If he was insatiable, I was twice as lucky as I’d thought.
It didn’t take asking me twice to get me to follow.