Chapter Thirteen Fault Lines #3
A single finger invaded Eli’s ass, sliding in steady and unyielding, sensing the flutter and yield as Eli relaxed.
Lucas hooked it, grazing that inner bundle of nerves, sending Eli’s frame into a spasm, profanities tumbling out.
“Such a snug hole for me. I’ll stretch you wide, have you pleading for my dick.
” He pushed in a second digit, spreading them wide with rough twists, loosening the hot channel while his other hand clamped Eli’s thigh, keeping him splayed like an offering.
Eli’s pelvis bucked, seeking the sting, the stretch—the intensity of Lucas’s stare, brimming with tenderness amid the relentless prep.
Perspiration dotted Eli’s forehead, his torso rising and falling rapidly as Lucas thrust a third finger in, pumping swift and deep.
“You belong to me,” Lucas breathed, bending to press a kiss to Eli’s quivering quad, a gentle foil to the savage drive of his fingers.
“Every part. Exposed and ruined for me.”
Eli’s reply came as a strangled sob of bliss, his shaft jerking free of attention, pre-cum dribbling over his belly.
Lucas held back no longer. He pulled his fingers out, coating his length with lube, the tip prodding Eli’s rim.
With a firm hand on Eli’s hip, he guided him to flip over, pressing his chest down into the mattress until Eli was face down, ass up, knees spread wide on the rumpled sheets, presenting himself completely.
Lucas positioned himself behind, one hand gripping Eli’s waist to steady him, the other aligning his slick cock. He eased forward—deliberate at first, relishing the way Eli’s muscle yielded around him, then drove in fully with a savage lunge that seated him balls-deep.
Eli wailed, face buried in the pillow, hands fisting the sheets as he writhed, his ass clenching around the invasion.
Agony and rapture warred on his muffled features, but his body begged harder.
Lucas paused, sheathed in that blazing clench, their exhales intertwining as he leaned over Eli’s back, cradling his jaw briefly to whisper, “Fuck yes—you love this, don’t you?
” Then he withdrew nearly all the way before slamming back, establishing a ruthless tempo that rattled the headboard.
Every drive was precise, powerful, Lucas’s hips colliding with bruising force against Eli’s cheeks.
He clutched Eli’s waist tight enough to mark, angling to nail that prostate on each invasion, transforming Eli’s cries into howls.
“Shit, you swallow me so perfectly—little slut, take it all.” The vulgarity spilled with a worship that swelled Eli’s chest even as his form fractured.
Stretches and physio paid off here; Lucas brought his right leg up and placed his foot on the side of Eli’s face, applying just enough pressure to pin him in place while he began to mercilessly pound his ass.
Eli stuffed a wad of the comforter into his mouth as he began to moan and cry out, his breathing becoming staccato from the brutal rhythm of the absolute onslaught being brought to bear on his body.
“Did I say you could fucking cry?” Lucas said in a low growl, his voice turned to gravel.
Their skin gleamed with sweat, forms gliding in a storm of desperation.
Eli’s dick flopped against the sheets below, leaking steadily, the drag of the fabric teasing it with each bury.
Lucas’s sack smacked Eli’s cheeks with wet, insistent thuds, the foot holding him down adding to the dominance, keeping Eli locked in submission.
“I’m gonna come—fuck, Lucas, keep going,” Eli panted, muffled through fabric, tears carving paths down his nose from the overload.
“Spill for me. Squeeze my cock with that hungry ass.”
The directive shattered Eli. His muscles locked, passage convulsing around Lucas as spurts of cum erupted onto the sheets, streaking hot and messy.
The vision—the vise—shredded Lucas’s restraint.
He pounded through the ripples, pursuing his climax, until with a guttural shout, he rooted deep and unloaded, pumping thick jets of seed into Eli’s depths.
Lucas slowly slumped over onto the mattress, chest sweaty and heaving.
Eli remained in place for a moment or so, breathing heavily and then slowly turned over and laid back to put his arm over Lucas’ chest feeling his heart race.
“I…” he let out a low giggle and whistled. “That was—I don’t think there’s ever going to be any topping that. Pun fully intended.” They both dissolved into breathless giggles and Lucas softly kissed the top of his head.
Eli traced idle shapes on Lucas’s chest.
“What happened to your hand?” Lucas said quietly.
Eli snorted. “I had a… moment.”
Lucas smiled, tired and full and terrified.
“Was this a moment as well?” He asked.
“I just needed to remind you what you’re missing out on.” Eli said. He meant it as a joke but a spark of hurt behind his eyes spoke volumes more.
Outside, the village settled into night.
Inside, something fragile and fierce took root—no longer just want, no longer just fear.
Something chosen.