Chapter 35 #2
And then, without warning, he lifts me effortlessly, one strong arm under my back, the other beneath my thighs, pulling me into his chest like I weigh nothing.
A gasp escapes me as my arms instinctively loop around his neck.
He’s carrying me. Cradling me. Holding me like I’m something precious.
My heart pounds as we leave the bathroom and move through the soft shadows of his bedroom.
I can feel the steady thud of his heart beneath my palm, the hard length of him pressing between us, and the way he keeps glancing down at me like he’s already imagining what he’s going to do once he gets me on the bed.
And I want it all.
***
If someone had told me months ago that I’d end up here in this room, in this bed, legs parted and completely bare beneath the man I once saw in an alley, blood on his knuckles and danger carved into every inch of his frame, I would have laughed in disbelief.
But here I am naked, flushed, and completely undone beneath him.
Alex kisses me like he’s worshiping every inch of my skin, like he’s trying to imprint himself into my very bones.
Every touch, every brush of his lips is soaked in a passion so consuming it makes my chest feel too tight, too full.
I feel like I might burst not just from pleasure, but from the way he makes me feel seen and beautiful.
My cock is hard again despite having a mind-blowing orgasm from what he had done to me with his tongue in the bathroom earlier.
His tongue circles one of my nipples, slow and wet, and I let out a broken sound, my back arching.
Then his teeth graze it, just a little, sending a jolt straight through me as his other lubed fingers tease my rim, the touch is maddening—not quite inside, just circling the hole like he did with his tongue, coaxing out wave after wave of desperate need.
And when his thumbs start massaging a place just in between my balls and hole with a gentle stretching pressure, I shiver and let out a gasp, clutching the sheets tightly.
fuck, I did not know the perineum was this pleasurable.
He hums against my skin like he feels it too, like the reactions he’s pulling out of me are unraveling something inside him as well.
My face is burning. I know I’m flushed all the way to my ears, but I can’t care.
He’s still giving my chest soft, open-mouthed kisses, his breath hot, his tongue lingering like he’s savoring me. And then, slowly, he begins to move upward again, dragging his mouth along the line of my collarbone, up the curve of my neck.
By the time he reaches my lips, my heart is racing. My whole body is trembling.
And when he kisses me, it’s soft, deep, and unhurried
“Do you want my fingers inside you, baby?” he murmurs against my mouth, voice so low it rumbles in my chest.
I nod, desperate and pleading, unable to speak, because my body is already answering for me.
Alex sees it. He always does. A slow smile curves his lips, tender but laced with heat, and then I feel his touch firm and deliberate as his finger presses into me with a slow, careful thrust.
I gasp, my breath catching as I cling to his shoulder, nails digging in as pleasure ripples through me.
He moves with such ease, drawing back just slightly before easing in deeper again, and again and again — until I can’t think of anything else but the rhythm of him.
His breath is warm against my cheek, his mouth brushing mine, offering encouragement without words.
My hips rise to meet his hand in quiet desperation.
I’ve gotten used to the way he touches me like this.
It doesn’t sting anymore, since he does this to me almost every day, and still…
somehow, it feels new every time. Like he keeps finding parts of me I didn’t know were sensitive and could come alive like this.
When he adds a second finger, a sharp breath escapes me, turning into a soft whimper. My eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed.
“Yes, baby,” he murmurs, voice warm and low and he begins to thrust deeply “I love seeing you like this. Love how you open for me.”
His words make my stomach flip, and I gasp his name in response, needing more, needing him as he continues thrusting inside me.
“You think you can take a third finger, krasivy?” he asks, voice husky, eyes searching mine.
“Yes,” I breathe, barely able to hold the word together. “Yes, Alex. Please.”
And when he eases it in — slow and careful I dig my nails deeper into his shoulder at the sting and feel myself stretch, but his lips are already on mine, soothing and grounding, his other hand stroking along my side in a silent assurance.
The sting fades into heat as his fingers hit my prostate, and it turns into something that steals the breath right out of my lungs.
I arch into him with a desperate whimper, my heart racing as I cling tighter to his shoulders, letting him take me apart piece by piece with nothing but his hands and the way he looks at me like I’m everything.
“You can take my cock now, baby?” he asks, voice rough and low, like it’s scraping out from his chest.
I swallow hard. My throat’s dry, my body trembling, but not from fear but from the weight of want.
I nod.
He searches my eyes for a while, then he kisses the tip of my nose, and pulls his fingers out gently, making me shiver at the loss.
He pushes himself up on the bed, kneeling between my legs, and I feel exposed again, flushed and aching.
His eyes move down, lingering between my open thighs, and when his gaze returns to mine, it’s nothing but heat.
I have to look away. I can feel how red my face is, how breathless I am under his eyes, but my body wants him more than it’s ever wanted anything.
He reaches the side of the bed, muscles shifting as he grabs something from the nightstand. The crinkle of foil draws my attention and then I see it. A condom. He tears it open with his teeth, casual and practiced.
Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out, fingers brushing his wrist.
He stills immediately. His gaze meets mine.
“Changed your mind?” he asks softly.
There’s no push in his voice. No frustration. Just space, like he’s offering me the choice again, letting me breathe.
I shake my head quickly. “No… It’s not that, I just—”
The words jammed in my throat, making heat rush up my neck.
“I don’t want you to use it,” I mutter.
His brow lifts, not in shock, but in something quieter. Warmer.
A slow burn starts in his eyes. “No?”
I scramble to explain, cheeks burning.
“I mean… unless you want to, of course. I just thought… You said you haven’t been with anyone since you met me. So I figured—fuck, are you negative?”
He watches me for a long moment, like he’s reading something beneath my fumbling words. My chest tightens. I hate how uncertain I sound. I’ve never said anything like this to anyone.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he tosses the condom to the floor.
“I haven’t been with anyone since I met you,” he says simply. His voice is low, steady, the truth heavy in it. “And yes, I’m negative.”
Relief floods through me, making me nod awkwardly.
“Great,” I squeak. The second the word leaves my mouth, I want to sink into the mattress and disappear.
He laughs — a warm, low sound, and it melts the tension that had crept into my chest. He reaches for my thigh, his hand large and warm, and drags me closer. My breath catches as he lifts my hips slightly, making my legs open more. I’m exposed and trembling.
He pours more lube into his palm, the slick sound obscene in the quiet.
I watch him as he coats himself, slow and deliberate, each stroke gliding along the thick, veiny length of cock.
His gaze drops to where my legs are parted for him, and the look on his face makes my toes curl where they’re pressed to the sheets behind him.
“I won’t lie to you,” He murmurs, his hands trailing across my thigh. “This is going to hurt. I wish I could take that from you, but I can’t.”
He presses just the thick tip against my entrance, and the contact alone sends my body into a jolt of nerves. My fingers grip the sheets tightly.
“But the pain won’t last,” soothingly. “I promise you that. I’ll make you feel good, Lucas. You just have to trust me. Let me take care of you.”
His voice is like a warm, heavy blanket, pulling me into him even as I’m trembling beneath the weight of what’s about to happen.
“I trust you,” I whisper, voice cracked, full of breathless hope. And I do. I really do.
Alex lets out a low, guttural sound, something between restraint and raw need.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “That means a lot to me, baby.”
Then, slowly, carefully, he begins to push in.
The first inch makes me cry out softly, my whole body locking up as the burn tears through me, sharp and immediate. I jam my eyes shut, choking back the sound rising in my throat. Tears well fast, blurring the edges of everything.
“Breathe, baby,” Alex whispers, his voice soft but strained. I can hear how tightly he’s holding himself back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head faintly, wanting to tell him not to be. Don’t be sorry. I want this. I want you. I force my lungs to expand, in and out, grounding myself in the sound of his voice, in the warmth of his hand on my side.
And slowly, I let go. My body eases, tension slipping just enough, and he feels it.
“There you go,” he breathes, as if it kills him to go slow. “That’s it, Lucas.”
He pushes deeper, inch by inch, until I feel more stretched, too big, too much, yet somehow…
somehow not enough. I’m shaking beneath him, and a tear escapes from my closed eyes, not from the pain, not really, but from the intensity of this all, from just how much happiness I feel that he is the one I am giving this to, that he is the one claiming me.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, every inch he gives me dragging a sound from my throat that’s somewhere between pain and need.