Chapter Eighteen Orgasm Addict #3
“I believe you,” Michael said, holding Julian’s face in his hands before kissing him softly.
Julian kissed back with an amount of tenderness that was near heartbreaking.
His wasn’t the kiss of a young man who was experimenting or getting off with a bloke on a whim.
His was the kiss of a loving partner, one who intended to be there in the morning when it was all over.
“Dating” he’d told Rahul. They were dating, weren’t they? Miracle of miracles.
Julian nuzzled his nose sweetly against Michael’s. He breathed into Michael’s mouth, “Do you want to fuck me?”
I want to fuck you until you scream, Michael thought and only barely stopped himself from saying. He didn’t trust his voice not to betray him, so he only hissed, “Yes.”
It was better this way, with Julian loose and relaxed from his recent orgasm and stretched from Michael’s fingers. Michael was just now getting hard again and Julian’s offer sent blood shooting directly to his prick.
“Show me what to do,” Julian said, his voice breathy and rough.
He was so ready and willing that it made Michael’s head spin. When he’d fantasised about it, Julian had been reluctant, shy almost. But this version of him was keen, eager. It left Michael feeling off-kilter and aroused all at once.
After putting the cigarette out in the heavy glass ashtray on his bedside cabinet, he fumbled blindly in the drawer until he produced a sheet of condoms. Julian eyed them with a sort of nervous excitement.
Michael manhandled him onto his stomach, lifting his hips until they were raised off the mattress and his arse was deliciously splayed in front of him.
The welcoming pink pucker of his arsehole made him salivate.
He could hardly wait to bury himself in that tight heat.
The vein along the side of his cock pulsed with the need to be inside him.
He sheathed himself in the latex of the condom and squeezed out a ridiculous amount of lube onto it and Julian’s entrance. Julian flinched a little at the cold of the lubricant but soon relaxed again, his head buried in the fold of his arms.
Kneeling between Julian’s spread thighs, it was all Michael could do not to push right into him, fuck him hard and fast and mercilessly until achieving his own release.
God, just the thought of it made his balls tighten.
But he didn’t want to hurt him. He wasn’t going to hurt him.
He repeated it in his mind like a mantra.
He was in control. He could stop himself from going too far.
Because he cared for Julian. He wanted him in his bed, just like this, every night for the foreseeable future.
And hurting him would end all that. He was in control and he wasn’t going to let that happen.
He had to breathe deeply and repeatedly remind himself of that as he knelt there, so close to his desire, with the darkness roiling in his belly threatening to spill over.
Instead, he worked two fingers into Julian once again, this time focusing on stretching him as much as possible and avoiding his prostate so as to not get him off too quickly.
He took his time, an almost torturous amount of time, to quench his own desire into a manageable ember and not an overwhelming blaze that would destroy Julian as soon as he came in contact with it.
By the time he finally added that third finger, Julian’s hips were keeping pace with his movements, pushing back against him and seeking out contact.
“Michael, I --” he choked out against the pillows. “Please.”
Unable to stop himself any longer, Michael lined up the aching head of his cock with Julian’s pliant entrance and pushed inside.
He didn’t have the wherewithal to go slow.
He plunged into him right up to the hilt, regardless of his massive girth stretching Julian to the breaking point even after his careful preparations.
“Fuck -- Michael -- Jesus fucking Christ,” Julian swore, one hand flying up to grip the headboard.
Hot. Tight. So fucking good. Michael’s thoughts ground to a halt.
His entire existence whittled down to one single point of contact where his cock was squeezed inside Julian’s delicious arse.
All he could do was groan, long and low, like some kind of animal in heat.
It felt so good he nearly came right then and there, but he bent forwards and bit down on Julian’s shoulder, breathing through his nose until the explosive pleasure passed and settled into a more manageable hum.
With his regaining consciousness, he had the care to ask, “All right?”
“Y-yeah,” Julian squeaked through a constricted throat. “Just -- keep going, yeah?”
Michael didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out enough to make a difference before pushing back.
Then again. And again. Each time was more incredible than the last. He wasn’t going to last at this pace.
He reached under Julian and took his erection in hand, pumping him in time with his thrusts and trying to angle his hips downwards to find the right spot, the one he knew would make him --
“Fucking fuck Christ!” Julian swore loudly, hips pushing back against Michael’s. “Yeah,” he cried, voice high and reedy. “Yeah, there. Right there. God, again. Please. Like that, Michael. Please.”
Michael was helpless against that begging.
He fucked him like his life depended on it, hips pistoning as he made sure to hit him just right with every thrust. The room echoed with Michael’s heavy panting, the wet slapping sound of his balls against Julian’s arse, and Julian’s almost pained cries of pleasure.
His mouth ran a mile a minute, every word as filthy and arousing as the last.
“Fuck, Michael, you’re so -- God, it’s so good. Don’t -- Oh God, Michael, you’re so big, I -- Fuck, I’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Jesus Christ, fuck me, Michael, fuck me, fuck --”
His prattle choked off, entire body tensing like a bowstring, and then the warm wetness exploded over Michael’s fist and his insides gripped Michael so hard it made him see stars.
His forehead fell onto Julian’s back as his orgasm barrelled through him like a speeding juggernaut.
He felt it from his balls to his toes to the tips of his ears.
It was like an exorcism, with every sin being forcibly expelled from his body.
The world bent in on itself, as if his climax was the singularity and all existence was being swallowed up with it.
He gasped suddenly, realising that he’d forgotten to breathe.
As oxygen and blood once again began circulating through his body, he came to enough to pull out of the body beneath him, tie off and dispose of the condom.
He flopped down on the bed, every muscle in his body pleasantly sore and utterly exhausted, and he couldn’t help grinning up at the ceiling.
He’d done it. He’d come close a few times, but he never lost control.
He’d conquered his inner demons, he’d mastered restraint.
Long gone were his boyhood days of letting himself be swept away by passion.
He felt a great weight, born from years of fear, finally lifted from him.
He was free now to indulge to his heart’s content.
And his heart craved nothing but Julian.
He realised then that he hadn’t heard from the normally quite vocal Julian in some time, and he rolled onto his side to look at him.
Julian remained in the same position, arse up and face buried in the pillows. Michael felt a small, unfamiliar twinge of concern. He’d thought he’d managed to hold himself back but maybe he hadn’t after all. Tentatively he asked, “All right there?”
“Christ,” Julian exclaimed, muffled by the pillows. “Why isn’t everybody bloody gay then?”
Michael laughed, loud and surprised. He grabbed Julian by his narrow waist and pulled him to his chest. Julian threw an arm and a leg over Michael, tucking his chin into the hollow of Michael’s shoulder. Michael could feel his breath against his neck, ragged at first, then gradually slower.
“I’d do that again,” Julian said at last, voice sleep-slurred.
Michael smiled, too tired to laugh, and tugged the duvet over them both to ward off the November night chill. How’s that for getting in his knickers then, Rahul?