11. Cole #2
He lathers his hands in body wash, and roams them down my neck, and chest. His touch turns tender over the three ribs I broke, before trailing down my abs, and over my surgical incisions, but he stops before he reaches my cock.
Maybe this was a bad idea. What if my scar-ravaged body is a grim reminder? What if he changes his mind and decides he wants to be with a man who isn’t broken, who he can fuck hard without worrying about hurting?
Any concerns I have dissipate when his gaze sweeps up my body with open hunger. He kneels before me, and wraps his hand around my calf to stabilize my foot. Even when he’s on his knees, massaging my calves and feet, he’s in control.
It’s what I need right now. It’s what I’ve always needed. He’s the anchor tethering me to safety, the island I hide behind, shielding me from a storm. He’s the Briar faithfully keeping me afloat, even as I’m tossed about in the relentless ocean.
My blood heats as he slides his hands up the inside of my thighs with a firm touch that roots me and soothes my tension.
His pressure lifts when he reaches the angry red surgical line wrapping around my hip.
The unwelcome reminder of my injuries threatens to spoil my lust. Morgan must sense it because he abandons the clinical efficiency he used in the hospital, and massages the creases where my thighs meet my groin, thumbs trailing toward my hole.
I was already half-hard, but my cock fills to full mast as he rakes soapy fingers through the hair around the base of my cock, then gently washes my balls, tantalizing me with his touch. I exhale a huff of frustration.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need,” Morgan murmurs sinfully, and finally palms my cock.
“Fuck,” I gasp, shivering as he strokes me. “That feels so good.”
Sea glass irises frame pupils dilated wide as he catalogs every expression he draws from me.
His dark hair, nearly black now that it’s wet, hangs over his forehead, and water droplets drip from his parted lips.
He keeps stroking me as he massages around my groin, cutting my pain with pleasure, soothing tight muscles, before moving to my glutes.
I grip the rails of the shower chair, stifling pained gasps as he repositions me enough to clean between my cheeks.
When his soapy finger grazes my hole, my cock jolts, and I gasp. “It doesn’t hurt,” I rush to say. “Keep going.”
He nods, then licks my cock from root to tip, applying gentle pressure to my hole.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
He darts a glance back up and must see bliss because the finger against my hole starts to move, tracing lazy circles around my rim, toying with me. He sucks me into his mouth, but I want more. I want him to push his finger inside me and massage my prostate until I come.
But I don’t even know if that’s possible. At the hospital, I was subjected to uncomfortable and demoralizing rectal exams and internal pelvic therapy. I don’t even know if I can orgasm.
I clench my teeth and will my attention away from the past to the erotic vision of his head bobbing, and the muscles in his back flexing.
He swallows against my cock notched in the back of his throat. Pleasure coils down my length. I’m so close. My muscles tense, but that ratchets my pain higher. I try to push through it, but my erection flags. I knew it wouldn’t work.
“I don’t think I can get off.”
“Pain?” He lowers my cock to rest against my thigh with such reverence and care that I want to cry.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I’m broken.” I look away sullenly. I don’t know how to explain the shame I feel, the rage and self-loathing, the urge to claw my skin off to escape this frustrating prison of a body.
He rises onto his knees and cradles the back of my head with both hands. “Sweetheart, it’s been a month since you got hurt. You’re not broken. You just have more healing to do.” He kisses my forehead, and pulls back.
“But what if I can’t come? What if I can’t bottom anymore? What if I can’t please you?”
He shakes his head to clear it like I overwhelmed him with all my insecurities.
“Sorry,” I repeat.
“Stop apologizing and listen.”
His commanding tone arrests me. I press my lips together and nod.
“I touched you to make you feel good, not to make you come. That doesn’t always have to be the goal. I don’t need to put my dick inside you. Period. Sex is more than penetration. If you want to bottom, we can work our way up to it, but don’t you dare do it because you think I need it.”
“I want it for me.” That preference hasn’t changed, just because my body changed. I love being filled. I need it. Prostate orgasms have always done a lot more for me, and I love coming hands-free. He knows that too, but I appreciate him leaving that goal up to me.
“Then we’ll get you there, but there’s no pressure from me, and you can change your mind anytime. All those tests showed you have normal blood flow and function, so it should work. Zarah said there are plenty of treatment options if you struggle, right?”
I nod glumly. “Right.”
“Remember how I took care of you when I fucked you the first time?” Velvet slips into his voice.
He slides his palm up my thigh. “You were just as impatient then, just as hard on yourself. But I was in no hurry. I loved exploring your body, finding out what made you feel good, slowly opening you up more and more.”
Heat simmers back into my bloodstream.
“I’m going to love rediscovering you all over again.” He pinches my chin and leans in, so close his lips graze mine as he says, “Trust me to help you take my cock because I’ve done it before.” He strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. “Tell me you trust me.”
Calm settles over me. “I do.”
“Good.” His tongue delves into my mouth, and traces mine tantalizingly.
All the blood that fled my cock zips right back down. He pulls back and we both watch as my cock fills, bobbing higher with each beat of my heart.
“Look at you, so responsive and sexy.” His back shields my lap from the shower’s reach, so there’s no hiding the slick pre-cum his praise summons. “How much more pre-cum can you make for me?”
My dick twitches at the suggestion, and not long after, more pre-cum oozes out from my slit.
“See. You’re so perfect, listening so well, showing me how much my words affect you.” He swipes pre-cum from my tip and rolls it between his fingers, then gathers a tendril that only severs when he licks it.
I watch on, hypnotized as he wraps his palm around the underside of my cock, keeping our view unobstructed, and milks another tendril of pre-cum, then leads my fingers down to scoop it up.
He guides my hand up to my mouth. “Open.” Then he dips my own fingers inside my mouth and paints my tongue with my pre-cum.
My mouth salivates, my thoughts turn fuzzy around the edges as he uses my body as an extension of his.
“Suck.”
I relax into submission, and do as he says.
“See how delicious you taste?”
I nod, short and stilted, just enough to answer without breaking the seal because he didn’t tell me to stop sucking.
He takes down the handheld shower attachment, and kneels before me again.
Starting with my traps, he gives me a soothing massage at close range.
I tilt my head back and hum. Water cascades down my front, licking at my nipples.
His other hand returns to my cock. He’s not stroking.
It’s not rhythmic. There’s no goal beyond exploration.
My eyes fall closed as I melt under the heat and steam, giving myself over to the sensations rippling through me, still mindlessly sucking.
“Sweetheart?”
I open my eyes.
He takes my fingers out and holds his palm in front of my mouth. “Spit.”
When I do as he asks, he diverts the water away from my body, uses my spit for lube, and nudges his finger against my rim. He slowly presses in, stopping before he breaches the tight ring of muscle, and cups his hand in front of my mouth again. I don’t spit until he tells me to. I’m his marionette.
“Go ahead,” he says.
Once I’ve complied, he spits into his palm, mixing our saliva together, then pushes his finger inside.
It stings a little, but I know he won’t hurt me, and I’m grateful as hell that he didn’t ruin the moment by leaving for lube.
While his finger steadily enters me, he drifts the shower head southward, teasing around my cock and balls.
His finger grazes my prostate. Ecstasy echoes through me. His dilated pupils flare wider. “Take a deep breath, and keep your eyes on me.”
I do, expanding my lungs fully. He edges the shower head closer and roams over the lower half of my cock, raining pleasure everywhere water touches, while avoiding my sensitive head. I exhale a long moan.
“That feels so…”