Chapter 57
Nick
Iposition Tristan on his back, slipping a pillow beneath his hips and ass.
I push his legs back and pause briefly to enjoy the beautiful view of his ass, of him. He smiles up at me, his cheeks pink and flushed, his lips swollen from kisses. He looks wrecked by my affection.
He looks perfect.
“I could do this forever,” I whisper.
“So could I,” he says blissfully.
Though Tristan hasn’t fully moved in yet, he’s unpacked most of the essentials, including the bottle of poppers that sits on the nightstand beside the bed.
He’s going to need the poppers for what I have planned. I grab it, unscrew it carefully, and hold it to one of his nostrils.
“Breathe in,” I instruct.
He does, plugging the opposite nostril. When he’s inhaled fully, I transfer the bottle to the other nostril and instruct him to inhale again.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, smiling up at me with lazy arousal. “I’m so happy right now.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
I spit onto his swollen, kiss-bitten hole and line my cock up.
He lets out a sharp gasp as I slowly slide myself in.
“Shh,” I whisper, soothing him and holding him in place as I thrust slowly, carefully, deeper into him.
With all the spit, all my precum, there’s some natural lubricant, but it’s not the same as if I were using something out of a bottle, and the last thing I want to do is actually hurt him.
The anus doesn’t produce its own lubricant, and fucking completely raw like this can be dangerous.
With that in mind, I go much slower than I normally would.
The friction feels so fucking good for me, but I want to make sure he feels good, too.
“How’s that?” I ask.
He takes the bottle of poppers again and inhales.
“It’s tight,” he gasps. “It hurts a little bit.”
“Red?”
“No, green for now. Keep going.”
I’m not even halfway inside him, and I’m in no rush.
The poppers help him loosen up a bit, and I push further inside, drawing a sharp gasp from him. He grips the sheets with a white-knuckled grasp, his head falling back as I begin to fuck him. Slowly, gently, but still firm.
Still in control.
There are many misconceptions about the domination kink.
I never want to inflict pain without consent—that is wrong, and doesn’t appeal to me at all.
It is different when Tristan and I exchange power.
We have consensually agreed that I inflict pain on him, and he will receive it, and that mutual exchange brings us both pleasure.
I spit on my cock again, using it as lube as I continue to fuck him. Spit dries quickly with friction, and I don’t want to risk hurting Tristan beyond what we’ve agreed to.
“Fuck,” he gasps as I thrust deeper into him.
“Too much?”
“It hurts, but it’s good.”
I settle into a rhythm, pumping inside him as I hold him down. He moans and whimpers, tears sliding from his tightly closed eyes, but he doesn’t tell me to stop or slow down.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, “I’m gonna cum.”