Chapter 66 Dante #2
I walk him back toward the bedroom with my mouth on his. The hoodie comes up and off between steps. At the bed I stop to stare. Lamplight on his skin, his breath coming hard, the want already plain on him.
“Lie down,” I tell him. “Let me take a good long look at you.”
He does and the sight of him stretched out and waiting nearly takes me off my feet.
I get the rest of our clothes off and come down over him.
For a while I do nothing but kiss him. His mouth, his jaw, down his chest, taking the time to fully appreciate what’s mine now.
He’s already trembling under me, hands fisting in the sheets.
“We’re not in a hurry,” I tell him against his stomach. “No one is coming. No one is leaving. I’ve got all night, and so do you.”
Then I take his hard cock in my mouth, and the sound that comes out of him goes straight through me. I take him slow, hand and mouth both. I know what makes his breath catch now, what brings his hips up off the bed, and I use every bit of it. I draw it out until he’s begging.
He spent his life not being allowed to ask for anything. Now he asks me for everything, and I intend to spend my life giving it to him.
“Dante, please—”
“Hang on a sec, baby.”
I reach for the lube, and take my time with that too. I warm a generous amount between my fingers first so the chill won’t make him flinch. Then I settle between his spread thighs and press a soft kiss to the inside of his leg, right where the skin is thinnest and most sensitive.
“Look at me,” I tell him. “If anything feels like too much, you say stop and I stop. No questions. Understood? Same rule as always.”
He nods, eyes on me. “I trust you.”
I start with one slick finger, circling the tight seal of him until the muscle softens under the steady pressure.
Only then do I press inside. He’s narrow, yielding slowly as I press in gentle circles, shallow at first, letting him feel the stretch without forcing depth.
When his breathing evens and his hips give the smallest rock toward my hand, I curl my finger, searching until I find the spot that makes his breath catch sharp.
I stay there, applying steady pressure while I add more lube, coating him thoroughly. A second finger joins the first only when he yields easily to the initial stretch. The sensation is noticeable now. I feel the resistance give millimeter by millimeter as I carefully open him.
Every time his body tightens, I pause, nuzzling and sucking the sensitive skin of his inner thigh until he relaxes again.
I refuse to rush. By the time I ease a third finger in, he’s trembling, but it’s no longer from tension.
He’s rocking down onto my hand, chasing the fullness, the soft sounds spilling out of him unguarded.
I press deep and slow, drawing out and widening each pass.
The glide is effortless now. The resistance has melted into pure warmth and the soft give of muscle that wants more rather than less. When I sink all three fingers in to the last knuckle, his body pulses around them in a welcoming rhythm instead of fighting the stretch.
I know he’s ready when I can move freely, when he’s arching into my touch. I draw them out, leaving him open and pliant. He makes a low, needy sound at the emptiness and reaches for me.
“I need you inside me tonight. Please, Dante. I want you to claim me as yours.”
“You asked me before what I was waiting on,” I say. “This is what I was waiting on. For you to be sure. For you to be all mine.”
“Can we do it bare?” he asks. “No condoms? You’re the only one who has ever touched me there. I swear. I want to feel you come inside me. I want everything.”
I’ve already thought about this a million times. I’ve always been very careful, always used condoms, tested regularly. I wouldn’t dare agree to this if I didn’t think it was safe for both of us.
“Yes, we can do that,” I say. “You know I would never put you at risk.”
I slide three fingers back in one last time, and his head tips back on a broken moan.
“You’re ready for me. Feel how open you are? That’s what my cock is going to feel like. You’re going to take me so well.”
“Hurry,” he begs.
Only then do I coat myself thoroughly. I line up, the blunt head of my cock pressing against him.
“Are you ready? Hold your legs back a little for me.”
He nods and grabs his legs.
His body yields the smallest fraction under the pressure, opening to receive the tip.
The sensation around my cock is immediate and overwhelming — far more intense than any mouth, tighter than anything I’ve ever pushed into.
I ease forward by millimeters, watching his face the entire time.
The tension gives, and then I’m sliding into him.
“You okay? Don’t hold your breath, Levi. Breathe, baby.”
“Fuck yes.”
He grips every inch of me as I sink deeper. The pressure is exquisite, almost too much, milking the head of my cock before I’ve even fully seated myself.
His body is strung taut, his hands locked on my shoulders hard enough that I will wear the prints of them tomorrow.
The sensation of him is shocking, wet and searing, his body so snug around me I can feel every minute shift of muscle as he relaxes and takes me in.
I feel my own pulse throbbing inside him, and I know he feels it too.
Then he lets out a breath that breaks in the middle and pulls me down to him.
“Still okay?” I ask, against his mouth. The urge to thrust is nearly blinding, but I don’t move, buried halfway, letting him adjust to the sheer size of me.
“Yeah.” It’s barely a word. “I’m okay. You’re fucking huge but I can take it. Keep going.”
I sink the rest of the way in one long, careful glide. The last few inches vanish into that furnace heat and I bottom out, hips flush against him, fully sheathed in the most intense place I have ever been.
The sensation punches the air out of my lungs. He is pure fire around me, gripping me tight, the friction so profound it borders on pain, the good kind that makes my vision spark at the edges.
His pulse hammers against the underside of my cock. I have never felt anything like this. Not with anyone.
Because this is my Levi, open and trusting, taking all of me for the first time.
I move inside him, holding his eyes, telling him with every stroke what I feel.
Mine. Wanted.
Every pull back drags against those clutching walls, every thrust sinks back into a liquid depth that tries to hold me forever.
He gets his legs around me and meets me, the angle shifting to hit that spot that causes his body to jerk and a broken sound to tear out of his throat.
The sounds ripping out of him now are nothing I’ve heard come out of him before. And then they’re coming out of me too.
English isn’t enough for tonight, and my first language comes up out of me from somewhere underneath a control I no longer have.
“Eres perfecto,” I murmur against his mouth, into his throat, timed to the roll of my hips. The drag of his body on my cock is maddening — perfect friction that builds with every careful stroke. “You’re perfect for me, Levi. Do you hear me? Eres perfecto. Levi… Levi.”
His hands slide up my back and grip hard, nails biting skin as I grind deeper, circling my hips so the head of my cock presses against that spot again and again.
“Eres mío ahora.” Deeper now, watching what every word does to his face while his body clenches around me.
He understands the meaning even if he doesn’t know the words.
The intensity is constant, the way he yields and then tightens as if he never wants to let me go.
“You’re mine now. Ahora eres mío. Say it back to me. ”
“Yours.” It breaks in half coming out of him. “God, Dante. Yours. Always. Please don’t leave me.”
“Te amo.” It’s out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying, and it’s the truest sentence I have ever said in either language. “Te amo. I love you. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Te amo, Levi. I love you. My Levi. You’re mine.”
His eyes fly to mine. “Say it again,” he whispers. “Please. Tell me again.”
I say it with every stroke, the two languages braided together, over and over, until it stops being words at all and becomes the rhythm itself. Eres perfecto. You’re perfect. Eres mío. You’re mine now. Te amo. I love you. Te amo. My Levi.
He takes every word the way he takes me, wide open, nothing held between us anywhere, his heels dragging me deeper, his mouth finding mine and losing it and finding it again.
The wet, raw sounds of our bodies joining fill the room. Skin on skin, the slick glide of lube and the tight clasp of him gripping me with every thrust.
“Mi amor,” I tell him, kissing the side of his mouth. “My love. That’s your name now to me. Mi amor. Say it back.”
“Mi amor,” he tries, Tennessee twang laid all over it, not one syllable where I’d put it, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
His body pulses around me in time with the words, the friction cresting.
“I love you, Dante. I love you so much. Mi amor. Mi amor. My life. You’re my everything. ”
“Let me hear you. There’s no one here but us. I want to hear every sound.”
He says the words over and over. Then he’s not making words at all, just holding on, and I feel him getting close. The rhythmic clench of his body around my cock grows stronger, more desperate.
I shift my weight onto one forearm and slide my other hand between us, wrapping my fingers around the hard, leaking length of him. He’s already slick at the tip. I use that wetness to stroke him in time with my thrusts, steady and firm, thumb sweeping over the head on every upstroke.