Chapter 4. Chris #6
His voice cracks on my name, and that’s all it takes.
My orgasm hits me like a freight train.
I come with a shout I don’t bother trying to muffle, my cock pulsing in his fist, hot streaks painting our bodies. The pleasure tears through me in waves, blinding and endless, until I’m trembling under him, gasping into his mouth.
Mads doesn’t stop. His hand keeps stroking me through it, pulling every last pulse from my cock, and his hips keep driving into me, his rhythm falling apart as he chases his own release.
“Chris,” he moans. “I’m going to—fuck, I’m—”
His hips slam into me, and then he freezes. His cock pulses inside me, and even through the condom, I feel every throb of it. His body goes rigid above me, a broken, ragged sound tearing from his throat as he comes.
A second later, he starts moving again, fucking into me through the orgasm, messy now, helpless, chasing every last second of it.
When his strength gives out, he collapses on top of me, his chest pressed to mine, his arms locking around my waist as we sink into the mattress in a sweaty heap.
He stays buried inside me, holding me under him, and neither of us moves.
For a long time, we just lie there. His breath is warm on my neck, his heartbeat hammering against my chest, and my own pulse is still racing so hard I can feel it in my fingertips.
Eventually, he shifts. His cock slips out of me, and the emptiness is sudden enough to make me let out a small, involuntary sound.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, rolling onto his side to deal with the condom.
I nod, still catching my breath, a smile spreading across my face for the absurdly simple reason that I was just fucked so well I’m not sure my bones work right anymore.
It’s been a while.
I can’t believe this was his first time fucking a guy.
Mads kisses my neck. His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together and squeezing. I lean in and kiss him, and for a few long minutes, we just stay like that, making out in the wreckage of what just happened.
Then Mads pulls back slightly, his hair a mess, his cheeks still flushed.
“Okay,” he says. “Now tell me how I did.”
I stare at him.
He looks completely serious.
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “Are you asking for a performance review?”
“Yes,” he says. “Be honest.”
“Oh my God.” My face burns, and I bite back my smile. “I don’t want to inflate your ego.”
That only makes him look more interested.
“Too late,” he says, squeezing me with both arms. “Now I need to know.”
I groan, but I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. “Fine. It was the best penetrative sex of my life.”
A grin spreads across his face. “Penetrative?”
“Yes,” I say, already regretting every word. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird.” His grin gets worse. “I’m just noticing you specified.”
“Because you’re impossible.”
“What about the other types of sex?”
“Oh my God.” I roll my eyes. “You want to win everything, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he says, without hesitation. “I’m offended I didn’t get best rim job.”
I laugh so hard I have to press my face into his chest. “You googled it today.”
“And?”
“And you don’t get a trophy for your first attempt.”
“That’s unfair,” he says. “I was very committed.”
“You were,” I admit, still laughing. “Deeply, terrifyingly committed.”
He looks pleased with that, which is so stupidly cute I almost can’t handle it.
“I’m getting that title next time,” he says.
Next time.
The words do something stupid to my chest.
I lift my head and look at him. “So you liked it?” I ask, careful despite everything.
“What, eating you out?” Mads says, giving me a half-smirk. “Very much.”
“No.” I can feel myself blushing harder. “I meant sex in general. With a guy.”
His expression changes then, the teasing fading into something softer.
“Chris,” he says, like the answer is obvious. “I liked it so much I’m trying very hard not to be embarrassing about it.”
I blink. “Embarrassing how?”
His eyes flick down between us, and only then do I notice he’s already half-hard again against my thigh.
“Oh my God,” I say, stupidly pleased.
Mads sighs, like his own body has personally betrayed him. “Yeah. So. That much.”
My heart kicks hard.
He smiles and I smile back, and he pulls me in for another kiss. When we part, his eyes are tender as he looks at me.
“So it’s still a yes?” he asks. “You still want to date me?”
“I do,” I say, without hesitation.
“Good,” Mads says, then leans in and plants a ridiculous little kiss on my nose.
For a second, I just stare at him.
Mads watches me back, the corners of his mouth twitching. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not a nothing face.”
“It was a normal face.”
“It was not.”
I sigh. “Fine. It’s just rude.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Rude?”
“To fuck me like that and then kiss my nose.” I give him a look, because apparently that should be self-explanatory. “Pick a lane.”
For half a second, he looks genuinely confused. Then he realizes what I mean and laughs, pressing his mouth to my temple.
“No,” he says after a moment. “I want both.”
Oh.
Well.
That shuts me up.