10. Chapter 10 #2
He moves up and down the base with a steady, maddening rhythm, and I have to break eye contact to lean my head back and let out a groan that's swallowed by the shadows of the room.
He groans back in response, a low, throaty sound that vibrates through my entire body, sucking in my balls gently and rolling them in his hot mouth with a skill that makes my toes curl.
I grip the sheets tighter, the fabric twisting in my fists as I fight to hold on, to not lose myself completely yet.
I spread my legs wider, a silent invitation that he accepts without hesitating, and he leans down further, his free hand gripping the inside of my thigh so hard it might leave a mark. I hope it does. I want to wake up tomorrow and see the evidence of this, of him, imprinted on my skin.
He lifts my leg higher and over his shoulder, the new angle opening me up completely, exposing every part of me to him.
He starts lapping up and down my length with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, the rough texture sending electric currents racing up my spine.
Each movement is calculated, designed to drive me to the edge of madness without quite pushing me over.
He takes his time, savoring every inch of me like he’s committing it to memory.
Then he goes face first, burying himself between my legs and massaging my hole with his tongue, sending sparks through every nerve ending in my body all at once.
The sensation is overwhelming, a white-hot flash of pleasure that threatens to consume me whole.
"Oh fuck," I let out, breaking the silence again. "Fuck— Please don't stop."
He doesn't. He dives deeper, his other hand working my dick with slow, steady strokes while he slowly works me open with his tongue.
The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear, pushing me closer and closer to the precipice with every passing second.
Every piercing on his beautiful face electrifies my skin as they brush against me, adding an extra layer of sensation that makes my toes curl and my back arch.
Right when I think I can't stand anymore, he stops. I feel his thumb tracing the wetness around my hole, the light touch sending shivers down my spine despite the intensity of what came before.
"Ricardo," he says again. I whip my head up so fast I see stars, the sudden movement making me dizzy with need.
"What about this?" he asks.
"Yes."
He grins, his gorgeous teeth doing something stupid to my insides, making my stomach flip with anticipation. He pours some of the lube onto his fingers, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies, and starts stretching me, taking his time to prepare me.
The feeling of him working me open is intense, stretching me slowly, driving me insane with need. He's so careful, watching my every reaction, making sure I'm comfortable even as he's pushing me to my limits.
Finally, when I'm practically begging for him to fuck me, he reaches for the condom. He tears open the packet and rolls it on, still watching me.
When he lines himself up with my entrance, the head of his dick pressing against me, I feel like I might explode right then and there. He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, "I've got you."
The first push inside is a slow burn, a delicious stretch that makes me gasp.
He's careful, giving me time to adjust, but the need in his movement is unmistakable.
I want to tell him to go faster, to take me harder, but the words get stuck in my throat.
Instead, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.
He takes the hint, his hips snapping forward with a controlled force that makes me see stars, the sudden intensity stealing the air from my lungs.
He starts slow, almost torturously so, each deliberate movement measured as if he's savoring every inch of penetration.
Then he finds his rhythm, a steady, hypnotic cadence that matches the frantic beating of my own heart.
Each thrust hits me in exactly the right spot, that bundle of nerves deep inside that sends electricity coursing through my entire body, making me cry out his name over and over.
The sound of our bodies moving together, the wet slap of skin against skin, fills the room, mixing with our ragged breaths and desperate moans.
I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead, dripping down my temples as he drives into me again and again, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. My fingernails dig into his shoulders, my legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting more, needing more.
The world narrows to just this—just us—and the exquisite, overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume me whole. It's raw and real and perfect. He's everywhere, his body covering mine, his mouth on my skin, his voice in my ear, telling me how good I feel.
"Ricardo," he groans against my skin, and the sound of my name, rough and desperate on his lips, sends a jolt straight through me.
My dick is aching, pulsing with every thrust of his hips.
I reach down around the heated length of myself, the slickness of precum making my grip easy.
I match his rhythm, stroke for stroke, the dual sensations of him filling me and my own hand working me over pushing me closer to the edge with every passing second.
It's too much, and not enough, all at once.
I can feel the pleasure building, a tight coil in my gut that's about to snap, and I know I'm close.
"Patrick, I'm gonna—" I start, but he cuts me off with a searing kiss, his tongue claiming my mouth as his hips drive into me with a renewed urgency.
The coil breaks and I'm coming, my release washing over me in a blinding wave of ecstasy.
My head snaps back, my neck arching as I cry out his name, the sound raw and ragged in the quiet of the room.
The pleasure hits me like a tidal wave, overwhelming and all-consuming, and I'm coming, my release shooting across my chest in thick, white ropes.
Patrick's forehead presses against my shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against my skin as he straightens up, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.
He gives it everything he has, his hips snapping forward with a renewed force that makes me see stars, the sound of our bodies moving together filling the room as he chases his own release.
The weight of him on top of me, the feeling of him inside me, is grounding, even as the aftershocks of my orgasm ripple through my body.
I'm floating, lost in the haze of pleasure, barely aware of anything but him and the way he's holding me like I'm the only thing keeping him anchored.
With a final, deep thrust, he groans low in his throat, his whole body tensing as he comes.
I can feel him pulsing inside me, the heat of his release even through the barrier of the condom, and the sensation sends a final shudder of pleasure through me.
His hand slides from my waist to my chest, his palm settling over my heart as he collapses against me, his body trembling.
We lie there for a long moment, tangled together, our breathing slowing, the sweat cooling on our skin.
He shifts, pulling out carefully before rolling onto his side, his arm draped possessively over my waist. I can feel the warmth of his body against mine as we catch our breath.
I turn my head to look at him, my vision still a little blurry from the intensity of what just happened.
His face is flushed, his hair messy and wild, and there's a softness there.
I reach up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, my touch lingering against his cheek. "You're amazing," I whisper.
He beams, and it's the most genuine, unguarded expression I've ever seen from him.
"Did you get it out of your system?" he asks.
I pause, my brain still fuzzy with pleasure. "What?"
He laughs, tired and warm, the sound vibrating against my skin where he's still partially draped over me. He shifts, removing his arm and rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. "This stupid, nonsensical thing you have for me. Did that help?"
I turn my head, following his gaze to the ceiling fan spinning in slow, hypnotic circles. The blades cast moving shadows across the room.
"It's not stupid," I correct.
He watches me then. He holds my gaze for a long moment before pushing himself up. The mattress dips as he moves, his weight shifting away from me. I watch as he walks toward the bathroom, the lean lines of his back silhouetted in the dim light.