13. Chapter Thirteen #7
I peek from under my arm as he reaches for the bedside table.
His hand disappears into the drawer and comes back with a bottle of lube and a foil packet.
My stomach flips. I swallow, my throat clicking, watching as he pops the cap and pours lube into his palm.
His eyes come back to mine, holding, the grin is gone now, replaced by focus and hunger.
I jump when his hand returns between my legs, his slicked fingers spreading the lube over my hole, circling, the cool gel making me clench involuntarily. The sensation is new and foreign and sends sparks up through my pelvis.
“Don’t worry.” His voice drops and gentles, reassuring despite the way his eyes burn. “I know what I’m doing.”
Before I can respond he bends down, his other hand gripping the base of my cock, and takes me into his mouth.
“Fuck—”
My hands fist in the covers, my hips bucking up off the bed. His mouth is hot, so hot, his tongue pressing flat against the underside of my cock as he sinks down, and at the same time he pushes a finger into me.
The dual sensation makes my brain short-circuit.
His finger is slick and careful, working past the first ring of resistance, sliding in to the knuckle while his mouth works my cock, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks.
I groan, my head falling back. He bobs his head, taking me deeper, his tongue doing something wicked along the vein on the underside, his finger starts to move inside me, slowly, in and out, stretching, coaxing.
A second finger joins the first. The burn makes me hiss, but he times it with a swallow around my cock that takes him to the back of his throat and the pleasure drowns out everything else.
My legs fall open wider, my feet sliding on the sheets.
Ryowoon takes the invitation, pressing deeper, scissoring his fingers, working me open as he bobs and sucks and uses his tongue until I can’t tell pleasure and the stretch apart.
He crooks his fingers.
I gasp so hard my chest seizes, my hips snapping up off the bed, a bolt of pleasure shooting from the base of my spine to the crown of my skull.
He doesn’t stop. He presses into that spot again and again, rubbing, while his mouth works me relentlessly, his throat swallowing around my cock, his lips sealed tight.
The pressure builds and builds in my gut, coiling tighter with every stroke of his fingers, every pull of his mouth, and I’m climbing fast, too fast.
I grab at him, my fingers tangling in his wet hair, my voice cracking.
“Ryowoon, wait—”
I come. It barrels into me, my back arching off the bed, a broken cry slipping out of my throat as my cock pulses into his mouth and Ryowoon swallows around me, takes all of it, his fingers still buried inside me as my body clenches and shakes through the aftershocks.
I’m panting when it’s over, my chest heaving, my legs trembling, already dazed with it. Ryowoon pulls off my cock and straightens, wiping the back of his hand across his lips with an expression of pure satisfaction that makes me want to hit him and kiss him in equal measure.
I watch through hazy, half-lidded eyes as he tears the foil packet open with his teeth.
He rolls the condom on, his cock flushed and straining, and pours more lube, slicking himself with a few long strokes that make the tendons in his forearm stand out.
He kneels between my legs and his gaze drops to me, spread out beneath him, spent and still trembling, and a look crosses his face, unguarded.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
I nod.
“Good.” His voice is rough, tight with restraint. He grips the back of my thigh, pushing my leg up and back, opening me to him. “Cause I’m going to need you to hold on.”
He lines himself up, and then he covers my body with his, his chest pressing against mine, his weight settling over me, and he kisses me.
Kisses me deep and slow and thorough, his tongue sliding against mine, tasting of salt, of me.
His hand cradles the side of my face. I melt into it, my hands finding his shoulders, the muscles bunched and trembling under my palms.
He pushes in.
My mind goes blank.
Pain lances up my spine with sudden, searing heat, my body clamping down against the intrusion.
I want to cry out, want to twist away from it, but Ryowoon’s mouth catches the sound, his lips soft against mine, his tongue stroking slow and soothing, keeping me grounded, pulling my focus to the kiss even as my body resists.
He swallows my whimper and gives me his breath, his teeth catching my lower lip gently, tugging, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.
And all the while he pushes deeper, slowly, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, his cock stretching me open in ways I’ve never felt before.
He feels bigger than he looked. A lot bigger.
Every inch gained makes my eyes sting and my lungs seize, my body struggling to take him, the stretch burning through my core.
I grip his shoulders and feel my nails bite into his skin, my jaw clenching against his mouth, my hips trembling where they’re pressed against his.
When he finally bottoms out, his hips flush to mine, I’m shaking.
My fingers dig into his arms, my body wrapped around him, tears blurring my vision from the sting, the burn, the fullness.
God, the fullness. He’s everywhere, inside me, above me, around me.
I feel stuffed to the point of breaking, my lungs compressed, my pulse throbbing where our bodies are joined, and yet beneath all of it, beneath the pain and the overwhelming stretch, there’s another feeling.
A rightness that burns through my bones and makes me feel alive in a way nothing else in my twenty-three years ever has.
Ryowoon groans against my neck, his face buried there, his lips pressing to the tendon, my jaw, the spot below my ear. His hips tremble with the effort of holding still and his voice comes out gutted.
“Fuck, you feel too fucking good around me, Seyeon.”
I squeeze his bicep. Feel the muscle flex under my hand.
“Move.”
He does.
The first thrust makes me gasp, my back bowing.
I feel it all the way up, from where he’s buried inside me to the base of my skull.
The second sends my hands scrambling for purchase on his slick shoulders.
By the third I’m rolling my hips to meet him, my body finding his tempo, chasing it, my legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him deeper.
It hurts. It burns. And it feels so good I’m losing my mind.
Every thrust forces a sound out of me, high, breathless sounds I stop trying to hold back.
I move with him, my hips lifting off the bed to meet each stroke, greedy for it, begging for it without words and then with them, a broken string of more, yes, there, please, fuck, tumbling from my lips between gasps.
Ryowoon’s pace builds, his hips snapping against mine, his breath hot against my throat.
His hand slides between our slick bodies and wraps around my cock, already hard again, aching.
He strokes me in time with his thrusts and the sensation collapses in on me from both directions, the fullness inside and his fist around me.
I claw at him now, my nails raking down his back, his shoulders, anywhere I can reach.
He crashes his mouth over mine and I bite his lip, taste copper, and he growls into the kiss, his hips driving harder, his hand twisting on the upstroke, and I’m sent tipping over the edge.
I come shouting his name, or trying to, the sound muffled against his mouth, my cock pulsing between us, my body clenching down around him so tight that Ryowoon breaks from the kiss with a curse, his rhythm stuttering.
He buries himself deep one last time, his hips grinding against mine, and I feel him tremble, feel the groan through his chest as he comes, his arms shaking where they hold him above me.
He presses me into the mattress, his full weight settling over me. His forehead drops against mine. Our breathing fills the room, ragged and intertwined.
I open my eyes.
His are already open, inches from mine. Dark and liquid and free of every wall he’s ever built.
I can see it in them, the same thing that’s churning through me right now, the understanding that we’ve crossed something that can’t be uncrossed.
That this, whatever this is between us, whatever it’s been building toward since we were six years old stealing popsicles from an old woman’s freezer, has a name now.
Has a shape. And it can’t be put back, can’t be unlearned, can’t be forgotten now that we know what it feels like.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to another person in my life.
It’s the best feeling in the world.