Chapter 10
“You got any lube?” Trey asks, standing up. “Because we’re not doing this without it. Not your first time.”
I shake my head. Why would I have lube? I never have sex.
“No worries. I got some.” He’s already heading for the door.
“You’re going out there like that? Naked?”
He looks down at himself, then back at me. “It’s one door away.”
“You’re rock hard and covered in sweat.”
“And?” He shrugs. “Chances someone’s in the hallway right now are slim. And if they are…” He grabs the door handle. “Lucky them.”
Before I can say another word, he’s gone.
I can’t believe this guy. So bold. So fearless. Everything I’m not. And there’s a pride in it too. That he just walked into the hallway with a full erection and not a shred of shame. That he doesn’t care who knows what he’s about to do to me.
Of course, I hear it all through the cardboard wall. His door opening. A drawer sliding. The heavy tread of his feet coming back. Then he’s in my room again, bottle of lube in his hand, shutting the door behind him.
“See? No big deal.” He’s beaming.
“I’m mostly surprised you could find it so fast in that mess you call a room.”
“Oh, are we getting witty now?”
“Apparently,” I say, surprising myself. “Watching you walk naked down the hall loosened me up.”
“Funny, I thought it was my tongue that did that.” He uncaps the bottle. “Now where were we?”
“You were about to put something very large in a very small space.”
He laughs. “Damn, Nico. When you decide to let loose, you really let loose.” He squirts a line of clear gel onto his fingers and tosses the bottle on my bed. “What if it doesn’t fit?”
I take my position at the easel again, gripping the frame, pushing my ass out. Making myself vulnerable for him. “We try as hard as we can to make it fit.”
“My kind of guy.” He coats my hole with the cool liquid, then slicks his cock until it gleams under the lamplight. Every time I look at it, it seems a little bigger. But that might be because it’s about to go inside me.
“Let me do the work.” His voice has dropped, rougher now, all the playfulness gone. He positions himself behind me, one hand on my hip, the other guiding himself into place. I feel the blunt, wide head press against my slick entrance. The heat of it. The sheer, intimidating size. “Ready?”
No. “Yes.”
He presses forward. Slowly. So slowly. The pressure builds as he works the head in. My body resists in every way it can. My ass clenches, my muscles lock up. I bite my bottom lip so hard I taste copper.
“Breathe, Nico.” His warm breath on the back of my neck. “Push out against me when you exhale.”
I try to follow his instructions. My breaths are coming ragged and fast. As I exhale, I bear down like he said, and I feel myself relax just enough for the head to slip past the tight ring of muscle.
Pain and relief hit at the same time. He’s in.
He’s actually inside me. But also, what the hell?
A sharp, searing ache radiates through my whole lower body.
How is this supposed to feel good? Is an ass even designed to take something this big?
“There you go. The hard part’s over.”
I’m not convinced. I feel fragile. Like I’ll shatter if he moves.
“Talk to me, Nico. You okay?”
“I think so.”
“You think so, or you know so?”
“I don’t know. You’re so big, and I feel so…” I trail off. “Full.”
“Want me to pull out?”
I shake my head. “Just… give me a second.” The burn is starting to fade, replaced by that deep, full ache from before with his fingers, only so much more intense.
“Anything you need.” He presses his lips between my shoulder blades, then kisses along the knobs of my spine. His hands massage my cheeks, thumbs spreading me wider. “You’re doing so good.”
Slowly, I’m melting into him. Relaxing. The more he touches me, the less it hurts.
“Tell me when,” he murmurs against my skin.
“I can take more.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
He pushes in another inch. It’s still a stretch, but with my rim already open around the head, the sharp edge is gone.
I feel a dull throb, then a rush of fullness as my body makes room for him.
Another inch. More fullness. But underneath it all...
oh fuck. There. That’s actually good. If the burn would just let up, this could be...
He’s going so slow, so careful, letting my body adjust to each new inch.
I don’t understand where he finds this control, but I’m grateful for it.
Trey doesn’t have the kind of cock you take on a whim.
He could tear me apart if he wanted to. This is the guy who got benched for being too aggressive on the field.
But here, with me, he’s all gentleness and patience, holding back, letting me set the pace even though I’m in no position to lead.
“God, you’re tight,” he groans, pushing in the last of himself. His hips press flush against my ass, his balls warm against mine. The coarse hair tickles my skin. “How’s that feel?”
“Big,” I gasp. “So big.”
“But good?”
“I think... yeah. Starting to.”
“Good.” He kisses my shoulder. “Because from here, it only gets better.”
I crane my neck to find his lips, and we kiss with his cock buried to the hilt inside me.
It’s different from the one before. Slow, deep, exploring.
His tongue slides against mine and his full lips feel like pillows.
I’m struck by how soft he can be. So much of him is hard.
His body, his stubble, the thing currently locked inside me.
But his lips, his touch, they’re gentle.
And this kiss, with my head turned at an awkward angle, is everything.
I could stay like this for hours, locked together.
With his tongue still in my mouth, he pulls back.
Almost all the way out, leaving just the tip.
My hole clenches around him, refusing to let go.
Then he slides back in, one steady glide until he’s flush against me again.
The kiss swallows the sting, and all that’s left is the movement, the friction, the fullness.
In and out. Again. Slow, deep thrusts that make me moan into his mouth.
He’s right. It does get better. Each retreat leaves me hollow, each return floods me with sensation. The ache opens into pleasure. My body learns to take him, to welcome him, to crave him. My hips rock back to meet his, and he lets me, following my rhythm.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he breathes against my ear. “Take what you need.”
I need more. More of him, more of this, more of the feeling that’s building deep in my core. He reads it without me saying a word. The pace picks up, the slow glide becoming harder, faster. Long, powerful thrusts, pulling out until just the head is inside me, then driving back in.
I have to turn back to the easel to brace myself.
My knuckles are white on the wood frame.
I invested in a sturdy one, and right now it’s being tested.
Trey’s hips slap against my ass, loud and wet.
The sound of two bodies meeting with abandon.
His grip on my hips is bruising, pulling me back onto him with every thrust. He’s fucking me.
He’s really fucking me. And God, I love it.
I was wondering if an ass was even designed for this.
Now I’m certain it was. There’s no way anything feels this good by accident.
That deep, internal thrumming. The way the pleasure radiates out, reaching my fingers and toes.
An ass is absolutely, one hundred percent designed to take a cock.
And I mourn every year I’ve wasted with this perfect, built-for-pleasure part of my body, completely ignorant of what it could do.
Like finding out you’re a mermaid at twenty and realizing you’ve spent your whole life on land.
“Harder,” I gasp.
His response is a growl I feel in my bones. He obeys, pounding into me with a force that makes the easel rattle. The portrait, my wild, abstract Trey with the oversized cock, flutters under the clip. A pencil rolls off the shelf and clatters to the floor.
“This what you had in mind?”
“Yes,” I moan. “More.”
“Getting demanding now. I like it. The shy little artist wants to get fucked. So goddamn sexy.”
“I didn’t know,” I pant, barely getting the words out between thrusts. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“How good this would feel. I didn’t know, Trey.”
“Good thing you got me to show you.”
He’s showing me everything. I’m a blank canvas, and he’s working me over with broad, decisive strokes. Filling me in. Layer after layer. The colors are vivid, nothing like my usual muted palette. Gold, crimson, a shocking blue behind my eyelids.
And the sounds. God. His grunts, the slap of skin on skin, my own breathless cries. And filthiest of all, the wet, sucking sound of my stretched hole greedily taking him in and clinging to him on the way out.
There’s a puddle of lube and precum on the floor between my feet.
I look down and watch my hard cock bounce, leaving glistening strings in the air with every impact.
I didn’t know my body could produce this much.
It’s in overdrive, leaking and sweating and tearing up, fluids seeping from every pore and opening.
And instead of shame, I feel a surge of power.
This is what he’s reduced me to. A shuddering, leaking mess.
And he loves it. I can feel it in how far gone he is, grunting with effort, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my back.
He’s into me in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Unabashed. Hungry in a way that mirrors my own.