24. Eli #2
My knees buckle.
He catches me immediately, firm hands anchoring me in place, holding me steady against the wall as I tremble under the weight of it all.
A quiet sound escapes him, almost a laugh, and I feel it against my skin as he keeps me upright, right where he wants me.
“So desperate for me, Eli?”
“Sunshine,” my voice rasps as I exhale, the word breaking as my body shifts instinctively toward him.
He answers me with restraint: a nip, then another kiss on the inside of my thigh.
It’s a warning, light but deliberate, pressed into the most sensitive points of my reactions to him. His kisses send shivers straight through me, every muscle tightening as I lose focus on anything except him.
I try to reach for him again and again, my hips thrusting, my cock seeking him, my body betraying me as it chases contact I can’t find.
His fingertips drift over my skin as he moves past my cock. The contact is light but deliberate, leaving heat in its wake.
Then he stands.
For a moment, his chest presses against mine as he comes up to his full height, the closeness knocking the air clean out of my lungs as I look up at him. I feel him everywhere: heat, pressure, breath, so close I can’t think past him.
“It hurts how much I love you, Eli. You’re so deep in my heart now there’s no going back, baby. You’ve become the most important thing in my world,” he says against my skin, his words landing warm and unsteady.
His mouth finds mine, unhurried but consuming, and everything fades as he kisses me. I groan into his mouth, my hands tightening on his back, pulling him closer as if I can close every inch of space between us.
My hands run up his back, feeling the raised scars beneath my fingertips, learning him the same way he has learned every part of me.
I hold onto him as we kiss, feeling the strength of him under my fingers. He is familiar now in a way that feels deeper than thought, like muscle memory forming between us.
We kiss like time has loosened its grip on us. Like there is no rush, no ending, just this slow unfolding of each other.
I love you.
My hand wraps around his cock, firm and steady, and the moment I do, everything changes. I feel it in the way his body tightens, in the sharp intake of breath he can’t quite hide.
The water around us turns warm and distant, as if the world is falling away in layers. I watch as he tilts his head back while I stroke him, and I see it happen, slowly, unmistakably: the way control slips through his fingers and into mine.
Something in my chest snaps tight at the sight of it.
I adjust my grip and run my thumb over his crown, not rough or rushed, just certain. Intentional. Reading every shift in him like a language only I know. I worship him.
I tug his dick slowly again, and his breath breaks. His breathing is uneven now as I stroke him, twisting my wrist at the end. I feel his pre-cum leaking from him as it mingles with the water. His broken breathing rocks through me; there’s no space left for instinct or response anymore.
Only heat. Only reaction. Only us.
My lips follow, mapping his face, tracing his jaw, the shape of his dimple.
I kiss and lick down his neck and around to his Adam’s apple, and a sound breaks from him: low, unguarded, landing in my chest. My grip on him tightens, milking him, and I feel him respond to me, his body giving away more than he intends.
I look up at him, and need coils through me, sharp and consuming as I take in this man I love. I want every sound. Every breath. Every loss of composure. I want all of it.
I drop down in front of him and run my tongue from his base to his tip, the heat between us immediate. His breath catches as I look up at him, and I see it in his eyes: desire, yes, but something steadier. Careful, almost.
His fingers slide gently into my hair, holding me there without pressure.
“Baby, you don’t have to,” he says softly.
I shake my head once, slow.
“I want to,” I whisper. “…fucking want to,” I say, before wrapping my lips around his cock and sinking down as far as I can go.
I commit and take him into my mouth, feeling his dick twitch as it sits on my tongue. I don’t look away. I keep him there, anchored by eye contact, and then I sink further, taking him deep down my throat, swallowing around him.
His grip tightens in my hair, and I watch as he breaks apart in sharp, uneven breaths.
“Holy fuck!” he chokes out, his head tipping back against the wall as control slips further out of him. A rough, shattered sound leaves him as his body reacts before he can rein it in.
“Oh, God,” his voice wrecked. “Baby… that feels so good.”
He thrusts slightly, testing me, and there’s a shift in pressure as he watches for a sign I’ll pull away.
I don’t.
And that’s all the invitation he needs to lose the last thread of restraint as he pushes his cock down my throat.
I watch him as his control breaks in slow motion: his breathing, posture, the way his grip tightens in my hair as he gives in completely.
Tears stream down my face and float away with the water as his cock moves deeper.
I lay my hand over my throat and squeeze, feeling him there, hot and hard.
He moans as I squeeze again, my head going light.
He watches me through hooded eyelids. He shakes his head as he feels my hand wrap around his cock while it is seated in my throat.
“Oh, my God. Baby Boy… too good.” He doesn’t say it properly anymore. He is unraveling, fracturing. He’s gone from steady to undone in front of me.
Because of me.
He’s letting go for me.
I moan around him, and he looks down at me.
“You need it, Baby Boy?” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, watching every reaction I give him. “Need my cock?”
I answer him on instinct, but he slows down, shaking his head slightly, keeping me right at the edge.
“Baby Boy,” he warns softly, “if you keep looking at me with my cock buried deep in your throat, I’m going to completely lose it.” His grip tightens in my hair for a moment, then he pulls his dick from my mouth and shifts away slightly while helping me stand.
“And baby, I want your ass,” he whispers into my ear. “Now.”
He reaches for the lube, handing it over to me with a look that’s all intent and pleasure.
“Lube me up, Baby Boy. Then let’s get you nice and wet for me.”
I take the lube, pouring some into my palm. The slickness of it spreads over my hand as CJ closes the distance between us, hands coming to my face, and kisses me with absolute purpose. Slow at first, then deeper, losing himself in me. My fingers slide over his dick as I get him ready for me.
He turns me gently, placing my hands on the wall, pulling my hips back to him. My back arches for him. His lubed fingers trace my crease and circle my hole. He watches me, waiting for permission.
I don’t pull away. I give him a small nod.
He pushes one finger up to his first knuckle and the pain is slight. He moves carefully at first, then settles into a steady rhythm. The world narrows as he adds a second finger, then a third, and I feel myself slipping away: not away from him, but into him.
Every one of my breaths is shorter, harder as he keeps me on the edge of myself. It’s overwhelming, and this is only his fingers.
Fuck. I haven’t even got his dick in me yet.
Impatience wins out, and a low growl slips from me as I glance back over my shoulder. I hear his quiet laugh, and then his teeth graze my shoulder in a warning that sends a shiver through me. His tongue follows, slower, softer, a line of attention traced into my skin. His breath brushes my ear.
“You ready for my cock, Baby Boy?” His voice is raspy and low.
“So ready, Sunshine,” I breathe out. “So fucking ready.”
The movement of his fingers pauses as I rock back on them once, twice more. My body seeks him. My need for him… he is now my objective. He removes his fingers, pulling a moan from me. His eyes drag over my face, and he turns me to face him.
“I want to see you,” he says. “I want to watch you lose yourself on my dick.”