Page 63 of My Forbidden Commander

“Say that again,” he says finally, his tone cautious.

I open my eyes and look at him. “You heard what I said, Specialist. I want you to fuck me.”

“Gabriel.” He shakes his head, some war happening behind his eyes I don’t have patience for right now. “You don’t have to—I mean, we don’t have to rush anything, I know you’ve only just⁠—”

“I’m ready.” I reach up and catch his wrist before he can pull away completely. “I’ve thought about this. More than once. I want it.”

He studies me for a long moment, searching for a lie or a flinch, something that tells him I don’t mean it. He won’t find one. I’ve spent a night walking through mountains not knowing if he was alive, and more nights before that lying in this bunk running from exactly this want. I’m done running.

“Okay,” he breathes, and his expression changes. Now it’s want, it’s hunger. “Okay. Yeah.”

He reaches for the small tube of lube he’s kept here since that first time, and comes back to kneel between my legs like he’s done this a hundred times, which, unlike me, he probably has.

“Gonna take this slow,” he says, popping the cap. “Tell me if anything’s too much.”

I shake my head. “I’m not made of glass, Reyes.”

“No,” he agrees, spreading lube over two fingers, “but you are new at this, so shut up and let me do my job.”

His first finger presses against me, slick and careful, and I suck in a breath at the strange intrusion of it, the pressure foreign and not unwelcome. He works it in slowly, watching my face the entire time, gauging every twitch.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Just breathe, let me in.”

I do, and the burn eases into something else, something that has my hips shifting without my input.

“There you go,” he says, low and warm. “Doing so good for me, sir.”

A second finger joins the first, and I hiss, my hands fisting in the sheet at my sides. He works me open with a patience I didn’t know he had in him, scissoring, stretching, murmuring filthy praise every time I make a sound I can’t hold back. My cock is leaking steadily against my stomach, into a puddle of precum, and I’ve never felt anything like this. I never dared to touch myself there, not once in forty-five years, because touching myself there would have meant admitting I wanted it, and wanting it was the one thing my whole world told me a man never does.

Now I’m pushing back against his fingers, chasing the stretch, and I can’t wait to feel his cock instead.

He crooks his fingers, and the world goes white.

My hips buck hard enough that he has to press a hand flat against my stomach to hold me down.

“Does that feel good, sir?” His voice has dropped into something ravenous and delighted at once. “Like having your ass played with?” He does it again, and I bite down a sound that would’ve carried through the whole row of huts. “Just you wait until I hit that spot with my dick. Every single thrust.”

“Noah—” It comes out strangled.

“Almost there.” He works a third finger in alongside the other two, stretching me wider, and the burn and the pleasure blur together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other starts. “Almost ready for me.”

When he finally withdraws his fingers, I feel empty in a way I didn’t know was possible. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose. I hear the click of the cap again, the slick sound of his hand working over his own length, and then he’s pressing against my entrance.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he says, and even now, even hard as granite, he means it.

I open my eyes and capture his gaze. “Reyes. Get inside me,” I command. “Now.”

He laughs, breathless, and pushes in.

I groan at the stretch, deeper than his fingers, deeper than anything, and he goes slow, an inch at a time, watching my face for any sign to stop. There isn’t one. I want all of him, want to feel exactly how full this can make me.

“Fuck,” he breathes when he’s finally seated, hips flush against me. “Gabriel, fuck, you feel⁠—”

“Move,” I order. I need him to move.

He does. Slow at first, testing, one hand braced beside my head, the other wrapped around my cock, stroking in time with the roll of his hips.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against my jaw, dirty and soft all at once. “Just like that, sir. Gonna take such good care of you.”