He reached for the oil on the nightstand. “Mustn’t lose focus. You taught me that. Now spread your legs, slut.”
I was laughing as I lay back, giddy with something I couldn’t name. I grabbed my thighs and held myself open for him as he poured oil over his fingers, warming it slightly before reaching between my cheeks and circling my entrance.
The unfamiliar touch was a strange, tickling sensation—not unpleasant, just new. His eyes were on me as he pressed a finger gently into my hole and the laugh died in my throat, my whole body going very still, like an animal that has heard something it doesn’t yet understand. It was alien, a type of vulnerability I didn’t think I’d ever known.
“Relax,” he coaxed, voice gone thick. His finger curled inside me, hitting a spot that sent an electric tremor up my spine. I tried to obey, but every instinct screamed at me to clench tight, to stay armored. He read me, of course. He always did, this clever, maddening brat who’d somehow become my axis. He leaned forward to nip at my jaw, and I let my eyes flutter closed, letting his warmth and his merciless persistence guide me through the prickle of uncertainty.
He was using two fingers now, stretching me. The slick pressure made my cock leap against my stomach, so hard it almost hurt. As the iron in the room began to sing, I looked up and met his eyes. He gave me a slow, knowing smile. “Fuck,” I breathed, the words catching in my throat. “I didn’t think I could love you more, but I do.”
“And all it takes is a little press against your prostate.”
I groaned. Pip leaned forward and kissed me, slow and deep, just letting his finger stay inside me, connecting us in the most intimate way. I moaned against his lips, grinding down on his hand as things started to feel better. He looked up at the candelabra hanging from the ceiling as it vibrated above us.
“I love our little alarm system,” Pip said, nodding at the vibrating metal. “Your magic always lets me know when you’re enjoying yourself.”
I let out a gruff laugh, cut off as he leaned down, and wrapped the hot velvet of his mouth around my cock, swallowing me whole. I bucked, and every movement either impaled my hole deeper on his fingers, or dragged my cock across his slick tongue. He thrust his fingers deeper, and when the pad of one stroked a place inside me that felt like a live wire, I choked out something filthy. My own voice, desperate and animal.
Pip drew off just long enough to make sure I was watching. “You like that? That’s your prostate.”
He grinned like a devil and swirled his tongue around my head, then plunged down again, fingers curling and stroking that spot—my prostate—with ruthless precision. The experience was uncannily powerful, absurdly effective.
I was used to controlling every muscle in my body, but now my own surrender was being drawn out of me increment by increment, my discipline peeling away in layers I couldn’t hold together. His pace never faltered, his mouth working with a focused patience that stripped my thoughts down to sensation alone, and every time his fingers pressed into that knot inside me I lost another degree of myself, until I was writhing, shuddering, half-feral and grinding helplessly into his face.
He pressed harder, scissoring three fingers, and I yelped at the sudden, overwhelming fullness. Pip moaned, the soundvibrating straight up my cock, and I thought I might lose consciousness, my vision tunneling out to the honey-gold mess of his hair and the gleam of his collar as it dragged over my stomach. Pressure built behind my eyes and balls and everywhere at once, until I was sweating and shaking, desperate for something I couldn’t even name.
He pulled off my cock with an obscene slurp and sat up, licking his lips, eyes blown wide and glittering with wicked delight. “You’re so fucking easy like this,” he purred. “Bet you could come just from my fingers.”
I started to snarl a retort, but then he pushed in deeper and crooked his fingers, and pleasure ripped through my body so violently that it stole all the air from my lungs. I arched off the bed with a strangled cry.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking sexy like this. The great Aeldryc, undone by my fingers.”
I glared at him, needy and trembling, and promised revenge. He only grinned and withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening. Reaching for more oil, he stroked it along his cock until it gleamed in the lamplight.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded, drawing him down for a kiss that left us both breathless. “Please. Show me.”
He positioned himself at my entrance and pushed in slowly. The stretch was intense, exquisite. Pip was relentless, pushing past my resistance with a low, greedy moan. The head of his cock breached the ring of muscle, and every muscle in my body seized at once, my hands clawing the sheets, a sound tearing out of me before I could stop it—pain and pleasure so intimately tangled I was afraid I might sob.
He slowed, gentle now, one hand stroking my hip, the other steadying his cock as he inched forward. “God, you’re tight,” he breathed, awe and hunger warring in his face. “You feel so fucking good, Aeldryc.”
The words, the way my name sounded wrecked and reverent in his mouth, undid something deep in me. I let out a noise I’d never made before—high and shameless—and Pip shuddered, burying himself the rest of the way. The fullness hit me like a held breath finally forced out, my whole body going rigid and then slack, a ringing in my ears, my jaw, the soles of my feet. I thrashed, too full, too raw, but then he stilled, leaning down to kiss the sweat from my temple.
“I love you, baby. You’re taking me so well,” he whispered.
The heat of him, the pulse and twitch of his cock inside me, was obscene, overwhelming, and so perfect I wanted to die and burn apart and come all over his cock.
He started moving, small, rocking thrusts, and the friction grew hotter and better, the pain ebbing into a deep, throbbing ache that made my head spin. Every time the head of his cock draggedagainst my prostate, my cock jolted, I let out a soft, breathy whimper. I was leaking a steady stream of pre-cum now, making a mess of myself as he fucked me.
“Your cock feels so good,” I groaned. “Fuck me harder.”
Pip began to move faster, each thrust deliberate, his eyes scanning my face, searching for any sign of discomfort. I grabbed his ass, drawing him deeper, my back arching so he could hit me at the perfect angle.
He drizzled oil over my cock, stroking it in long, slick slides of his palm as he fucked me. “Oh fuck, I won’t be able to hold on.”
He was incoherent now, rutting harder, losing the rhythm of his hips and just pounding into me with wild, desperate little sobs. The slap of our bodies, the wet glide of lube and sweat, the heavy, metallic backbeat of the candelabra vibrating above us—every sense was tuned to him, to the boy I’d never meant to love and now could never live without.
Pip was fucking me so hard I thought I’d shatter, until both of us were trembling on the edge of something vicious and beautiful.
