And I chose him.
"Yes," I say. "I'm ready."
He rolls on the condom and positions himself between my legs. His head presses against my entrance, and my breath catches.
"Look at me," he says.
I do. His eyes are dark, intense, locked on mine.
"If it hurts—"
"We stop. I know."
He pushes in. Just the tip, and already it's a stretch. My body resists, and I tense.
"Breathe," he murmurs. "Relax for me, baby. Let me in."
I try. Take a deep breath, force my muscles to unclench. He pushes deeper, and there's pressure, fullness, a sharp pinch that makes me gasp.
"You okay?" He's frozen, watching my face.
"Keep going."
"Aurora—"
"Please. I want all of you."
He groans, pushes deeper. The pinch becomes a burn, and tears spring to my eyes. But underneath the discomfort, there's something else. Something that feels right, like my body was made for this. Made for him.
One more push and he's fully seated inside me.
We both freeze.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You feel—you're so tight—"
"Is that good?"
"That's fucking perfect." He stays still, lets me adjust. "How do you feel?"
I take inventory. The burn is fading, replaced by fullness. Pressure. The feeling of being completely connected to another person.
"Full," I say. "Really full."
"Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore." I shift my hips experimentally, and we both groan. "Move. Please move."
He pulls back slowly, pushes back in. Sets a careful rhythm, watching my face for any sign of pain.
But there's no pain now. Just pleasure building with every stroke, every slide of him inside me.
"More," I gasp. "Faster—"
"You sure?"
"Yes—please—Axel—"
He loses control.
