“Just my fingers first. Relax for me.”
I kiss his belly button as my hand travels lower. He parts his legs willingly, letting out a breathy sigh as I circle his entrance. I watch his face, then smile when I see only anticipation.
“Breathe out, pretty boy.”
He exhales, and I press in carefully, past the initial tight resistance. His body tenses for a second before he manages to relax.
“Good boy,” I praise, leaning down to kiss him softly on the mouth as I work my finger. “So good for me.”
I crook my finger, searching, and when I brush that spot inside him, his whole body jolts.
“Y-yes! Oh, god, Daddy!”
I add a second finger, stretching him with care. By the time I have three fingers moving within him, he’s a mess of pleas. His cock strains against his stomach, pre-come smeared everywhere.
“I’m ready. Please! I need… need to feel you,” he begs.
“I know, pretty boy. I know.”
I withdraw my fingers, earning a needy whine. I cover myself quickly, adding a bit more lube, then move over him, bracing my weight on my arms. I look down into his eyes.
“Keep your focus on me. I want to see all of you.”
He nods, his gaze locked on mine. I guide myself to him, the head of my cock nudging against his stretched opening. I push forward with a level of patience I didn’t think possible.
My boy’s mouth falls open in a silent cry. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment before he forces them open again, just like I’d asked him to.
The feel of his body wrapped around mine is overwhelming.
“Breathe,” I remind him. “Just breathe through it with me.”
We find a rhythm as I sink deeper, bit by bit, until I’m fully seated inside him. Sweat beads on my forehead. I fight between wanting to make slow, sweet love to him and needing to fuck him so hard he can’t form coherent thoughts.
“Okay?” I ask, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead.
He nods and a tear slips from the corner of his eye. “So full. I love it.”
I kiss the tear away. Then I begin to move.
Each time I pull back is agony. Each thrust forward a homecoming.
I angle my hips to hit that spot inside him with every stroke, and his reactions are music to my ears. My name becomes a prayer as his legs work to pull me deeper.
My world narrows to the feel of him. To the sight of him unraveling beneath me.
The love I feel is a physical thing, a pressure in my chest even greater than the pleasure coiling in my spine. I watch as his release builds. His hands scramble on my back as his mouth drops open.
“Daddy, I’m close. I’m gonna?—”
“That’s it, pretty boy,” I urge. “Come for me. Let me see you.”
With a broken cry that sounds like my name and a sob mixed together, he arches off the bed. His release paints stripes across his stomach and chest in hot pulses. The intense grip of his body around mine is all it takes for me to fall apart.
My own climax roars through me, white-hot and blinding. It pulls a guttural groan from my throat as I spill into the condom, my hips stuttering against his as I ride the waves of pleasure.
Epilogue
Brett
