Page 63 of Love Language

Marco lifted the ice pack, made a great show of checking, and then pressed it back down. Somehow, it was even fucking colder this time.

Greg clawed at the bed as he tried to keep still, his chest heaving.

Finally, Marco took pity on him. When he fondled him with his warm hand, heat raced through him like flames. His senses were painfully confused.

They’d barely even started the scene, and Greg already felt like he was ready to explode. Except, of course, that he was completely soft now. Because getting hard was something that Marco got to control.

He felt deliciously owned. It was heaven.

Much better, Marco commented. Like he wasn’t worth anything more than his misbehaving dick. It was a little bit embarrassing and extremely hot.

Greg turned his head at a sound. Marco was opening something about the size of a condom wrapper, but with a papery cover. Ah, an alcohol prep pad. Which was apparently also going on his shriveled dick.

Have to get you cleaned up, Marco smirked.

Greg felt frustrated and helpless and cold and definitely in love.

Marco used another alcohol pad. And then put on nitrile gloves and used two more. Latex had never been one of his kinks, but the cool objectivity of the material was just doing something for him.

He quietly wondered if all of this cleaning was necessary. He hadn’t bothered reading up anything on sounding, since it was Marco’s job to worry about it. But whether it was Marco protecting his health or just messing with him, it was sexy.

Safe words? Marco asked, his hands outlined by the stark black of the gloves.

Red and yellow. Greg thought it was sweet that he still asked when they tried something new. Another way that he was looking out for him.

If anything hurts at all, Marco emphasized, you need to tell me right away. This might feel a bit unusual, but if anything feels painful or pokey, then it’s wrong and it could cause you serious injury. Understand?

Understood. Alright, safety first. But that little thrill of danger was sexy, too, when he was absolutely certain that Marco would keep him safe.

It was just the idea of being penetrated. In a part of his body that was meant for penetration. It was warped and dirty and unbelievably arousing.

Close your eyes.

Greg complied, knowing that Marco would tap his shoulder if he wanted to say anything.

Immediately, his other senses swelled. He could hear Marco touching the things on the tray. More packets were opened, he thought. The sharp bite of rubbing alcohol hit his nose.

He hadn’t gotten a good look at the sounds before, and now he wished he had. He thought there were three of them, two metal and one some sort of clear material. Had they been curved? Were they really as long as he remembered? And which one would Marco pick?

The anticipation was killing him.

And then the plasticky, cold sensation of Marco’s gloved hand returned to his cock. Why was it so sexy that Marco was touching him in just that place?

Next came something cool, like metal, slick and just a bit rounded, teasing at his slit.

Oh, fuck. This was it. He drew in his breath in a great gasp, pulling in all his muscles in an unconscious act of self-protection.

Marco played with the sounds, though, deliberately swirling around his slit until he had to exhale. Right. Marco was in charge.

He took a shaky breath, then a calmer one. His imagination readily supplied the image of Marco smiling at him.

When the sounds started to go in, it took him a moment to realize it was happening. If it weren’t for the temperature difference, he might not have noticed. And then there was a pressure a bit further back than he would have expected.

It was weird. It was slippery and hard and inside of him. He almost felt like he had to pee, though it wasn’t quite as straightforward as that. He certainly didn’t hate it, but he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

And then a small vibration shook the metal as it slipped down a little further and he loved it.

Oh, God, it was… And fuck, it was still traveling inside him, squirming deeper into him until it hit something, and pleasure roared up like a volcano.