Page 3 of No Going Back

I hold both my palms up, showing him I mean it. “I won’t touch your dick, okay?”

Cole stares at me, chest rising fast. “I must be going crazy…”

“No,” I murmur, voice reassuring. “You’re just a really, really good friend.”

I turn him gently by the shoulders and guide him down until he’s on his knees, upper body folded forward over the edge of the bed. He doesn’t fight it, just lets me position him, muscles tense under my hands.

“At least give me a pillow to hide my shame,” he mutters into the comforter.

I can’t help the soft laugh that escapes as I reach across the bed, grab one of his pillows, and hand it over. He snatches it immediately and pulls it over his head, burying his face completely.

Fuck… he’s really letting me do this. My hands shake a little as I shove my jeans and boxers down in one motion, freeing my aching cock. It twitches hard at the sight in front of me… Cole’s broad back tapered down to narrow hips, the firm curve of his ass exposed and waiting. I’ve fucked Hannah’s ass a few times; it’s tight and hot. This is just the same, right? Just skin, just friction, just release. I drop to my knees behind him, settling between his spread legs. Up close, I can see every ridge of muscle in his glutes, the way they flex slightly as he shifts, bracing himself. I swallow thickly, my mouth dry.

Okay. Come on, Remy. You promised him quick. This is a hell of a favour he’s doing for you.

I know how this works. There is no way I can just shove in dry; it would hurt him, maybe even tear something, and the last thing I want is to actually injure my best friend. Besides, he literally just stepped out of the shower, so he’s clean, the faint scent of his body wash still lingering in the air. I drag in a steadying breath, my hands trembling slightly as I place them on the firm curves of his ass and gently spread him open. The sight alone makes my cock throb harder, but I don’t let myself hesitate. Hesitation will only make this worse, for both of us. So, I lower my face and flatten my tongue against his hole in one long, deliberate lick.

Cole yelps sharply and jerks forward, his whole body tensing. “Oh my god,” he mutters, the words muffled into the pillow he still has pulled over his head.

I grin against his skin, surprised at how not bad this is. In fact, it’s kind of… good. He tastes clean, faintly like soap and something unmistakably him, he clenches under my tongue in a way that sends heat rushing straight to my dick. I do it again, slower this time, tracing circles before I push just the tip of my tongue inside. Cole groans, low and displeased, but he doesn’t pull away… he stays right there, knees spread on the carpet, chest pressed to the bed.

I keep at it for a minute or two, licking broad stripes, then pointing my tongue to fuck shallowly into him, feeling the muscle gradually relax under the wet pressure. When I finally pull back, my breathing is ragged. I bring one finger to his entrance and ease it in slowly, gently, watching the way his body resists at first before yielding. Cole makes a strangled noise I can’t even describe… half protest, half something else entirely.

My gaze drifts lower, and I freeze for a second. Between his thighs, I can see his cock is hard now, heavy against the edge of the bed. Wait… is he enjoying this? I shake my head, a quiet laugh escaping me as I start to move my finger in careful thrusts, curling it experimentally. Cole’s toes curl hard against the dorm carpet, his calves flexing. The sight is too much; I wrap my free hand around my own cock and stroke slowly, relieving just a fraction of the unbearable pressure. After a few more thrusts I add a second finger, scissoring gently, spreading him open bit by bit, feeling the tight heat start to soften around me.

Minutes pass like that… me working him carefully, listening to every muffled breath and shift of his hips, my own hand moving lazily on myself. The room is quiet except for the wet sounds of my fingers and our breathing. Sweat beads on my forehead; the restraint is killing me.

Then a sharp wave of pleasure hits out of nowhere as I come a little in my hand, just a spurt, not nearly enough to soften me or finish this. “Fuck.”

I can’t hold back anymore. I pull my fingers free, wipe my hand quickly on my thigh, and line myself up. My cockhead presses against his wet entrance, and the reality slams into me: I am actually about to fuck my best friend. This is weird, right? Except right now, with every nerve in my body screaming for release, it doesn’t feel weird at all. I take a deep breath and push forward. The head pops past that initial ring of resistance, sliding into a place no one has ever touched before, and I groan out loud. Christ, he is impossibly tight… like a fist clamped around me, hot and velvet-soft inside.

Cole jerks hard, a high whimper escaping the pillow as he instinctively tries to shift forward. My hands clamp down on his hips, fingers digging into muscle to hold him exactly where he is.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, fighting the urge to come right then and there. I could finish from this alone, but I won’t. Fuck, I won’t.

I slide one palm up to the centre of his back, pressing gently to keep him folded over the bed, and I look down… fascinated, almost dazed… as I watch myself disappear into him inch by inch. Thick, stretching him open, the sight obscene and perfect. He’s so tight, gripping me, the pleasure is so intense it borders on pain. A low moan tears out of my throat before I can stop it.

In response, Cole’s muffled voice comes from under the pillow, shaky and disbelieving: “Jesus Christ…”

I laugh softly, breathless, but I can’t bring myself to say anything back. Talking feels like it would make this stranger than it already is, so I stay silent, focused entirely on the slow, inexorable slide until I’m buried to the hilt inside my best friend.

I find a rhythm fast, pulling back slow at first to feel every inch of that impossible grip, then snapping my hips forward hard enough that the slap of skin on skin echoes in the quiet room. Holy shit, this feels better than I thought, better than fucking Hannah’s ass ever did, tighter, hotter, like he’s pulling me in deeper with every thrust. I’m enjoying this way too much, the pleasure building sharp and relentless in my gut, dragging moans out of me that start low and ragged and get louder with every stroke.

I keep my hands spread on his ass, thumbs pulling him open so I can watch myself disappear into him over and over… thick, stretching him wide. The sight is filthy and perfect, and I bite down hard on my lip to stop the flood of dirty words piling up in my throat. Fuck, I could say so much right now… how good he looks taking me, how tight he feels, how I never knew it could be like this… but I swallow it all and just drive in harder.

I shift his hips a fraction, tilting them up, and Cole actually moans… loud and raw, the sound punching out of him as his head jerks out from under the pillow.

He gasps, fingers twisting tight in the sheets. “Fuck!”

The noise makes me half-moan, half-laugh, breathless and wrecked. “Well fuck, Cole… does that feel good?”

He moans again, louder this time, hips pushing back without meaning to. “Shut the… fuck… up… oh god…”

I grin wide, sweat dripping down my temple. At least he’s getting something out of this too.

I keep slamming home, deep and punishing, the bed creaking under us. “Cole… you wanna come or what?”

He mutters something that sounds like “God, I hate myself,” then louder, “Fuck… yes… please, Remy… let me come.”