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“Please what?”
I groan, lifting my head to look back at him over my shoulder. “Please stuff me full of your cock.”
“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.”
Finally, finally, he positions himself at my entrance and works his way in slowly. The pressure steals my breath, stretching me, filling me until he’s all the way in and I’m so full I can barely think. He stays like that for a moment, letting me adjust.
Instead of thrusting, he grinds. He circles his hips, a slow, delicious rotation that has his cock rubbing against my inner walls in a way that’s intensely pleasurable. It’s not the hard, fast fuck I was bracing myself for, but I like it. A lot.
He leans forward, his chest pressing against my back before pulling me flush against him, his lips finding my ear. “You feel so good.”
“Mmm,” I hum in acknowledgment.
He continues his slow grinding as I’m impaled on his cock. Pleasure is coiling in my gut, and as much as I’m enjoying this, I need him to fuck me.
“Harder. Please, Marcus.”
“I want to make sure you memorize every inch of my cock, so when you jerk off, this is all you’ll think of.”
“Fuck,” I breathe involuntarily at his possessiveness. But I want that too. When real life pulls us apart, I want to have the feeling of his cock inside me memorized.
He shifts his position slightly, changing the angle, and his cock brushes against my prostate. A sharp cry tears from my throat, my body arching off the bed. He hits it again, and again.
“That the spot, baby?” he asks.
“Yes,” I moan. “Fuck, yes.”
He continues his slow, grinding motion, his cock hitting my prostate on nearly every rotation. My orgasm is building a deep pressure inside me and I’m getting so close. My thighs are trembling and before I realize it’s here, ropes of cum are shooting from my dick across Marcus’s mattress. With a groan, he thrusts again and again until he buries himself deep inside me, his own release rocking through him.
He collapses against me, his body a heavy, comforting weight on my back. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to my shoulder, and I can’t help but smile.
“Let me get a towel to clean you up,” Marcus says, and I let him.
He comes back to wipe me up with the wet washcloth and I turn on my side to watch him. “Leave it. Come’ere,” I slur from my orgasm after he spot cleaned me, not ready to get out of bed yet.
He comes easily, tossing the fabric on the end table and pulling me into him so my head is on his chest. My favorite place to be. My fingers dance across his tattooed thighs over an hourglass. “I love this one,” I muse.
“Me too.”
“Does it have a specific meaning to you?” I ask.
He hums for a moment and I wonder if that’s all he’ll give me, but he opens his mouth. “Yeah. It’s my reminder that this is it. I don’t get more time or another life. I got it when I went to college and felt like I’d have my whole life ahead of me, since I was finally out of my parents’ house. But no one warned me how much being an adult wears you down.”
Once again, my heart hurts for him, and all I want is to help make his future better than his past.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s too late for it to feel like that again.”
Instead of responding, his hand finds mine and he laces our fingers together, and I decide that’s answer enough and move on.
“How many do you have?” I ask, tracing along the edge of the hourglass down toward his knee, where the sand seems to spill into a cluster of small stars. It makes me chuckle, knowing he doesn’t like sand but has it tattooed on him.
“Lost count. It became a bit of an obsession.” He shifts so I can see more of the art that decorates his skin. His body is a collection of ink that runs from his hip down to his ankle, as he shifts his naked body, I notice a compass that reminds me of my own. “This one’s from when I was nineteen.” He points to a smiley face with “x”s as eyes on his calf, ink slightly faded at the edges. “This one’s dumber, but I really like it.” He nods toward a skateboard. “Josh and I got them when we turned eighteen. It was my first one.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Yeah, he was always there for me growing up and still is.”
“I’m glad you have that.”
