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Oliver groaned, nodding as he humped upward again.
Victor very gently let his ass lower to increase the pressure against Oliver’s cock. “You want that too, don’t you? You want me to force you to make a mess of those pretty panties.”
Oliver’s throat was threatening to close up, his chest tight, tongue too heavy for words. “Please,” he tried, but it barely came out a whisper.
Victor let go of his cock and gripped Oliver by the hair as he aimed with his hips. It was obvious it wasn’t easy for him, and Oliver reminded himself that this was new. Victor’s past lovers had probably been selfish and uncaring, and this was Victor’s first time like this with a man.
He needed to take care. To leave him better than he found him.
Opening his mouth wide, Oliver chased Victor’s cock until the head slipped past his teeth. Victor’s loud, long moan filled the room as Oliver swallowed him down, and then Victor set a rhythm that was punishing and gorgeous all at the same time.
Oliver was momentarily afraid he wouldn’t be able to take it, but by the third thrust, Victor was starting to lose it. His cock was growing thicker, his thrusts sloppier. Oliver’s throat started to ache, but he could handle it.
His precious lover wasn’t going to last long, and Oliver was going to drag him over the edge.
He slipped his fingers inside the silky boxer briefs, gently stroking over Victor’s balls, and that was all it took.
With a long, thready, pained moan, Victor thrust in once, holding himself all the way against the back of Oliver’s throat, and let go. His legs began to spasm, and it was obvious he was struggling to pull back, so Oliver straightened his legs and pushed Victor’s hips until his tense ass landed on his thighs.
Licking his lips, Oliver stared down at the white mess in the tip of Victor’s condom. It was thick, and there was so goddamn much of it, and Oliver hated that he couldn’t feel it in his mouth or against his skin.
He started to reach for Victor, but the older man fell to the side and did his best to straighten his body along the cushions of the couch. His grip on Oliver was weak, but he managed to tug and pull hard enough for Oliver to land on top of him, his still-hard cock pressed against the cut of Victor’s hip.
Victor’s eyes were wide and wild, his fingers spasming against the fleshy sides of Oliver’s ass. “Get off. Can…can you get off? I need…please. I need to know you want…that it was…”
Oliver realized Victor was in a damn near panic, so he kissed him slow and steady, refusing to let Victor’s hysteria control either of them. He gently pulsed his tongue against the other man’s until Victor’s breathing started to even out, and when the moment passed, Oliver sat back and helped him shift until he was sitting up, Oliver resting on his thighs.
“Talk to me,” Oliver said, his voice still a little raspy.
Victor traced a touch over Oliver’s throat. “I think I hurt you. I saw it in your face. But I was so turned on I couldn’t stop, and…”
Oliver quickly shook his head. “You trust me, yes?”
Victor nodded, looking slightly miserable.
Oliver rocked his still painfully hard erection against Victor’s softening one. “Does this feel like I wasn’t into it?”
“I know that could be a trauma response,” Victor said sullenly.
Oliver sighed and sagged against him, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “You’re so sweet, but honey, I’ve been doing this for a long time now. And that’s not to say I couldn’t be hurt, but I’m not afraid of you. I would have stopped you if it was too much.”
“But you were hurt,” Victor whispered.
Oliver grinned, leaning forward and knocking their foreheads together. “Getting a little sore throat from an amazing blow job isn’t something I dislike. Trust me.” He took a breath. “God, you’re so…”
Victor’s voice shook. “Pathetic?”
“Perfect,” Oliver corrected without even thinking. “Wonderful. Precious.” His heart hurt because he knew enough people had told Victor he was less than, and he believed it. No one had ever given him reason not to. “You’re kind. And I’m so turned on by you it’s ridiculous.”
Victor let out a soft moan, gripping Oliver by the hips. His legs were still trembling, but Victor didn’t seem to care, so Oliver ignored it in favor of rocking himself on Victor’s lap—just the way he’d asked. He’d gone a little softer when Victor started to panic, but it didn’t take long for him to fill his panties again.
“Just like that,” Victor murmured. “God, look at you.”
Oliver glanced down between them at the wet patch of precome soaking into the soft lilac, darkening the fabric to a rich, royal purple. His cock twitched harder. “I need…” He stopped because he wasn’t sure what he meant to say. He knew what Victor wanted—what he’d ordered Oliver to do—but it felt like something was missing.
Hands cradled his face, drawing his gaze up, and Victor’s eyes met his. Then Victor closed the distance between them and kissed him.
It wasn’t a kiss like before though. It wasn’t desperate, or scared, or needy. It wasn’t a performance, trying to make the moment hotter and sexier. Victor kissed him like he had nowhere else to be. No, he kissed him like there was nowhere else he wasmeantto be.
