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My cock pulsed at his words and he smirked, so I pushed him back down, his face into the mattress. And then I pushed my cock against his hole and slowly slipped inside him.
Hot and slick and so fucking tight.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
He whined, his fists now clawing the bed covers. “Oh fuck, yes.”
I pushed all the way in, up to my balls. And I stayed there, letting him get used to it. He tried to push back, tried to make me move, so with my hand on his hip, I pressed into him. Deeper and harder to remind him who was in charge. He cried out, staying still then, breathing deep and measured.
After a few moments, when he was fully relaxed, he began to whine with each breath. Like he used to when he was truly ready for me to move.
We were so familiar, so in tune.
So I pulled out a little and slid back in a few times, and his hand went back to his cock. “Oh god, Paul. This is what I needed, so bad.”
I put my hand on the bed by his shoulder and began to fuck him. Exactly how I knew he loved it, how he needed it.
He gasped with the change of angle, his hand moving fast, his hips rolling, and I was so deep inside him. He was so tight, taking me into his body like a glove. With his forehead pressed into the bed, he arched his back. “Paul, yes, right there, fuck,” he groaned, his arse clenching tight around me as he came.
Milking me.
I thrust into him hard, once, twice, my cock rock hard and swollen, the coil of pleasure inside me winding tighter and tighter until it snapped.
My cock pulsed and spilled come deep inside him, and he gasped again, moaning as I filled him. The room spun, my world went white and fuzzy...
I’d never come so hard.
I’d never felt like this. Like all my wounds were healed, the pain of the past five years was gone. I collapsed on top of him, staying buried inside him, trying to catch my breath, to make sense of what my heart was trying to tell me.
I was home.
He was my home.
Eventually he moved, groaning as I rolled off him, but I quickly pulled him back into my arms. “Don’t go too far,” I murmured into the back of his head. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He chuckled, sighing contentedly in my arms. Both of us dozed for a while, sleep swirling with happy thoughts and a happy heart.
Somewhere around 2:00 am, I woke him up with a sleepy trail of kisses over his chest. I rolled him onto his back, nestled myself between his legs, sucking on his nipples and flicking them with my tongue until he fisted my hair and wrapped his legs around me.
This time, I kissed him as I pushed into him. My tongue in his mouth with my cock in his arse, his legs around my waist, our fingers entwined. The slower I fucked him, the higher he lifted his legs, then his arms were around my neck, and we found our rhythm, like we always did.
Making love with Derek was so easy.
So right.
His eyes in the darkness, wide and vulnerable, pleading. All I could do was nod and kiss him deeper, giving him what he was silently asking for.
He whined and grunted, his head pushed back, neck corded, and his eyes rolled closed as I hit that magic spot inside him. He came with a silent scream, clawing at my back, and I followed him over the edge.
Coming inside him, making him mine all over again, was everything I needed.
When I cleaned him up, he could barely keep his eyes open, smiling and somewhat incoherent, like he was drunk on me. “Feel like yours again,” he mumbled.
I grinned, my heart happy that he felt the same way. I tossed the washcloth toward my bathroom, wrapped my arms around him, then kissed the side of his head. “Because you are.”
I closed my eyes, knowing morning would come all too soon.
He was only supposed to have one more day here, one more day with me.
