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“I’m good. Please, I’m good,” Ishir begged.
Zee didn’t relent. “I say when you’re good.”
Ishir groaned, having no other option but to take it. To keep still as Zee hit his prostate, as he pulled out just to slip his thumbs inside, pulling lightly at his rim.
Ishir bit his forearm, stifling a shout. His balls were aching, pulled tight.
“Please,” Ishir sobbed.
Zee didn’t listen. He played with Ishir’s hole as though it was his right. Removed his hand, used more lube, and slipped just the tip of one digit in, a tease. Replaced that with three suddenly, plunging in just right, fucking in and out brutally so that Ishir was knocked forwards. What must have been the thumb of his other hand joined in, and that was it, Ishir was done, he was so close he could barely hold off.
“I’m going to come,” he said wildly. “Zee, Zee, please—”
Zee stopped. Ishir fisted the sheets, trembling, holding on. There were wet spots under him—of drool, of precome. Tears dripped from his eyes, legs wracked with shudders. He clenched, staving off the orgasm by the skin of his teeth.
Zee breathed loudly. “Fuck, Zammy. That was…” He pet Ishir’s flank, his spine, his thigh, the crease of his ass.
“Zee,” Ishir whined. He wanted to be good, but he didn’t know if he could take much more.
“I’ve got you. That was fucking amazing, baby. Didn’t even know you could come just from this.”
He normally couldn’t, but he was so wound up, anything Zee did to him could push him over the edge.
“I’ve got you,” Zee repeated. He manhandled Ishir onto his back, and the sight of his face, his big, wanting eyes, was a balm. “You ready?”
“Stupid question,” Ishir croaked.
Zee snorted. He hooked Ishir’s knees on the insides of his elbows, getting them close. He looked huge over Ishir, the familiar lines of his body foreign in this context.
The desire inside Ishir was eating him up chunk by chunk.
Zee glanced down long enough to line up and push in, and then their eyes locked.
Despite how long Zee had toyed with him, the feel of the cockhead popping in had Ishir’s head reeling.
Zee took him slowly. Ishir felt every inch—the thickness of it, the way it was filling him up to his limit.
It felt so fucking good he couldn’t help but make a sound, broken little pieces panted out. Ishir grabbed at Zee blindly, sinking him into a kiss. They shifted together, and Zee bottomed out, Ishir replete of him.
“Oh,” Ishir gasped.
They breathed the same air, foreheads touching.
Zee started to move.
It was immediately overwhelming. Zee angled them so he was stuffing Ishir just right, lighting him up. Ishir clamped his legs around him, cock dripping onto his stomach, toes curling.
He was trying not to make noise, he really was, but little uh-uh-uh’s of pleasure were being forced out as he was fucked through the mattress, the slow pace picking up until it was brutal. Conquering.
Ishir was hurled to the edge and kept there. His hips, his gut, they ached with pleasure, balls drawn up tight. This was all he’d ever wanted. What his body had craved since it’d learnt what pleasure was.
“Zee,” Ishir sobbed. He was so close.
“You’re good, baby. You can let go. Let me see you come.” He got a hand on Ishir’s cock, and it was all over.
He blacked out. There was nothing in the world but his body, how it was made complete by Zee. He gulped in long, desperate breaths, trying to catch enough air to make his head stop whirling, but Zee was still plunging in, using him, owning him.
Ishir tilted his head, exposing his throat, and a loud growl filled the air. He jerked as Zee fit his teeth to Ishir’s gland, so close to biting, to claiming, that he cried out.
