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“Good?”
“Yeah.”
I pushed a little further. Added more lube to my finger and smoothed it over where his skin had stretched around my dick. Tried to breathe as I pushed further in.
His top leg was shaking. I pressed on it with my palm. Gentle strokes. Up and down. I knew how this felt, and I wanted so badly for him to get past it until it started to feel good.
“Relax. Let it take over.”
“It’s…intense,” he panted out.
“Yeah. I know.” And I knew what I had to do. I pushed all the way in, one final slide.
He roared.
It wasn’t pain. Just that feeling of being impossibly full. We were joined together, and our bodies were—it sounded ridiculous, but it was all I could think of. We were one. Him and me. The Con-and-Matt of humanity. Together.
He breathed. I breathed with him. Bent over his body at some impossible angle as he grabbed my hand and held on tight.
“I love you,” came out of his mouth. I closed my eyes, let myself feel.
I knew he was ready when his opening started to relax, and I began to move gently as his mouth made sounds. Good sounds.
We didn’t need words now anyway. My head went into that space where I was just floating, my hips doing their own thing, his hand grasped tightly in mine and my other hand holding me up so I could keep the angle right. Him half bent over the bed, me across his back keeping up a steady rhythm of thrusts. I wouldn’t last. I couldn’t.
Then I lost his hand as he slipped out of my grip and started jerking himself off at an alarming speed, and I followed his lead, slamming into him, my dick singing and my mouth wide open as the static built.
I loved it. Loved him. Loved the feeling of being so incredibly lucky to have this. Right here. Right now.
The room faded away, and my mind dark, small, twinkling stars flying across my eyelids as somewhere in the distance I heard someone shout. Roar. Sounds that made no sense but were right here in this madness.
Madness. That was what this was.
Howling, I spilled my cum inside of him, and it made me feel invincible, like I was the king of the universe, and I held all the secrets of life and the world right here in my hands.
I didn’t, of course. It was just the orgasm talking, but then I opened my eyes, and he was laughing.
“Fuck, that was intense,” he said. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me down as I slid out and tumbled over him, landing in an uncoordinated heap in his arms.
He tugged at me, rearranged me where he wanted me. Kissed the tip of my nose.
His breathing still wasn’t right, and neither was mine. I panted, swallowed, tried to get myself into some kind of conscious state.
“You OK?” I had to ask because he was still laughing a touch hysterically.
“I just came. Like proper mind-blowing-shoot-your-brains-out-your-ears came.”
“OK?” I laughed. He was ridiculous.
“I loved it. Really loved it. Intense stuff. Truly intense. Made me re-evaluate all those sex scenes I’ve filmed. Cass Powell is obviously faking it. In every scene. Thank God I’m not filming any more smut this season because those orgasms were a crime against queer men. I may have to post on Instagram and apologise.”
“No!” I shouted, laughing almost too much to speak. “Don’t. Honestly. Not a good idea.”
“I think it is.I hereby apologise for my very bad acting.” He sounded so pompous, and he was waving his arms around. “My fake-orgasm acting will forever be a blight on my record. I hereby hand back all my awards.”
I put my hand over his mouth and hid my face in his shoulder. His body was still twitching with giggles.
He was so stupid, but so was I. High on love. On sex. On orgasms.
