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He obeys immediately, his gorgeous ass appearing up in the air like an invitation. I grab his pale ass cheeks in my hands. He whimpers, but holds still for me as I spread them to expose his hole.
I think of the porn I’ve watched. Of what he might want to hear in place of what I actually want to say.
You’re fucking beautiful. “This hole is so needy.” Is your neck comfortable like that? “Don’t worry, though. I’ll give it what it needs.” I’ll give you anything you could ever need. “Be good and take it.” You ready, baby?
I press into him, immediately feeling the difference from last time. That third finger stretched him perfectly for me. This—this is too tight.
A little whine comes from him as I corkscrew the first two inches into his hole.
“Oh god,” he half-cries, half-moans.
I tighten my grip on his waist to keep my hands from shaking. “You can take it,” I tell him, even though he shouldn’t fucking have to, even though it’d be nothing to add more lube, even though I hate this. “Just relax. Open up for me, baby.”
He takes a shaky breath before his body goes lax under me. His hole flutters, then pushes against my cock, sucking it in almost. It feels good.
It feels practiced.
Don’t think about that. He can’t help what he’s learned. You’re the one who told him to relax. Just don’t think about it.
He cants his hips, making it a better angle for me to fuck the rest of my cock into him. His body trembles as I pass over a spot inside of him.
“There?” I ask before realizing I probably should pretend I don’t care.
His body trembles as I purposely pass over the spot a few times. “Y-yeees.”
I should tell him he better not come. It was on the packet, something he said he wanted if I did. I had said I didn’t, but now would be the perfect time to at least try it. Is it really that big of a deal to tell him he can’t come?
But how many of them told him the same? How often was his cock in a cage, the choice taken from him even when he was alone? How is this any different—stop, stop, stop thinking, just fuck him, you idiot.
I bottom out. He moans, low and filthy, his hole clenching down hard. I can’t get myself to say anything, my tongue heavy and useless. I make up for it by reaching over his back to grip his hair. He moans again before I can even pull it.
He likes it, I tell myself. He wants it.
My fingers twitch in the silky blond strands. Just pull. This is fucking stupid, Maison. You’ve pulled someone’s hair before during sex. It’s no different.
I pull just enough to tug at his head. His neck arches. It’s beautiful, the shape of it, the sound he makes like he’s going to come so hard he might shatter.
It’s heartbreaking.
You’re hurting him! every instinct in me shouts. We love him, we promised to protect him, why are you hurting him?
If I keep this shit up, I’m going to get fucking soft. Then he’s really going to be upset.
I let go of his hair, doing it slowly so his head doesn’t fall hard against the pillow. Even that is probably wrong to him.
“You’re so good for me,” I tell him in a shaky voice. Praise, I can do. I can praise this man all fucking day. I move my hips in steady, sharp thrusts that are hopefully hard enough for him. “You’re taking this all so well. I love you so fucking much, Nol.”
He exhales, his fingers gripping the sheets and twisting them. “I love you, too,” he whispers.
I reach around his hip. His cock is hard. Oh, thank fuck.
I take it in my hand, ignoring the urge to spit in my palm first. He’d probably prefer it dry anyway. I jerk him with each thrust until he starts to shake beneath me. When the urge to have him closer feels overwhelming, I pull him up until his back is to my chest. It’s easier to jack him like this. Easier to kiss him, too.
I kiss every inch I can reach, giving him murmurs of praise in between.
“So good,” I tell him. “Such a good boy.”
He doesn’t come this time to those words, but he still shivers and moans, his cock leaking like a fucking faucet in my grip.
