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I tried to move, but he held me still.
“Uh-uh. Don’t move.”
“Come on, Alastair,” I whimpered, and he laughed. I smiled, because he was so utterly calm and in control, and I fucking loved it. And I tried to wriggle again.
He sighed and gave me a pitiful look that only inflamed me more. “Oh, Toby. Am I going to have to pound you to make you behave?”
“Yes! Pound me. Please, please,please.”
No one had ever rolled their eyes while they were buried to the hilt in me, but it did crazy, wonderful things to my brain. I moaned and pleaded and begged and finally,finally, Alastair started to fuck me.
“You are such a pretty little thing,” he muttered as he rocked against me, leisurely at first, then with purpose. “I’m going to wreck you and break you, my pretty little bird. I’m going to make you scream my name when you come.”
“Yes, Sir, yes, Sir, yes, Sir,” I mumbled between gasps as he pounded me into the mattress.
“So pretty. So, so, pretty and sweet and dainty, little Toby, the molly boy. So fucking lovely,” he grunted in time with his thrusts.
His words were caresses as he fucked me, his cock a welcome ramrod, brushing my prostate again and again. This was it. I was going to come.
As if Alastair had heard me say it out loud—I didn’t—he wrapped his fingers around my cock and jerked me, fast.
“Alastair!” I yelled, the orgasm barreling through me in a burst of ecstatic pleasure.
He said my name and bent his forehead to my shoulder, his motions becoming quicker and shallower until he froze, groaning and shuddering in my arms.
We lay there, breathing hard, for long moments. Alastair had collapsed on top of me, and I welcomed his heavy ballast. He was still deep inside me as I drew my fingers along his beautiful biceps and kissed the top of his head.
“Wow,” I said, truly shaken.
Alastair finally lifted his head and gazed at me with emotion. Then he reached down and held the base of the condom as he eased himself out and lifted off me.
“Well. That was…” he said.
“Uh-huh,” I commiserated as I stared at the plastered ceiling and tried to decide if I’d seen Jesus or the Dalai Lama at the moment of climax. It was one of those two, I was sure.
“You okay?” he said, turning toward me.
“Fuck yeah. Oh, I mean, yes, Sir, I’m just fine. Thank you, Sir.”
Alastair grinned. “You’re good at that.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to call me that.”
“I know.”
Alastair laughed. “Oh my God. You are so damn cute. I hate you for it a little.”
“Whaaat?”
“Only because I like it so much. You see, I had built this very strong fortress of ‘only in it for the kink’ around myself. And you’ve broken right through that façade.”
“Huh. Go me,” I said, bumping my fist in the air. “To be honest, I’m a little pissed that the vanilla sex with you is so good, because I want to try the kink but you seem to be having some kind of vanilla awakening. I’m worried you’re going to abandon your kinky side forever,” I said, with a dramatic and forlorn look.
And he laughed, his face the picture of innocence and mischief combined.
“Ah, Toby. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
