Page 84 of Header
“That’s…” He swallows. “Different.”
“Good different?”
“I don’t know yet. Don’t stop.”
I don’t stop. I move my finger slowly, deeper, letting him feel it. His body opens around me in increments. His breathing iscontrolled the way Damián’s breathing is always controlled, and then I curl my finger and find the right angle and his control leaves the room.
“Fuck.” English. The language crashes first. “What is that?”
“That’s the spot. I’m going to do that again.”
“Yes, do it again.”
His hips push down against my hand and a sound comes out of him I’ve never heard, low and broken and wanting. His cock is leaking against his stomach, a line of pre-come catching the light.
A second finger. More lube. The stretch and his eyes go wide and then settle and his body opens further and I can feel him deciding to let me in. Not just physically. The deciding is in his eyes.
“You’re doing so well,” I say, and I mean it the way I mean everything, plainly.
“If you tell anyone I needed coaching, I’ll deny it.”
“Your secret is safe. I signed a confidentiality agreement with the lube.”
The laugh comes out of him startled and breathless because my fingers are still inside him and the laughing tightens his body around them and the tightening makes him gasp and the gasping makes me harder and the whole sequence is so perfectly us that I lean down and kiss his stomach and I’m smiling against his skin.
A third finger. He takes it. His hand grips the sheet. His other hand reaches for my hair and holds on, not pulling. Anchoring.
“Come here,” he says.
I pull my fingers out. I slick my cock. His eyes are on me, watching my hand on myself, and the watching makes his breath catch.
I position myself. The head of my cock against him. Heat. Pressure.
“Look at me,” I say.
His eyes find mine.
I push in slowly. The tightness of him around me is overwhelming and I stop halfway because the feeling is too much and if I move I’m going to lose something I can’t get back.
I feel him breathe. His eyes are wet at the edges. Not pain. Something else. Something that has been three years arriving.
“Keep going,” he whispers.
I push the rest of the way in. Full. His body around mine. His face open and unguarded and looking at me with nothing between us.
I hold still. I let him feel it. His hand moves from my hair to my face and his palm is against my cheek and his thumb is on my jaw and he’s holding my face while I’m inside him and the holding is the most intimate thing anyone has ever done to me.
“Move,” he says as he leans up to kiss me.
I move. Slow. The first thrust and his eyes go soft. The second and his hips tilt up to meet me. The rhythm finds itself the way it does in athletic bodies, the timing that lives in muscle, except this rhythm is new and ours.
“Tobík.” He says me name with awe. “Christ. I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That it could feel like this.”
I lean down. My forehead against his. The angle changes and he gasps. “Tell me what you feel.”
