Page 9 of Take Two

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his breath coming in sharp pants, his lips swollen from my kisses. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” The word is out before I can think better of it, raw and honest and terrifying. “All of you. Inside me. Now.”

His eyes darken, his pupils swallowing the color of his irises. “You sure?”

I nod, my throat tight, gripping him harder like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go. “I’m sure. I want to feel you for days.”

Something flickers across his face, something raw and a little bit desperate. Then he kisses me again, deep and filthy, his tongue slides against mine as his hands roam my body. His touch is possessive, reverent, like he’s committing me to memory. I arch into him, my body aches with need, my dick throbs against his stomach, screaming for his attention.

He reaches over me for lube and condoms from the nightstand. Then his fingers are there, slick and cool against my hole, pressing inside with a slow, deliberate stretch. I gasp. My body tenses for a second before relaxing into the intrusion, my breath hitches as he works me open with practiced ease. I don’t usually bottom, but for him, I want it all.

“Fuck!” My head falls back against the pillows, my fingers tangle in the sheets. “More.”

He obliges, adding another finger, scissoring them inside me until I’m a writhing, panting mess beneath him. His free hand wraps around my dick, stroking in time, and I spiral, my body tightens with every thrust. The dual sensations are almost too much, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m—”My hips jerk up into his touch. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that.”

He smirks, slow and wicked, his lips brush against my ear. “Not until I’m inside you.”

I groan, my body arches off the bed, my nails rake down his back. “Then hurry the fuck up.”

“Oh, Blue. You’re bossy,” he teases, but he doesn’t make me wait.

His fingers disappear, leaving me empty and aching. The tear of the condom wrapper is unnaturally loud. He lines himself up, the head of his dick presses against my entrance, slick and hot. I take a deep breath, force myself to relax, and he pushes inside, filling me, slow and steady. My vision blurs. The stretch is intense, bordering on painful, but it’s the good kind of pain, the kind that curls my toes and steals my breath.

“Fuck,” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. “You’re. . .it’s, ah, so big.”

He chuckles, low and rough, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my lips. “You can take it. All of it.”

And I do. I take every inch of him. My body stretches to accommodate his size until he’s fully seated inside me, his hips flush against mine. We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, our bodies adjusting to the sensation. His dick kicks inside me, thick and heavy, and my body clenches around him, trying to pull him deeper.

Then he moves.

It’s slow at first, shallow thrusts steal my focus and trap the air in my lungs. He picks up the pace, his hips drive into mine as the bed creaks beneath us. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper and lifting to meet each thrust. The angle shifts, and the next stroke catches my prostate dead-on. A sharp jolt races through me, whitening the edges of my vision and pulling a full-body shudder from me.

“Harder,” I gasp, dragging my fingers down his back, my nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin. “Fuck me harder.”

He obliges, his hips slam against mine. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with our ragged breaths and the occasional groan or whimper. His hand wraps around my dick again, matching the pace of his thrusts, and every stroke pulls me closer. The pleasure builds, coiling tight in my gut, my balls draw up against my body.

“I’m close,” I pant, lifting my head from the pillows as every muscle strains against the urge to let go.

“Cum for me, Blue,” he growls, his voice rough with want. His rhythm picks up, fucking me harder, more insistent. “Let me feel you squeeze my dick.”

I do. I let go. My body tenses as pleasure crashes over me in waves. My dick jumps in his hand. My release paints our stomachs and chests with thick, white ropes. He follows me over the edge a second later, buried deep inside me, his body tenses, his dick pulses and fills the condom with his release. The aftershocks leave us both trembling, our bodies slick with sweat and cum, our breaths coming in desperate gasps.

He collapses on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close. His heart hammers against my chest, the rhythm steady and sure, matched by the rise and fall of his breath against my neck. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing and the distant hum of the relentless noise of the New York night.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. His fingers brush my cheek, his touch gentle. My heart races in response. “Stay,” he murmurs, his voice soft, his eyes searching mine. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

I want to. God, I want to. The weight of tomorrow presses down on me, heavy and suffocating, the life I’m about to walk away from, the life I’m about to build. The way this feels like a dream I’ll wake up from. The way my parents would look at me if they knew, if they saw me like this, lost in the arms of a man who makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be. Right now, in this moment, none of that matters. Right now, all that matters is the way his body feels against mine, the way his breath catches when I roll my hips, the way he holds me against him, like I’m already his.

I nod, my throat tight, my voice barely a whisper. “Until morning.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push. Just nods, his fingers trace the line of my jaw, his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “Until the sun comes up.”

Then he kisses me again, slow and deep. His touch tender, almost worshipful, and I let myself melt into it, let myself pretend, just for a little while, that this could be more than just one night. That I could have this. That I could have him.

He rolls me onto my side, his body curling around mine, his dick already hardening again against my thigh. His fingers find my hole, used and still slick with lube. He discards the old condom and sheathes himself in another, then he pushes inside me with a slow, deliberate stretch. Lifting my leg over his, opening me up for him, he wraps his hand around my dick, and I’m hard instantly. I arch into him, my body aches with need, my breath comes in sharp pants as he fucks me slow and deep, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that feels like a promise.