I shake my head and pause, waiting to see if he wants to.
With absolutely no hesitation, he snatches the condom and frisbees it across the room.
A laugh sputters out of me.
“No magic either,” he says. “Just you. Just want you.”
Gods.
I crawl back up, kissing the hell out of him through my smile. He tastes like rich red wine and happiness.
“You gonna fuck me, Tourael?” I ask between kisses, and he groans, our dicks sliding together in increasingly frenzied pulls.
A click, a curse; his hands vanish from my body to figure out the lube before he’s guiding my mouth back to his and slippery fingers brush over my ass. I groan now, and when he circles one finger around my opening, my lips pop off his with a muddled grunt that gets lost in the pillow next to his head.
“Good?” he whispers, one tip easing in, easing out.
“So good.” It’s been a while, but it’shim,and that’s all I’m aware of. Thio easing a finger knuckle deep, pulling out. Thio gliding two fingers in this time, working me open. Thio pushing kisses to the sharp joint of my shoulder and smoothing his other hand down my back, whispering reassurances and promises and “You’re so tight, baby; you’ll feel so good wrapped around me. I’m gonna make you fly.”
I keep myself propped over him, but my body’s swerving and twitching, each drag of his fingers disconnecting wires and I’m short-circuiting.
“Thio,” I beg, already well past the point of caring. “Thio—enough, I’m ready.”
I grab for his dick, add more lube, and start to sit back on it when he locks his leg with mine and flips us again, him over top of me, grinning like a fool.
“No way.” He grabs my ankle and hooks it over his shoulder. “I’m taking care of you, remember? This is my ride. Buckle up.”
“Buckle—?” I laugh again.
He laughs, too, laughs as he’s fisting his cock to line up with my hole. Laughing as that laughter fights a losing battle with a keening sigh, then nothing is quite funny, but it’s still sweet somehow, sweet and intimate and so hot I’m incinerating from the base of my stomach, up and out.
He pushes through the first tight ring, slides all the way in with a rhythmic thrust. Everything whites out, awareness going static at the tidal wash of fullness, pressure; my breath is lodged in my throat along with a needy, slurring plea. He stays still, letting me adjust.
I grab at him, spearing my hand into his long hair, pulling him down into focus. “Move.”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck yes.”
He pecks my mouth. “You didn’t say please.” But he’s as winded as I am.
I laugh again; has it ever been thisfun? Gods, it’s breaking my heart and filling in the cracks all at once.
He moves, still seated deep, hips doing art as he rolls his pelvis and hits that spot inside me. My head throws back, mouth opening noiselessly.
Teeth in my neck, stabs of the best pain all the way up to my ear.
He stills again. “Say please.”
“Oh mygods,you bastard.”
“Yes. Say it.”
I lock my legs around his back, heels digging into his spine, and wiggle unsuccessfully; he’s got me pinned. No amount of whining or thrashing does a damn thing, and that sense of fullness is taunting, a ship there on the horizon.
Sweat pours off me, every nerve wound so taut I fear what the snap will bring.
“Please,” I relent, tugging at his arms, his neck. “Please, Thio, fuck me.Fuckme, own me, ruin me—”
