Oh, fuck.
This isn’t good.
His touch is rough, the curl of his fingers unforgiving. He grabs my jaw and pulls me down toward him, crashing his mouth to mine. I lose myself in him, rocking faster, thighs clamped tightly around his hips as he fucks my hole with his fingers. I can’t explain the hurricane of feelings taking place inside my chest, but I can say with certainty I’ve never felt like this before. Like I could give myself over to him.
I’ve only ever bottomed for one other person, and it’s been centuries since I did it. I never in my wildest dreams could’ve imagined I’d want to do it again. I swore to myself I wouldn’t. But with him? Everything feels natural, even the way I bloom for him like a pretty little flower. He’s not dominant in the slightest, and yet I’m submitting anyway. And Elijah? He’s eating it up, not missing a step. Not a single one.
Elijah’s fingers graze over my prostate, lighting me up from the inside out, and I lose it. “Y-yes, yes,please, right there,” I mewl. “Don’t stop. Fuck me, Eli. Harder, please.”
He pumps his fingers in and out faster and harder, curling them against my prostate, and moans when I grind against him harder, putting all my body weight on him. I tilt my hips, arching my back and pushing my ass back against his fingers, trying to give him even better access. Trying to give him everything. Every single part of me is on the line right now, and I don’t know how to hold myself back.
“Az,” Elijah says through gritted teeth, and my stomach flips at the nickname. I’m dancing on the edge of a cliff, and I just need one more little push to free-fall. “I need you to come. Please come.”
“I’m right there,” I reply, breath hitching, catching in my throat. His swollen head brushes against mine as I grind against him, and with one more pump of his fingers against my prostate, I spray him down with my cum. “Oh, f-fuck, Eli. You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?” I moan as my cock pulses, and his begins to throb and pulse too. His entire body tenses as he comes, and his fingers are still inside of me as he throws his head back and exposes his throat to me. I bite down on his Adam’s apple, and he rocks his hips frantically, riding out his orgasm. “Oh, fuck me, you’re so goddamn pretty.”
Elijah’s eyes fly open, lips parted as he pants, chest heaving rapid breaths. “Language,” he scolds. “You curse too much.”
I chuckle, shaking my head, but don’t say anything. His eyes narrow on me momentarily, and then he’s pulling his fingers out of me. It draws a hiss from my lips, and I feel a dull sting as he raises an eyebrow at me, clearly daring me to curse once more.
I don’t do it.
Instead, I grin and get off him. There’s cum everywhere. All over his chest and abs, his groin, dripping down his sides. It clings to his skin, and I get a rag and wet it with warm water, bringing it back to him to clean him up. His eyes immediately fly to my face when I do it, wiping gently and then folding it over, running it over my skin too. Blue orbs dip down to watch me as I run the rag over my groin, then my cock. He focuses on my cock, his eyes widening, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip. He looks ready to go again, but I smirk and turn, putting the rag in his hamper.
I go back to him, nudging him with my hand until he scoots over, then get in bed with him and pull his back to my front. My arm is wrapped around his middle, my nose buried in the back of his head, soft hair tickling my nose.
“W-what in the world are you doing?” Elijah hisses, trying to disentangle himself from me, but I don’t let him. Instead, I holdhim tighter, sealing us together until not even an inch of space exists between us.
“Staying,” I reply simply.
“You can’t.” He shakes his head, trying to sit up, but I hold him down again. “You’ll be seen, Az.”
“I won’t,” I assure him.
He hesitates momentarily, then relaxes into my hold, melting against my body. He feels hard and soft at the same time, and I can’t even explain what this is doing to my head. I’m totally fucked. It feels like history is repeating itself, but worse. Because this time, I have no excuse. I’ve already been cast out, so who even cares if I keep him? But then that would mean handing over my heart again, and last time I did that, it was shattered.
What if they take him away from me again?
What if his faith is stronger than what we could ever have?
Fuck.
I really need to get out of my head.
Thick silence envelops us, and I can make out Elijah’s shallow breaths like he’s pressed up against my ear. He calms down after a few minutes, his chest rising and falling slower, and I smile against the back of his head.
“Tell me about you,” I whisper, not wanting to be heard outside of the room. I have no idea how loud I was, and that can be dangerous here. It is the middle of the night though, so hopefully everyone is asleep.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, and his voice is hesitant.
“Everything,” I reply, tightening my arm around his waist, and he tenses. “Anything.”
“Uh.” Elijah clears his throat. “I don’t really know what to say if I’m being honest.”
“Tell me about your childhood.”
My prompt gives him pause, and I hear him suck in a sharp breath. He’s stiff as a board in my arms, and I realize I’ve struck a nerve. But right as I’m about to tell him to forget about it, he speaks.
“My dad is a preacher,” he tells me, relaxing into my hold once more. “He’s always wanted me to become a man of God. Said I had no choice.”
