I rub the back of my neck, conflicting emotions are at war inside me.
One part happily focusing on the fact Devon admitted I made him feel good, the other angry and confused at why that’s causing his entire body to radiate discomfort.
As if somewhere in his mind pleasure is a bad thing. And that doesn’t sit right with me.
I move closer, pulling on his shoulder until he’s flat on his back once again, then lean over him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
He huffs.
“Devon, sex issupposedto feel good. If it doesn’t then something’s wrong.” When he rolls his eyes I swipe a hand through his release on his stomach, bringing my slick fingers to his lips. “Taste.”
He turns his head, blushing fiercely. Maybe his initial reaction is from being embarrassed. Or just defiant since that seems to be his default. Didn’t take long for me to peg him as a brat.
So, I let a few seconds pass before trying again and swiping one finger against his lips. This time he tentatively swipes his tongue out.
“That’s it. Taste what pleasure feels like.” I work the finger slowly into his mouth until he’s sucking eagerly, then withdraw to swipe more and push two fingers back in.
His lips seal around them as I pump them slowly. “You were made to give andreceivepleasure.” I want him to know, no matter what shit the world’s come to, everyone deserves to experience pleasure.
He stops sucking for a moment, body tense, his thin brows furrowed, as if my words are somehow alien.
Or wrong.
Something inside my chest twists and I brush my thumb along his bottom lip. “Nothing wrong with this. Understand me?”
Instead of agreeing he goes back to sucking the cum off my fingers, as if trying to silence whatever’s going on in his head.
I scoot forward, pressing my body against his, driven by a need to comfort and protect him. “That’s my good boy.”
After a few minutes his gaze is unfocused, body loose, and he lets out a long moan that calls out to the primal part of me.
My hand travels down, sliding across his abs down to his inner thigh. I pull his leg over my hip then my fingers slip between his cheeks. “You felt so good stretched around my tip. Can’t wait to fully claim you. To fuck you deep.”
He quivers against me as I work him open, pushing my cum back inside. When he’s relaxed I withdraw my fingers, then reposition so I’m kneeling between his splayed thighs. I push his knees up and tease my swollen tip down his crease, before I start to nudge against his sloppy rim. “Ready?”
He takes a deep breath, then nods.
“You sure?”
“Old man, your sight going? I nodded. But since you may need glasses . . . yes.”
“Such a brat.” I press in slowly, groaning as his tight heat envelops me. “That’s it, bear down and open up.”
He whimpers, inner muscles fluttering as I sink deeper, and he grabs onto my biceps, nails digging into my skin as he squeezes with bruising strength.
“That’s it, Devon. You’re doing so well.”
Once fully seated, I start a measured pace, snapping my hips harder. The headboard slaps out my relentless rhythm as I drive into him, our slick skin bonding us as one.
I fuck him deep and thorough, drunk on his smothering heat, every thrust calling my release. My gaze locks onto his face, on the way his lips are parted, on the way he arches and grasps at the sheets.
Gone is whatever caused him distress, and if fucking him like this keeps it away, I’ll gladly keep doing it.
Eventually I slow to a deep grind, pushing his knees wider. “Look at that pretty hole stretched around me.”
I swivel my hips, stroking over his sweet spot until he chokes out desperate moans, moans that make my cock ache, knowing I’m the cause of such a delicious sound. But they also awaken something possessive in me that doesn’t ever want him to make those sounds for anyone else.
They're for me, and me alone.
