He breathes into my mouth, stealing the air from my lungs and replacing it with fire.
“Oh god,” I say, feeling my body arch toward him.
“Oh fucking god… Oooo…”
My vision blurs. Cum spurts from my dick like champagne foam. Elijah is moving and moaning. I’m still fucking coming—ropes of it, jetting across my stomach, chest, and even my neck.
I pant and cough. Heart sprinting in a race I never signed up for.
A shaky breath rattles through me as I try to hold myself together—even while my body begs for more.
I glance down.
Holy fuck.
The sight steals my breath.
There’s so much cum on my skin, I’m not even sure if it all belongs to me.
“Condoms?” Elijah rasps across my battered lips.
Well, there’s my answer, he’s still rock fucking hard. Thick and straining.
“No. No condoms.”
“Lube?”
Fuck. Why hadn’t I thought about getting lube?
“Nope,” I say, voice tight with frustration.
Elijah smiles as he begins kissing me again, dragging his fingers through a copious amount of cum on my neck. I open my mouth to apologize when suddenly I feel those cum-covered fingers walking down my body—all the way down, skimming over my ass, and finally coming to rest on my virgin hole.
And I freeze.
Not gonna lie… I’m nervous as fuck. My heart’s hammering like it’s trying to escape my chest.
“Alex,” he whispers, fingertips gently massaging my fluttering hole.
I try to relax…reallytry.
I focus on the gentle touch of his fingers against my skin, the way they linger just long enough for me to breathe and adjust to the sparks beneath the surface.
And then there’s the sound of my name—soft, deliberate—each letter slipping off his tongue like he’s tasting it for the first time, and savoring every syllable: A… L… E… X.
The way he says it wraps around me, warm and slow, pulling me deeper into the moment. I drag in a shaky breath and hold it, clinging to that sliver of control… until I can’t anymore.
Then I let it go in a rush, surrendering to the heat, the closeness—trusting him completely, even as my pulse races with everything that’s coming next.
“Yes,” he whispers, slipping a finger inside. “Relax for me, love. Just like that.”
It’s the way he touches me—gentle but sure—and the way he speaks—soft and steady, like he’s grounding me with every word.
That’s what undoes me.
Not the urgency, not the heat, but the quiet certainty of him. And slowly, the tension I’ve been gripping like armor begins to fall away, piece by piece.
My lips part, a breath of air escaping like a whisper, carrying the weight of every unspoken want I’ve tried to bury.
