The change in me is the same.
Arousal rages through me, and I really do meanrages. I go from being normal to being on fire instantly. It’s a rampant heat that could burn cities to the ground. A blaze that could scorch buildings and leave nothing but ash in its wake.
A heat with enough force to flatten me.
And it does.
I can’t move. I can’t, and I don’t want to because Connor is different now. Connor, who’s always the same, looks different. There are flames in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw. His entire body has tensed, muscles rippling in the wake of his attack.
A dark heat trickles from him into me.
I respond to it as if it were made for me. As if I was made for it.
Tension bleeds out of me, not a little, a lot. All of it. All of it leaves me, and like that, I’m soft and pliable, bled out completely in its wake.
Connor reaches between us like I did moments ago and slides his hand down my shaft and over my balls. Pleasure takes hold and dances up and down my shaft, and then my balls. He holds them for a tantalizing second. Palming them. Cradling them so securely that it gives me the beat I need to breathe and let myself catch up with what’s happening.
Connor watches and waits, the flames in his gaze lapping at me and burning me harder.
Then he reaches lower.
He doesn’t penetrate me. He just teases me, lightly stroking my asshole with the pad of his finger. It’s unexpected and expected at the same time. In an abstract way, I realize I’ve wanted him to touch me there for a while. A long while.
In reality, it’s more personal and sensitive than I was expecting. It’s harder to allow, but also easier because it feels so damn good.
It’s a lot, and not nearly enough. It shatters something brittle in me, around me, and drowns the rest of me in lust. Thick, pure liquid lust that spills into every crevice, every space, every cell in my body.
I vibrate with it.
Shake with it.
I look at Connor in mute frustration. Confusion. Desperation.
Of course, because he’s Connor, he sees it and slows things down. He takes me into his arms, catching me, and holding me, as I somersault through open space. When I land, when I’m safe and contained, I open my eyes and look straight into him. Into the middle of him. Into the heart of who he is as a person.
Flames still dance at his edges, but he’s himself again. His good self. His sweet self.
“I think we should talk about what happens next,” he says, releasing my wrists and transferring his weight onto his elbows. He’s directly on top of me, but not heavy. His erection grazes mine. A suggestion, an offer, not a demand, or even a request.
It sets me at ease and strips me of the last of my bravado.
“What do you want to do?” I ask in a soft voice that sounds nothing like mine. At least, it sounds nothing like mine usually does. Nothing like the voice I usually speak with. It sounds a lot like the voice I think with. The one in my head. The one I go to some length to ensure other people don’t hear.
“I’m vers, so I’m easy.” A shard of amusement curls his lips. He finds it funny to call himself easy. My lips quirk too. There’s a joke in there somewhere about being pan and vers, but when he looks into my eyes, he smooths my hair out of my face, and I forget everything except how it feels when he touches me. “I like it both ways, so we can do whatever you want.”
He says it like something he’s said before, likely more than once. Likely, many times. I know instantly that that’s what sex is for him. A way for him to please others. To make them feel good. To give them what they want. To mold his desires to theirs and let their pleasure become his.
That’s not what I want at all.
I want to mold my desire to his.
My body to his.
“I don’t want that.” My voice is still soft and wispy, but certain. “I want to do whatyouwant to do. Not what you think I want todo. I want you to tell me what you want. What you really want, and I want to do that.”
I’m in uncharted waters, and I’m aware of that. I’m offering a lot. Things I’ve never done before. Things I haven’t offered to anyone. Things I’ve never considered offering to anyone else. It’s not the answer he was expecting, and it catches him off guard, making his jaw hitch.
I shift beneath him, bumping my cock against his. “What do you want, Con? Tell me, and it’s yours.”
