“But the pain won’t last,” soothingly. “I promise you that. I’ll make you feel good, Lucas. You just have to trust me. Let me take care of you.”
His voice is like a warm, heavy blanket, pulling me into him even as I’m trembling beneath the weight of what’s about to happen.
“I trust you,” I whisper, voice cracked, full of breathless hope. And I do. I really do.
Alex lets out a low, guttural sound, something between restraint and raw need.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “That means a lot to me, baby.”
Then, slowly, carefully, he begins to push in.
The first inch makes me cry out softly, my whole body locking up as the burn tears through me, sharp and immediate. I jam my eyes shut, choking back the sound rising in my throat. Tears well fast, blurring the edges of everything.
“Breathe, baby,” Alex whispers, his voice soft but strained. I can hear how tightly he’s holding himself back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head faintly, wanting to tell him not to be. Don’t be sorry. I want this. I want you. I force my lungs to expand, in and out, grounding myself in the sound of his voice, in the warmth of his hand on my side.
And slowly, I let go. My body eases, tension slipping just enough, and he feels it.
“There you go,” he breathes, as if it kills him to go slow. “That’s it, Lucas.”
He pushes deeper, inch by inch, until I feel more stretched, too big, too much, yet somehow… somehow not enough. I’m shaking beneath him, and a tear escapes from my closed eyes, not from the pain, not really, but from the intensity of this all, from just how much happiness I feel that he is the one I am giving this to, that he is the one claiming me.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, every inch he gives me dragging a sound from my throat that’s somewhere between pain and need.
You’re doing so good,” He groans, the strain in his voice unmistakable. “So good for me, baby. Fuck, you’re tight. You feel unreal…”
I open my eyes through the haze of tears, and I find him watching me—his brows drawn, jaw clenched, pupils blown wide with desire. But behind all that, I see something deeper: restraint. He’s holding himself back, not because he doesn’t want more, but because he’s waiting for me.
The patience in his face for me makes something shatter open inside my chest.
I arch my hips, just slightly, inviting him in.
He lets out a low groan and gives in to the invitation, sinking the rest of his thick length inside me in one slow, torturousthrust, I cry out, clutching at his arms for something, anything, to hold on to.
My legs tremble violently and it feels like I’m being split open.
Alex leans down, pressing his forehead to mine. His breath is hot against me, ragged and desperate.
“Are you alright?” he asks, brushing his hands against my temple and wiping away the tears that escaped.
I give him a reassuring nod, letting the trust I have in him show in my eyes.
He brushes the damp hair from my forehead, kissing it with aching tenderness.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs. “I’ve never…fuck, Lucas,—I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”
His words ripple through me, a different kind of pleasure blooming beneath the ache still lingering in my body. My legs are still trembling, muscles sore, but inside me, something burns hotter. Wanting. Needing.
“Wrap your legs around me, krasivy,” he says, voice low and commanding, rich with that soft Russian edge to his voice when he calls me krasivy.
My body moves before my brain catches up, instinct pulling my legs around his waist.
“I’m going to move,” he whispers, breath ragged now. “Just a little. Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
I give him a shaky nod.
He draws back, just slightly, barely an inch, then slides back in slow, deliberate motion.
