I shrug, then take him deep. Inch by inch, I work him over, gagging until I find a rhythm.
“God, that mouth…” he moans. “Stand up.” He helps me to my feet and kisses me with a heat that makes my knees weak. His hands roam to my ass. “Last chance to change your mind.”
I make a show of turning around and pushing my ass into his crotch. I grind against him with a cheeky wiggle. His hand comes down in a sharp smack, making me gasp.
“Behave,” he growls.
I laugh softly, bracing myself against the wall. Arching my back, I offer myself up. His hands knead my cheeks, soothing the sting before he kisses the spot. I glance over my shoulder just as he sinks to his knees behind me.
He grips me, spreads me, and then breathes hot across my skin before he slowly drags his tongue from behind my balls to the top of my crack. I groan and press my forehead to the warm tiles. He eats me like he’s starving, licking and sucking until my brain short-circuits.
“I’m gonna start stretching you.” He dips his fingers into the oil, then slides one in. I moan at the intrusion.
“Your ass sucked me right in,” he groans. “Think you can take another?”
I nod frantically, beyond words. Every second of prep is careful and loving, and I can feel how much he’s holding on to me, anchoring himself in this moment.
He moves his fingers in and out, slow and steady. I focus on my breathing, staying relaxed so he can work me open. But the fire burning inside me is raging, and I’m ready to be turned to ash.
“Baby, please,” I pant.
“Patience,” he murmurs. “We have to walk before we can run.”
I huff a strained chuckle. “Now’s not the time for philosophical declarations.”
“Mmm,” he hums. “Then maybe it’s time for a third finger.”
Fuck, I’ve never needed anything more.
He presses in, my body greedy for it. I moan as he scissors his fingers, my muscles slowly giving way.
“Please, Hud,” I whisper, desperate now. “I need to feel you. Please…”
“This started with you saying you were going to makemebeg.” His voice is smug, but he’s being so gentle. “Look how the tables have turned.” He stands, his chest brushing against my back.
“Please,” I beg again, so hard I’m ready to explode from just the anticipation.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes against my ear.
He withdraws his fingers carefully, and I have to bite my lip against the whimper rising in my throat. Then I feel him shift behind me, hear the low rustle of movement, and brace myself.
“I love you,” I tell him, my voice rumbling against the tile wall.
He pauses, leaning in to press a kiss between my shoulder blades. “I love you, too. So damn much.”
And then he’s pushing in.
His cock breaches me, the sensation nothing like his fingers. It’s thicker, hotter, and the stretch burns just enough to make my breath hitch. His hand settles on my lower back, steadying me.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice tight with restraint.
“Yes, keep going.”
He rocks out, then back in. Once, then twice, before bottoming out on the third stroke. We both groan, his breath ragged against my damp skin. “Holy shit, Cull,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“I’m so full,” I moan. “You feel massive right now.”
He snorts, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades. “You’re good for my ego. I need to move, okay?”
