Taylor parked his hands back on Fletcher’s hips and adjusted his angle. Fletcher let out a deep sigh of relief when Taylor slowly moved in and out of him. “Good?” Taylor asked.
Fletcher responded with a moan. Taylor reached back down to brush the hair out of Fletcher’s face. “Good boy, Fletcher,” he purred. “I’ll make you feel good.”
Taylor sped things up a little, thrusting hard and moving deepinside of him.
“So good,” Fletcher cried out. “I’m so fucking full.” Fletcher tried to turn his brain off and just… feel. He was done thinking. He needed release.
“Can I go faster, sweetheart?” Taylor panted. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“Please d—fuck,” Fletcher groaned, almost letting it slip out again. Now that he said it, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. His brain refused to cooperate.
“Say it, Fletch. It’s okay.” It came out so soft and reassuringly, like Taylor was trying to spare him the embarrassment. He truly was perfect and understanding. Fletcher didn’t deserve him.
“No,” Fletcher groaned. “It’s—”
“Say it,” Taylor commanded him more assertively, digging his nails into Fletcher’s skin. It shocked Fletcher a little. “I want to hear you say it.”
Taylor leaned over Fletcher as he continued to take him from behind. He slowed his pace down, but his thrusts got rougher and deeper. He pressed a kiss to the back of Fletcher’s head, and Fletcher whimpered each time Taylor hit his prostate.
What the hell was happening here? What the actual fuck? Was Taylor into this sort of thing?
Fletcher decided it was okay to test the water a little.
“Harder, daddy,” Fletcher spit out, wanting to gauge Taylor’s reaction.
“Fuck, baby,” Taylor groaned. He got rougher with each thrust. More possessive. He was telling Fletcher that he belonged to him without saying it. He was marking Fletcher as his own. There was no way that Taylor didn’t like this. Not from how hard he was fucking Fletcher senseless.
Fletcher felt lightheaded as he fought off his orgasm. He needed this to go on for as long as possible.
“Are you my perfect boy?” Taylor bit out. He kissed Fletcher’s forehead.
“Yes, daddy. You make me feel s-so good.” Taylor held Fletcher’s face in his hand and forced his thumb back into Fletcher’s mouth. Fletcher wrapped his mouth around it and sucked.
“Good job, sweetheart. Do you want me to come in this tight little hole, beautiful boy?”
“Mhm,” Fletcher hummed around Taylor’s finger. “Please, daddy.” Taylor pulled it out and spread the saliva roughly around Fletcher’s lips. “I need t-to,” Fletcher let out a sigh. “I won’t last.”
“Stroke yourself,” Taylor instructed. “Come for me, sweet boy.”
Fletcher reached down and finally touched himself. He was so painfully hard that he worried it would cause some sort of brain aneurysm from trying to not finish for so long. He needed release, and he needed Taylor to finish at the same time as him.
“Are you close?” Fletcher asked.
Taylor nodded.
Fletcher kept on stroking himself. Taylor was thrusting into him so hard that he thought he might pass out.
“Tell me you think I’m beautiful,” Fletcher cried out.
“So beautiful,” Taylor purred into his ear.
“Tell me you’ll never let me go.”
“Fuck, Fletcher,” Taylor muttered with emotion filling his voice. “I’m never leaving you. Not ever.”
“Tell me,” Fletcher let out a whimper as Taylor hit him at the perfect angle. “Tell me that you’re proud of me.”
“Fletcher,” Taylor sighed softly. He slowed down his thrusting. “I’m so fucking proud of you, baby. I fucking mean it.”
