“Hands on the counter.” His voice is icy. He sounds every inch like the demon I know damn well he is. “Bend over and think about what’s about to happen to you.”
Not going to lie, hearing him like this makes me feel like my dick’s been injected with steel. I’m shockingly, achingly hard. I’m distantly aware that it’s probably not wise to give a guy like him carte blanche on my ass but I’m even more aware that right now, I couldn’t muster up a lick of common sense if my life depended on it.
I hear him leaving the room. Sure, quick steps echo down my hallway to my bedroom and then back again. He drops the condom on the kitchen counter beside me and flicks open the bottle of lube. He wastes no time getting me ready. He slides the first finger in slowly. So slowly and so gently, I’m lulled into a heady, false sense of security. He does the same with the second. The third goes in harder. Faster. It knocks a loud, startled breath out of me.
“Shhh,” he whispers. “You’re going to need this.”
Holy fuck.
I’m not ready for Demon as a crazed top. I mean, I’ve thought about it. I like bottoming. I don’t do it that often, but I like it when I do. Usually, the kinds of guys I fuck are nervous, cautious tops. Usually, it’s more a case of me impaling myself, than it is of me getting fucked. Something tells me, that’s seconds from changing.
Damon is rubbing his boner against my thigh, against my ass cheek and as soon as he pulls his fingers out, he’s pressing his cock into my crack. He strokes it up and then all the way down. He starts stroking up again, but instead of glancing my hole, he notches his head into me. The swollen tip inches in, stretching me slowly, but stretching me hard. I try to relax, but fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve bottomed, and an even longer time since I was fucked by a dick like his.
I grunt in relief when the head sinks in. I feel my sphincter circle him tightly, trying to close now that the thickest part of him is inside me. I’m walking the fine line between pleasure and pain, trying to remind myself how to relax and let it happen. Fragments of familiar feelings are floating around me. I try to catch them. To collect them. To pull them together into something orderly and useful. I’ve barely remembered what I need to do, when he snaps his hips and thrusts himself all the way in.
“Fuck!” I gasp softly.
He answers by drawing back and thrusting again.
“Fuuuuck!” This time it isn’t a gasp, and it isn’t soft either.
My voice is hoarse and desperate. I’m playing catch up with him. Trying to open my legs wider, bend my knees more, arch my back the way I now know I need to. He wastes no time, punching, solid, jarring thrusts of pure pleasure straight up my ass.
He’s groaning with each thrust. Panting. Breathless. His fingers are digging into my hips. Hard. So hard, I can tell he’s not going to last long. I start jacking my dick. I do it fast. As fast as I can. I’m chasing my orgasm down. Blood is thundering in my ears. Pleasure pumps through my veins. Black spots appear before me. I clench my teeth, fighting for what’s right in front of me. It’s close, it’s so close I can taste it, but I can’t touch it.
I’m moaning long and frantic. He answers by pounding me harder. Harder and harder, until I feel like I’m going to crack open. I turn my head back, desperate to find what I want. What I need. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pushes me down with his weight, making me bend my knees a little more. My face is in line with his. His lips are tantalizingly close. He lifts himself up on his toes, spearing into me even deeper than he already was, as he leans in and offers me his tongue. I want his lips. His teeth. His tongue. I want his sweet kisses, sure, but most of all I want kisses like these; nasty and vicious. Like him.
I reach back and pull him as close to me as I can possibly get without injuring one of us. Our tongues fight each other. The rough, wet friction gives me what I need. I fall apart instantly. I crack. I break. I split into pieces and shoot all over the kitchen counter. My ring tightens around him as each wave hits. It tries to clamp shut, but he keeps forcing it open, driving my peak higher each time he does it. I fall forward, vaguely aware of the icy counter under my chest. Profoundly aware of the perfect cock reaming me. I finally stop bucking and tensing. I go limp on the counter and let him take everything I have to give. Everything and more.
He shouts his release, brash and angry, as he floods my ass with spurt after spurt of piping hot semen.
He pulls out quickly. Silence fills the room. Neither of us move. Me, because I can’t. Him, because he’s watching his seed trickling slowly out of me. I can feel his eyes on me. I feel him dipping his fingers into what he made. He scoops it up and pushes it slickly back inside me. His fingers slide into me, easier now, but I’m so over sensitive it makes me grunt all the same.
He gulps audibly and pulls out quickly, as if he’s only just pieced together what he’s done. “Shi…Fu…I didn’t use a condom.”
I push myself up off the counter and onto unsteady legs. I pull up my jeans, leaving the fly undone.
“Fuck. Sorry, Joey. I’ve never done that before.”
“Don’t be sorry, it’s fine. I know you got tested after, what did you call it, the fucked up little vacay I took you on, and I know you haven’t been with anyone since.”
“Oh, really?” A quick spark of annoyance flickers across his features. “And how’d you know that?”
“’Cause I watch you, dumbass, and it’s been a while since I've seen anything that made me feel homicidal.”
A quick, harsh breath bursts out of him. His eyes light up and for a second he seems to deliberate whether he should give me the satisfaction of a belly laugh. The sound fizzes out of him, taking the choice from him, and bringing me a level of satisfaction that seems out of proportion with the significance of a single laugh.
“So?” His eyebrows shoot up and his head twitches several times. “Are you going to share your status with me?”
“Nah.” I smile.
“Jesus Christ, you are such a fucking pain in the ass.”
I lean back, perching on a kitchen stool, wincing exaggeratedly as I do it. “I think we both know I’m the one with the pain in the ass right now.” His expression is unreadable. I can’t tell if what I’ve just said has him pleased or concerned. I take mercy on him. “I’m all good, okay. My panel is clear. Don’t worry about it.”
I seem to have provoked him, or maybe it’s just the way he is, because he seems to feel the need to take a swipe at me. “Know what I found in your drawer when I got the lube?”
I know exactly what he found, but I want him to say it, so I give a careless shrug.
