He gives me a huge shithead grin, “Or what?”
“Or the next thing I draw,” I pause and drop my voice all the way down, “is going to be a picture of you facing that mirror, watching your own reflection as I plow you from behind.”
His jaw drops open a fraction and I see a tiny intake of breath.
He wants it.
He wants it like I want it.
I take him roughly by the upper arm, “Turn around, spread your legs, and place your hands on either side of the mirror.”
He does as I say. He leans forward quickly, spreading his big hands flat against the wall. He spreads his legs wider than shoulder width apart and arches his back deeply – not strictly speaking what I told him to do. Usually when I’m in this kind of mood, I like him to do as I say to the letter, but I find I don’t mind him going off script, if that’s how he’s going to do it.
“It’s going to be fast and nasty. You ready?”
“Fuck, yeah. I want it.”
I get the lube and stand behind him, trailing a hand down his spine. “Eyes on me,” I say. “Eyes on me the whole time, okay?”
He meets my gaze and gives me a little open mouth nod.
I mean to prep him and fuck him fast like I said, but as my hand moves down his back and reaches the top of his crack, I find I can’t do it. I fall to my knees behind him, grabbing his ass cheeks in both hands and spreading them roughly. The feel of his smooth, creamy skin against my palms sends ripples of excitement through me. I knead his flesh with my hand and mash my face into him, diving into the middle of him with my mouth and my tongue. I’d love to tease him and take it slow, but tonight, I can’t. The smell of his skin and the warm, silky feel of it are too much for me. I spread him open hard and lick him gently up and down until he squirms, then I change to long circular strokes till he groans. I flick my tongue at his bud, nudging harder and harder until the tip of my tongue slides in. His knees buckle and he swears coarsely.
I get to my feet, taking the hair on the back of his head in my hand, twisting it in my fist, making sure his eyes are right where I want them. “Watch,” I say.
I let him see me lube my fingers and drop my hand down. I spread it between his cheeks and slide a slippery finger into him. His eyelids start sliding shut as he feels it but he quickly remembers and drags them open to keep his eyes fixed on me. I prep him fast but thoroughly, coating and stretching every inch my fingers can reach. The heat inside him burns through me. My temperature rises, I swear it does, as blood and arousal pump through my veins. My skin and my body feel tight and desperate to touch him. To fill him. To flood him with my seed.
I toss the lube down on the bed and spread his cheeks with one hand and line myself up with the other. I look up before I thrust. Our eyes meet. His are darker than usual, pale rings of blue around two big, blown-out black orbs. It’s the black part that tells me what I want to see.
Stories about him and me.
Stories of lust and longing and filthy things we want to do to each other.
Stories of love and coming home and finding forever.
His head bows down and his fingers curve, blunt nails digging into the wall in vain as I thrust. His neck tenses and a long, rough sound forces its way out of him. He doesn’t look down, though. He doesn’t close his eyes. He keeps them on me because that’s what I asked for.
I slide through the tightness of his first and second sphincters, clenching my teeth as I fuck into his heat. I give him a second to recover and then I start thrusting in earnest. Long, deep strokes. Fast and nasty, just like I promised. His body jolts forward with each thrust and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes throughout the room.
“Every time,” he gasps as he starts stroking his dick. “It feels like this every time. So good…so fucking good, it almost feels like too much. Feels like I’m breaking. Feels so good I don’t think I can take it anymore.”
I can tell he’s close. His voice is strained and he’s at that point where it feels like you’re suffering, like you’re being tortured, like you might die if you don’t nut. I know the feeling. I’m there, too. I fuck him harder. Harder and deeper. I hold nothing back. Pleasure radiates up and down my dick, spilling over to the rest of my body.
“Jess,” he moans, looking into my reflection, seeing straight through it and into me. “I’ll take anything if you’re the one giving it. Always. As long as I live, I’ll take whatever you have to give.”
The truth and the honesty and the vulnerability of his words break me. My balls tighten and come rockets out of me in thick, hot spurts. The ecstasy is blinding, almost brutal, as it tears through me and starts racking him, too.
Afterwards, we stagger to the bed, falling all over each other before arranging ourselves in our preferred position; him on his back, me on my side curled up beside him with my head nestled into the meat of his shoulder.
“Damn,” he says a couple of times.
We drift off in a catatonic slumber that’s so deep and involuntary, it feels like we’ve been drugged. I don’t know how long we sleep for, but it isn’t long enough. We’re both in the process of drifting down into deep slumber when we hear a soft, sad whimper from Adrian.
“Oh God,” I moan, “please, please no.”
“I’ll go,” says Luke, getting out of bed and stumbling down the hall bumping into the wall once or twice.
Every damn time I think I can’t love him more, he proves me wrong.
