I freeze immediately, pulling back, both hands raised. "Sorry. Too much?"
"No. I mean—" He rolls onto his back, looking up at me with eyes that are dark and conflicted. "I—I don't know how I feel about this."
I scoot back slightly, giving him space, making sure he can see I've stopped completely. "That's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"No, not like that." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, and I can see him struggling with the words. "I want—I think— I don't know…"
My heart squeezes in my chest. "Ace, we can just—"
"I've never—" He stops, swallows hard enough that I can see his throat work. "I mean…" He moves his hand to trace his finger over the inside of my forearm, parking his gaze there as well, like he's avoiding mine. "I don't necessarily want you to stop."
"No?" I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, trying to pour reassurance into it. "I'll do whatever you want. But…you have to be sure. Like, really sure."
He looks at me for a long moment, and I can see him thinking. Weighing. Deciding. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, his cock hard and tenting his boxers.
Then he spreads his thighs.
Wide.
An invitation if I've ever seen one.
"I'm sure," he says, and his voice is steady now. "I trust you."
Those three words hit me harder than they should, settling somewhere deep in my chest where they have no business being.I trust you.
"Okay," I say softly, reaching for the waistband of his boxers. "But if you want to stop at any point, you tell me. Promise?"
"Promise."
I help him out of his boxers, sliding them down his legs and tossing them aside. And then he's fully naked, spread out on my bed, vulnerable and trusting and so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.
I pour more lube into my palm, warming it between my hands while I just look at him. At the way his cock lies hard andflushed against his stomach. At the way his thighs are spread, muscles relaxed now.
At the way he's watching me with those huge eyes, waiting.
I start with his balls again, massaging gently, re-establishing the rhythm we had before. He relaxes into it, his eyes fluttering closed, his mouth falling open slightly.
I let my hand drift lower, fingers sliding over his perineum, that sensitive spot between his balls and his hole. The touch is feather-light, barely there, but he gasps like I've done something intense.
I do it again, pressing slightly firmer this time, and his hips shift, pressing back into my touch. "Okay?"
He answers with an affirmative hum.
I circle his hole with one slick finger, not pushing in, just touching, letting him get used to the sensation. His body instinctively tenses for a moment, but then he takes a breath and relaxes, his thighs falling open even wider.
"You're doing great," I tell him, circling again, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure. "So good for me."
I press against his hole, just the tip of my finger, applying gentle but steady pressure. His body resists for a moment, muscles clenching, but then he takes another breath and I feel him consciously relax as my finger slides in to the first knuckle.
"Oh," he breathes, and the single syllable feels loaded somehow.
"Still okay?"
I hold completely still, letting him adjust to the intrusion, and watch his face carefully. His brows furrow slightly, likehe's concentrating, trying to process. After a few seconds, his expression smooths out and he nods slightly. "Yeah. Weird. But okay."
I move my finger deeper, slowly, achingly slowly, until I'm all the way inside. He's so unbelievably tight, and hot, and the trust he's showing me right now is staggering.
"How do you feel?" I ask, keeping my voice low and steady.
