"You read the guide."
"I'm an overachiever." He kissed me, and his hand slid into my waistband. "I want to make this good for you."
"You know it's my first time."
"I know."
We wrestled the rest of our clothes off. Heath's pants tangled around one ankle because he'd forgotten to take off his shoes first. He kicked them free, swearing under his breath.
He reached for the lube. Poured it over his fingers with the same focus he gave pregame prep, deliberate, with no waste.
"Tell me if anything's wrong," he said.
"I will."
"I mean it. This isn't a shift you grit through."
He settled between my legs, one hand on my thigh, thumb tracing the inside of my knee. "Okay?"
"Yeah."
The first touch was careful. Slick and warm, circling before pressing, letting my body decide the pace. I breathed into it the way you breathe through a hard interval on the bike, steady, deliberate, the part of my brain that monitored everything loosening its grip one vertebra at a time.
One finger. Slow. My breath hitched.
"Good?"
"Yeah."
He worked slowly. Added more lube. His other hand rested flat on my stomach.
The second finger was more. The stretch, the strange fullness, and the moment where my body resisted and then didn't. Heathwaited through all of it, reading me the way he read the ice, watching for the opening, and committing when it came.
He curled his fingers into the perfect angle, and my hips lifted off the bed. The sound I made was involuntary, sharp, and stripped of filters.
Heath's eyes darkened. "There," he said.
He stayed there. Worked the spot with patient, relentless pressure, pushing the pleasure higher until my legs were shaking and the part of my brain that narrated everything had gone completely, mercifully quiet.
"Ready for this?" He held up the plug.
"Ready."
He slicked it and pressed it in slowly. My body closed around the widest point and settled. The fullness was constant, every nerve ending from my ribs to my knees recalibrating around it.
"Full," I said.
He kissed me while I adjusted. The plug shifted with every movement. When he pressed against me, and when his hand slid between us and wrapped around my cock. Each motion sent a pulse through my spine that I felt in my teeth.
He stroked me slowly while I kept it inside. Not building toward a climax yet. His cock lay against my thigh, hard and waiting.
"I want you." The words came out raw. "Heath. Now."
He pulled the plug out slowly. The absence was immediate; my body hungry to be filled again. He reached for a condom. Rolled it on. More lube. Generous.
"On your back? Or—"
"Like this. I want to see you."
