He gulped in quick, shallow breaths as his orgasm built, so close he could taste it, but then the pressure disappeared, leaving his hole empty and clenching, and he mewled with frustration.
The heat and weight of Cade's body disappeared, and he heard a snap and a wrapper crackle before three lube-coated fingers slid in, stretching him.
He needed this man to fuck him so badly that he was nearly hysterical. He wanted to beg some more, but his tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth, so only a low hum escaped.
"Eager, huh?" Cade taunted.
Tristan groaned, deep and throaty.
"What do you want, Tris?"
Willing to do anything to end this torment, he forced the words past his parched lips, "Fuck me, please."
Another chuckle. "So needy," Cade rumbled in a husky voice that made Tristan quiver with desire. "Such a slut for my cock."
At those words, he felt strong hands slide from his ass to his hips, then pull him to his knees, and before he could register what was happening, Cade thrust inside him quickly and brutally.
He screamed from both pain and relief but had no time to dwell on either because Cade started railing him, his fingers clawing into the meat of Tristan's hips. The savage thrusts shoved him forward several inches, causing him to grunt every time his partner bottomed out, then rough hands cruelly jerked him back so far it pulled against the ties on his wrist.
Despite the pain or maybe because of it, the burning in Tristan's gut ignited and blazed hotter and brighter until he muttered, "So close, don't stop."
When Cade responded by pulling out and flipping him roughly onto his back, Tristan sobbed with despair, his chest heaving and his cock so painfully hard he was sure the barest contact would make him come.
He listened to the other man's quiet panting, smelled the sweat and sex, felt the damp sheets beneath him, but for several tense seconds, nothing happened.
Not caring how pathetic he sounded, he begged, "Cade, please fuck me. I need to come so bad."
The sound was so faint that Tristan might have missed it, had the blindfold not sharpened his hearing. But he was sure: a gasp, quiet and involuntary, had escaped Cade's lips.
"You're so fucking beautiful like this, Tris."
The words blanketed him with warmth from his hairline to the tips of his toes, but he didn't have time to revel in it, because Cade bent his thighs to his chest, draped over them and slid back home. The feeling of being trapped, fully immobilized, was exhilarating, and this position resulted in the ideal angle for Cade's cockhead to drag over his prostate on every pass.
Tristan climbed again, fast and furious. "Yes, oh god, please let me come."
"You've been such a good boy, Tris. You can come now."
Tristan practically shouted with relief, but after a few seconds of waiting for a skilled hand to stroke him to completion, he became impatient.
"Cade, please touch me."
"You can come anytime, but you have to come on my cock."
Another growl of distress escaped from Tristan's throat. He was so close, he just needed a little stimulation, a little friction to his aching dick, and it would be enough.
"Come on, I wanna see you," Cade encouraged him.
"I can't... just... please," he pleaded, his voice scratchy.
"No, you can do it, baby. Just let it happen."
Tristan sucked in a wobbly breath and focused on the sensations around him: the rasp of Cade's shaky breaths, the slap of his balls against his ass, the feel of his sweat-slick chest gliding against his shins, and the invasion of his cock grazing his prostate with every stroke. He strained, strung unbearably tight, and he felt his legs crushed even closer to his body when Cade leaned down to kiss him, hot and dirty, even as his thrusts never faltered.
Then whispered words tickled his ear, "Come for me, Tris."
It was something about the quiet, husky command, or maybe the idea of doing it for Cade, but Tristan's pleasure surged, coiling in his belly, tingling his spine, climbing until it snapped, cracking through him, sharp and inescapable. His cock kicked, and he let out a long, tortured moan as Cade fucked him through it, murmuring that he was a good boy, that he had done well, that he was perfect.
He cried out, overwhelmed with euphoria, overpowered with emotion, overcome by a feeling dangerously close to ecstasy.
