He adds a second finger with the same hesitance, and I hiss, hips twitching. “Feels so fucking good,” I groan. “Stretch me open, Babygirl—just like that. Get me ready for that pornstar cock.”
His eyes are dark now, pupils blown wide, and his fingers move more smoothly, twisting, and when he crooks them just right, my hips jerk. My breath catches, and I hear myself let out a guttural moan.
Noah freezes instantly “Damien?”
“Right there,” I gasp, gripping the sheets tighter. “Fuck, baby, right there. Keep doing that.”
I feel every drag of skin, every careful curl, and it wrecks me in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve been with people before. I’ve beentouched. I’ve been opened. But this is different. This is Noah, all concentration and nerves, and that quiet intensity he gets when he’s doing something that matters to him. It’s making my chest feel too tight.
“There?” he pants, already knowing the answer. “You like that, Mien?”
I swear my vision whites out for a second. “I love it,” I breathe, the words breaking apart.
I lift one hand from the sheets and slide it down my stomach, between us, curling my fingers around his cock through the jock. Even through the fabric, it’s heavy, thick, and straining, and I groan softly when I feel it throb in my hand.
“Noah,” I say breathlessly. “I’m ready.”
He carefully pulls his fingers free, and I whine at the loss even as my body trembles. He looks startled by the sound, then pleased.
“You really want me in you,” he says, almost in awe.
I slide my hand up his arm, over his shoulder, to the back of his neck, and pull him down into a kiss.
“I wantyou,” I correct him, breathing hard against his lips. “Everything else is just details.”
When he pulls back, his voice is barely audible. “I think I’m ready, too.”
“I know you are,” I say, kissing his jaw. “We got our results, so it’s up to you if you wanna use a condom, baby. I’m fine with either.”
He thinks for a few seconds, then he shakes his head. “N-no. I want to feel you.”
Fuck. Me.
He’s hard, flushed, looking so fucking good above me in that pink lace and silver chain. When he looks back up at me, his confidence isn’t loud, but it’s there, threaded through his nerves. “Tell me what to do next.”
“Come here,” I murmur, spreading my legs wider, heels digging into the mattress again as I reach for him, guiding him between my thighs. “Take off your jock and slick up that fat cock with more lube. Then line yourself up with my hole. I’ll tell you when to push in.”
He does just that before he presses forward carefully, inch by inch, and the stretch burns in the best way, my hands gripping his wrists as I breathe through it.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You’re—shit—you’re big, Blue.”
“Too much?” he asks, panicked.
“No,” I breathe. “Just—give me a second to adjust. You feel incredible.”
He stills immediately, letting me set the pace. I feel him everywhere, the fullness making my head spin. He’s barely halfway in, and he already looks wrecked—eyes wide, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, that shaky tension in his shoulders that tells me he’s trying so fucking hard to be gentle.
“You okay?” he whispers, voice rough.
I nod, biting my lip, rolling my hips just the slightest bit to adjust. The stretch is intense, a slow burn that coils deep in my spine, but it’s worth every second of it. He’s thick, bigger than me, and it’s a lot, but it’s him, and that alone makes it good.
I breathe through it, savoring the weight of him, the sheer pressure of being filled by someone who’s looking at me like I’m something precious. There’s something addictive about the way he’s holding back for me. I cup the back of his neck, dragging my fingers through the short, damp hair.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” I murmur, brushing my lips against his ear. “You feel so fucking perfect. Don’t be afraid. You can go deeper.”
He shudders, his hands gripping my thighs. “Are you sure?”
I nod, arching my back slightly, opening up more for him. “Yeah. I want all of you.”
