"Holy shit," he manages when he can speak. "Holy fucking shit. I've never come that hard. Your mouth—swallowing my cum like that—fuck, Ivan."
"Good?" I crawl back up his body, settling my weight on him again, my own erection pressing against his hip, but content to ignore it for now as I kiss his slack mouth, sharing the lingering taste of him.
"Ivan." He lifts his head just enough to look at me, and his eyes are dazed, unfocused. "That was the best thing that's ever happened to me in my entire life. Where did you even—how did you know how to—"
"I didn't. I just did what felt right. What I thought you'd like." I lean down and kiss him, and he must be able to taste himself on my lips but he doesn't seem to care. He kisses me like I'm air and he's been drowning.
"Was it okay?" I ask when we break apart. "I didn't hurt you? I feel stupid asking these questions."
"You didn't hurt me. You fucking destroyed me." His hands come up to grip my face, pull me down for another kiss. "In the best possible way. I don't think I can move. I think you broke me."
I laugh against his mouth.
"Your turn," he says after a moment. "I'm dying to make you feel as good as you just made me feel. I want to wreck you the way you wrecked me."
"You don't have to—you just came, you don't need to—"
"I want to." He rolls us over with more strength than I expected, reversing our positions, and now he's on top, straddling my hips, looking down at me with dark, hungry eyes that make my cock throb.
He kisses me again, deep and slow and thorough, his tongue sliding against mine. I can feel him already starting to harden again against my thigh, the semi-firm length pressing insistently. We're young. We recover fast. And apparently almost dying from an orgasm isn't enough to keep him down for long.
"I want to explore you," he says, his lips brushing mine. "Every inch—your skin, your muscles, your cock, your ass. Is that okay? Can I take my time with you, touch you everywhere?"
"Yes. God, yes. Do whatever you want. I'm yours—touch me, taste me, finger me if you want. I want it all."
He starts at my neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my throat, finding the spot just below my ear that makes me shiver and gasp, my body arching up instinctively. His hands are on my shoulders, sliding down my arms, mapping the muscles there with his palms, fingers digging in just enough to feel the give of flesh over hard-earned strength.
"You're so solid," he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot and teasing. "I keep saying it, but I can't get over it. You were this skinny little kid, all elbows and knees, and now you're—" He squeezes my bicep, feeling the thick muscle flex under his grip. "This. You're built like someone who works with their hands. Like someone who's strong enough to hold me down and fuck me senseless."
"Working construction will do that. Carrying lumber and tools all day."
"I like it." He kisses across my collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste my skin, lapping at the faint saltiness. "I like all of it. I like that you can pin me down. I like your weight on me."
His mouth moves lower, finding my nipple, and when he sucks on it—harder than I did to him, swirling his tongue around the tight, dusky peak—I groan and arch up into him, my hands fisting in the sheets, cock jumping against his thigh.
"Sensitive?" he asks with a grin, pulling back to look at my face, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Apparently. I didn't know—I've never—fuck, Jay, that feels incredible."
"Good. I'll remember that." He does it again, harder this time, using his teeth to nip gently, tugging just enough to send a sharp jolt straight to my groin, and I nearly come off the bed. "I like learning what makes you lose control, what makes this big body of yours tremble for me."
He moves to the other one, giving it the same treatment—licking flat and broad, sucking deep and wet, biting gently until I'm panting, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on my skin. My cock is so hard it's almost painful now, throbbing insistently, pre-cum leaking from the tip.
"Your stomach," he says, kissing down my abs, tracing the defined ridges of muscle with his tongue, dipping into the valleys between them. "Do you know how many times I stared at your stomach last weekend? When you came out of the shower in just that towel, water dripping down these lines?"
"You were staring at my stomach?" I manage to ask, though thinking is getting harder, my world narrowing to the heat of his mouth.
"I was staring at everything. But yeah." He traces his tongue along the ridges, making me shiver, muscles clenching under the wet slide. "This especially. And this." His fingers find the trail of dark hair below my navel, following it down to where it disappears into my boxers, tugging lightly at the coarse strands. "I wanted to follow this with my tongue. I wanted to see where it led—to this thick cock I've been fantasizing about."
"Can I take these off?" he asks, his fingers hooking in the waistband, nails scraping lightly over my hips.
"Please. God, please. Get me naked—touch me."
He pulls my boxers down slowly, torturously slow, the fabric dragging over my sensitive skin, and my cock springs free, slapping against my stomach—hard and aching and leaking profusely now. Jay just stares at it for a long moment, his lips parted, his eyes wide and darkening further with raw lust.
"Jesus," he breathes.
"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious under that intense gaze.
