When he pressed in, the burn was sharp, then deep. He worked his way past the resistance, moving slow, never forcing it. The intrusion was strange, uncomfortable, but the more he stroked inside me, the more the pain faded into something else.
He curled his finger, just a bit, and I flinched. “Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Right there.”
He added more lube, then a second finger. The stretch was real, but he took his time, working me open in tiny increments, coaxing me to relax with whispered words and the occasional pinch to my hip or thigh. He kept his eyes on my face, reading every reaction, adjusting his movements to match.
By the time he worked the third finger in, I was panting. Sweat pooled at the small of my back. My legs shook, and I couldn’t stop grinding down, wanting more. When he finally crooked all three fingers and brushed my prostate, I saw lightning behind my eyelids. My cock jerked, leaking hard onto my belly.
He fucked me with his fingers, slow at first, then faster, then with an urgency that made me think he was barely holding back. I couldn’t keep quiet. Every time he curled his fingers just right, I groaned, then tried to swallow it down, then failed again.
He looked smug as hell. “Never took you for a moaner, Floyd.”
I glared at him, but it was ruined by the next bolt of pleasure. “You keep running your mouth, I’m gonna—”
He withdrew his fingers, wiped them on the sheet, then leaned in close, lips brushing my ear. “You’re gonna what?”
I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t need one. He bit my earlobe, then kissed me, slow and deep, and I tasted myself on his tongue.
He pulled back, eyes sharp and dark. “You want it?” he asked, and the world collapsed into that one question.
I nodded. Desperate. “Yes. Please.”
He laughed, soft and almost kind. “Good boy.”
He rolled a condom on with one hand, never breaking eye contact. He stroked himself once, then lined up at my entrance. The head of his cock pressed against me, bigger than his fingers, hotter. He didn’t push in yet—just held, waited, letting the anticipation build.
I wanted to say something, but all that came out was a guttural “fuck.”
He grinned, wolfish. “That’s the idea.”
And then he pushed.
The stretch was intense, a white-hot burn that made me see stars. He went slow, excruciatingly slow, working his way in an inch at a time, stopping to let me adjust, then pushing again. By the time he bottomed out, I was gripping his shoulders so hard I thought I might leave nail marks.
He held still, letting me breathe, then kissed my forehead. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, voice barely a whisper. “Just—go.”
He started moving, small thrusts at first, then longer, deeper, faster. Every stroke sent electricity up my spine, ignited every nerve in my body. He fucked me like he meant to break me open and pour himself inside.
He braced one hand on my hip, the other flat on my chest, pinning me in place. His tattoos rippled with every movement, and I found myself mesmerized by the pattern, the animal motion of it.
He kept his eyes on mine the whole time, reading me, pushing me to the limit and then holding me right there.
When he curled his hips just right and drove against my prostate, I lost it. My cock pulsed, untouched, and I came in thick spurts across my belly, shuddering so hard I nearly bit through my tongue. He followed, seconds later, grinding deepand groaning into my neck, his whole body tensing as he filled the condom.
We stayed like that, locked together, until the world came back into focus. My heart hammered in my chest. My body hummed with the aftershocks.
He pulled out slow, stripped off the condom, and tied it off, tossing it into the trash can by the bed. He lay next to me, arm thrown across my chest, heavy and warm.
Neither of us spoke. There was nothing left to say.
I stared at the ceiling, at the patterns of shadow and light, and wondered how the fuck I was supposed to go back to my old life after this.
Ransom reached for my hand, laced our fingers together, and squeezed.
I squeezed back.
I could have lived in the quiet of that moment forever, fingers entwined, my body wrecked and my heart beating out a code I was terrified to translate. But the peace didn’t last.
