Without letting him go, I remove my finger from his ass and reach to the left, fumbling to get the drawer open. I can’t remember if I stashed lube in there when we were moving my stuff in—fuck, I hope so. The first thing I touch are Spencer’s glasses case, one of his spares. Pushing that aside, I find what I’m looking for.
His hole is slick already, puckered and waiting for me, but there’s no way I’d ever do more than this without extra lubricant. Not with Spencer, and definitely not for his first time.
He wriggles his ass enticingly. “Are you going to do something?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Can you maybe do more than think about it, please?”
“So impatient.”
“Kendrick Ryan Fischer, I will murder you.”
A smile flits over my face. Full name. That shouldn’t sound as sexy as it does, but I love hearing it come out of his mouth.
Squeezing the bottle to get plenty of lube over his entrance, I massage it into his muscles, teasing him with the tip of my thumb. Once his moans turn into frustrated muffles, I give him my whole finger again.
He melts, going both somehow rigid and pliant at the same time. “Oh—oh, that’s—”
I thrust a few times, making sure he’s easily taking me in before adding a second.
“Oh,fuck. Yes, that’s…” He pushes back, encouraging, and I kiss his back tenderly.
“Alright?”
“Yeah, it’s good. I mean, weird and a little uncomfortable but also so fucking good. Keep going, please.”
His wish, my command. The third finger is a tighter fit, but it’s not long before he’s relaxed around me, taking me in like a dream.
“I need to see you,” Spencer moans. “Want to see your face. Kiss you, hold you.”
A brilliant idea. The best, in fact.
When I turn him over, he drops to the bed, his chest heaving. “I think I’m dead.”
“I hope not yet; there’s more to go.” Of all my many interests in life, necrophilia isn’t one I can claim. He could at least wait till after we’re done.
He tugs me forward into a wet, open-mouthed kiss, my body stretching over his and pressing him into the mattress. He’s like a drug, directly injected into my veins. He tastes like home, like everything that I need to survive. Oxygen.Life. The way he’s clutching at me only makes it worse, the roar inside breaking free and wanting to ravage him.
He lifts a knee, hooking it over my hip. “Are you—I’m ready. I want to know what you feel like inside me.”
If my dick could get any harder, it would. Reaching down between his legs, I add more lube and then push two fingers back inside him, making sure he’s still nice and wet. He shudders, and his nails dig into me, breaking skin. That he’s enjoying it this much, that he wants me like this, that he’s still hard against my hip, almost has me coming, like this is my first time having sex.
Our eyes meet as the head of my cock slides over his hole, spreading the lube around. Now that we’re here, now that I’m so close, a spark of fear erupts in my chest.
He stills as if sensing it. It doesn’t surprise me; we’re too attuned to each other. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
I smooth my knuckles over his cheek, and his eyes flutter closed. “Nothing. I love you.” Too much. It consumes me until he’s the only thought that matters. The entire world can go to hell, so long as he’s in my arms.
Spencer grasps my hands and then, with a push, he rolls us over, straddling my hips. My cock slides between his soft cheeks, nestling there.
“I love you too. Stop overthinking this.” He reaches back and fists my cock, hand sliding up and down. “This? This is mine. No one else gets to have it.”
“Your claim is already ironclad, Spence. You don’t have to do this to—” He squeezes me too tight, and I cut off with a pained hiss.
“Careful with the merchandise.”
“Careful withmymerchandise,” he corrects me. “I’m doing this because I want to. If I have to keep repeating that for you to believe me, then I will. We can put it on the fridge; will that make you feel better?”
