Then I heard the cap of the lube bottle, and my whole body tensed in anticipation.
The first finger pressed inside me slowly, and I felt the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness. It had been a while since I'd done this. Long enough that even one finger felt like a lot.
“Okay?” His voice was strained, controlled. Fighting for composure.
“Yeah. Keep going.”
He worked me open carefully, methodically, adding a second finger and then a third. Each one burned more than the last, stretched me wider, made me feel fuller. By the time he was three fingers deep, I was shaking, grinding back against his hand, desperate for more.
He curled his fingers, searching, and when he found my prostate I nearly screamed.
“There. Fuck, right there?—”
He hit it again, deliberately, and pleasure shot through me so intense it was almost painful. My cock was rock hard, dripping steadily onto the sheets beneath me.
“I'm ready. Fuck, I'm ready, please?—”
“Not yet.” He curled his fingers again, rubbing that spot until I was shaking. “Not until I know you can take it.”
“I can take it. I can take you. Please, Grant, I need your cock?—”
He groaned, and I felt his fingers withdraw. The loss made me whimper.
“On your back,” he said. “I want to see your face.”
I rolled over, and he settled between my legs. I watched him slick himself up, watched his hand work over his cock, and fuck, he was big. Thick and long and flushed dark with arousal.
A flicker of nervousness went through me. It had been a while. And he was definitely bigger than anyone I'd been with before.
He must have seen something in my face because he leaned down and kissed me. Gentle this time. Almost sweet.
“We'll go slow,” he murmured against my lips. “If it's too much, tell me. We can stop anytime.”
“I don't want to stop.”
“Then we go slow.” He lined himself up, and I felt the blunt head of his cock press against my hole. “Breathe.”
I did, forcing myself to relax, and he pushed forward slowly.
The stretch was intense. More than his fingers, more than anything I'd felt before. He was thick and the burn was right on the edge of too much, walking that line between pleasure and pain that made my head spin.
“Fuck,” I gasped. “You're big.”
“You okay? Need me to stop?”
“No. Don't stop. Don't you dare fucking stop.”
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside me. We both went still, breathing hard, and I felt impossibly full. Stretched wider than I'd ever been. Connected to him in the most intimate way possible.
“Christ,” he groaned. “You feel—fuck, you feel perfect.”
“Move. Please move.”
He pulled back slowly, and I felt every inch of the drag. Then he pushed back in, and we both moaned. The second thrust was smoother. The third was deeper.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Harder.”
