And yet not enough.
When his hand slid up my back, deliberate and unhurried, I felt my heart explode against my ribs.He traced the line of my spine like he meant to memorize it, then slipped lower, cupping my ass boldly, firmly, like he had already claimed me.His fingers dug in, kneading the flesh with a possessive hunger that made my cock twitch.My breath caught hard in my chest, a ragged sound escaping me before I could stop it.
In that instant, everything—my career, my caution, the endless years of careful silence—vanished.All that remained was him.
Arthur’s laugh, a low rumble against my mouth.His scent, warm and woody, threaded with wine and the sharp edge of arousal.The press of his hand at my back pulled me closer, closer still, until there was no space left to guard, no walls left to hide behind.
He stood before me, eyes heavy-lidded, lips curved with intent."Bryce," he murmured, his voice low, steady, laced with gravel."Do you know how much I want you?How I've dreamed of burying myself inside you?"
My breath hitched.Words abandoned me, scattered like frightened birds.My cock hardened fully, straining against the fabric, aching for him.
He leaned closer, his mouth grazing my ear, his breath hot against my skin."I want to taste you.To stretch you open.To fuck you until you scream my name and forget every man who's ever touched you."
A sound broke from me, unformed and helpless, more plea than response.My body answered where my voice could not, hips grinding forward instinctively.
His smile deepened against my throat.Then he kissed me there, lips lingering, teeth grazing just enough to sting.His fingers moved to the buttons of my shirt, slow, deliberate.Each one slipped free with a small sigh, and as the fabric loosened, he parted it and pressed his mouth to the skin revealed.
A kiss against my collarbone.Another, lower, where the dusting of hair began across my chest.Heat bloomed wherever he touched, spreading in dizzy waves, straight to my groin.
The shirt slid from my shoulders, whispering as it fell to the floor.Arthur's lips followed, mapping me inch by inch as if he meant never to forget.My breath came faster, shallow and unsteady, my hands fisting in his hair.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice reverent now, rough with need.He pushed the undershirt up with both hands, dragging the cotton slowly over my torso, and when his lips pressed against my bare stomach, sucking a mark into the skin, I shuddered so violently I thought my knees might give way.
Piece by piece, he stripped me of every stitch I wore.My trousers followed, the clink of my belt buckle the only warning before the fabric slid down my legs and pooled at my feet.Socks, then shoes.The cool air of the room touched me where cloth had always shielded, but the heat of his mouth was never far behind—kissing the inside of my thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin there until I was leaking pre-cum onto my briefs.
With each garment that hit the floor, he kissed the skin revealed, slow and deliberate, his lips reverent in their worship.He kissed the hollow of my throat, the slope of my shoulder, the taut plane of my stomach, the crease where thigh met hip.Every kiss broke another piece of my composure.I moaned helplessly, unable to find words.Years of restraint fell in torn fragments at my feet.
When the last of it was gone—my briefs yanked down, my cock springing free, thick and throbbing—he eased me down onto the wide bed.The linens were cool beneath me, the mattress yielding, and above me he lingered for a moment, his figure backlit by the moon spilling through the window.The silver glow caught his hair, his skin, and he was radiant—half god, half predator—beautiful beyond reason, his own erection tenting his trousers obscenely.
Slowly, he began undressing himself.The sound of fabric sliding over skin seemed louder than the pounding of my pulse.Each time a garment fell away, my breath caught.His jacket slipped from his shoulders, graceful even in its descent.His shirt followed, buttons undone with an unhurried patience that nearly unraveled me.The sculpted lines of his chest and stomach gleamed in the moonlight, nipples hard, a trail of dark hair leading down to where his cock strained.
His trousers joined the growing heap on the floor, a careless tumble of fabric, and I let out a sound I didn't recognize—something between awe and desperation.Briefs next, peeled away with ease, revealing his cock: long, thick, veined, curving slightly upward, the head already slick.Nothing had prepared me for the sight of Arthur undressing with the moonlight shining on him through the windows.Baring himself not as royalty or patron or public figure, but simply as a man who wanted to fuck me.
He climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress on either side of my hips.Then he lowered himself until his weight pressed into me, warm and solid, his cock sliding hot against mine.His mouth found mine, no longer tender but rough, demanding, claiming—tongues battling, teeth nipping.I surrendered to the onslaught, my hands finding purchase across the broad expanse of his back, nails digging in.The scent of him, the feel of his skin against mine, it was intoxicating, a potent elixir that clouded my judgment and set my senses alight.I arched into him, a silent plea for more, for everything he could give—please, God, fuck me.
Arthur kissed his way down my stomach, his lips trailing fire, stubble scraping deliciously, until his mouth hovered over my cock."Please, Arthur," I begged, barely recognizing my voice, hips lifting shamelessly."I need you so badly.Inside me."
"Not yet," he growled, eyes dark with promise.He settled between my thighs, spreading them wide, and his mouth descended—hot, wet, engulfing me to the root in one swift motion.I gasped, my hips bucking as his tongue swirled around the head, sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks.He held me down with firm hands on my hips, fingers bruising in the best way, and worked me with filthy expertise: deep throating until his nose brushed my pubes, then pulling back to lap at my balls, teasing the rim of my hole with a probing tongue.
Pleasure ricocheted through me like lightning, building fast after years of neglect.But he stopped just short, leaving me panting, hole clenching emptily."Turn over," he commanded, voice wrecked."On your knees for me."
I obeyed, trembling, ass up, face buried in the pillows.The vulnerability hit me like a drug—exposed, desperate.I heard him rummage in the nightstand: lube, then the crinkle of a condom packet.Cool lube drizzled over my hole, then his thick fingers—first one, breaching me slowly, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned."So good for me, Bryce.Taking my finger like you were made for it."A second joined, scissoring, stretching, his free hand stroking my dripping cock in rhythm.I keened, pushing back, the burn morphing into bliss I'd never known before.
"Arthur—please," I sobbed, my cock leaking onto the sheets."I need your cock.Make me yours."
He withdrew his fingers, rolled on the condom with a slick sound, and positioned himself.The blunt head pressed against me, insistent."Breathe," he murmured, kissing my spine.Then he thrust—slow at first, breaching the ring of muscle until he bottomed out, balls-deep, filling me impossibly full.I cried out, the stretch bordering pain but tipping into ecstasy, waves of sensation crashing through nerves dormant for years.
He stilled, letting me adjust, one hand stroking my back, the other fisting my hair gently."You feelincredible,Bryce.So hot, clenching around me."Then he moved—pulling back almost out, slamming home with a wet slap.Harder, faster, the bed creaked under us.Each thrust nailed me, and sparks exploded beneath my closed eyes, pleasure coiling tighter than I'd ever felt.His hips snapped with precision—deep, grinding rolls that made me see white—while dirty praise poured from him: "That's it, Bryce, take my cock.You've waited so long for this—fuck, you're mine now, Ambassador.”
I was undone, babbling nonsense—"Harder, Arthur, God, yes—never like this"—body shaking, tears pricking my eyes from the intensity.No one had ever made me feelthis: owned, adored, split open and remade.The coil snapped; I came untouched, spurting ropes across the sheets with a shattered moan, hole spasming around him.
Arthur growled my name, thrusts erratic, chasing his own peak."Bryce—fuck—" He buried deep inside me one last time, pulsing inside me, his release felt in every shuddering grind of his hips.
He collapsed over me, kissing my sweat-slick shoulder.We stayed like that, breaths syncing, until he pulled out gently, disposing of the condom before gathering me close.
Arthur curled around me from behind.His breathing slowed, chest heaving as though he’d run a marathon.My heart was still pounding, unruly, as I pressed a lingering kiss to the palm of his hand.
