There are rubbers in his bedside drawer. I take one. Take the lube too while he scrambles up on his knees.
I know he’s ready.
I do.
I still have to pause, the wide head of my dick a millimetre from heaven until Dair takes over. He pushes back, and I’m inside him.
Just.
The head of my dick spreads him, and I score myself another of those deep groans that tells me not to pull back. To stay right where I am and let him take what he needs from me. I’m never gonna get over how hard he works to draw me in, and I’ve never felt heat like it. It doesn’t only wrap my dick. It soars through my chest, searing it from the inside. My breathing is as shaky as his with each inch he takes, and Dair’s next groan is different, going on for what feels like forever.
I’m flush against him. Held tight and wanted, exactly as I am.
Then we’re fucking hard and hot and heavy, and I hope to everything holy that I don’t grip his hips too tightly.
I can’t help this bone-deep need to stay buried inside him. Dair finds his voice, saying, “Yes,” to this pounding, and he doesn’t stop there. He goes ahead and tells me everything else he’s feeling.
It’s everything I know about him already.
“Good,” he grinds out, and he has been so, so good for me since I first met him. “Deep,” Dair groans, and I did have to dig fucking deep to get honest but look what it got me. He shouts, “Don’t stop,” and I wouldn’t, if I could think of how to swing by a Hebridean island regularly enough to find out if this magic could last for longer.
I can’t do anything about the distance between here and the Isle of Harris. Can’t pretend I don’t know how much going home means to him either, his one constant wish since I met him. I have to settle for making this as good as I can.
Sheets rumple, crushed in his grasp, his knuckles bone white, and I’d hold him as tightly, if?—
His tight hold suddenly releases, and what he sobs out might wake his neighbours. I hear my own name, then he’s gone, and my dick is suddenly so much cooler.
Not for long, thank fuck.
Dair turns. He pulls at me, and I don’t fight him. I go exactly where he wants me while I still can, which is sitting with my back against the headboard, and with him pouring more slick onto my dick.
He’s on my lap then. On my cock. Sinking with both arms locked around my neck, and we’re kissing.
His tongue finds mine, which should be filthy, but isn’t. His cursing is when he bottoms out, but I get it—I’m thick at the root. He wants that stretch. Works for it. Kisses me again and whimpers, which could sound like weakness. It’s a sign of strength in my opinion; another way he rewrites my internal vocab to rephrase everything I thought I knew.
He rides me, and it’s my turn to white-knuckle the sheets. They twist between my fingers at his slow rise and even slower descent. It’s so good. Even better when he speeds up, and then there’s no more kissing.
I thrust up each time he slides down, and it’s messy. Uncoordinated. Desperate until he stills me. He does that by pushing back my hair to kiss me where I once broke, which is a first for me.
Dair looks at me like this is a first for him too, and just like that, there’s nothing uncoordinated about us.
We’re in sync, like we’ve been so often since meeting.
Aligned.
He rides me again, gaze locked with mine, and I didn’t know sex could feel so connected that he can come without needing a helping hand on his dick. He shoots to prove it, pulsing around me, and I’m right there with him, shaken apart by more than my own climax.
Once we’re flat on our backs, barely fitting side-by-side on his narrow mattress, his gaze is liquid gold. Dair melts me too with a question I’d usually say no to.
“Stay with me?”
I do, and once the light is out, me spooning close behind him is another first.
And a last.
I don’t want to think about what is coming a few hours from now.
Dair makes me face our ending.
