“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to me. “Okay. Now the lube.”
He’s thorough with the preparation, working me open with slicked fingers while I grip the sheets and try not to come from that alone. One finger becomes two, two becomes three, and by the time he deems me ready, I’m a shaking, desperate mess.
“Now,” I beg, spreading my legs wider. “Ryan, please, now.”
He positions himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, everything else falls away. The nerves, the uncertainty, the weight of this being our first time—all of it dissolves into something simpler.
“I love you,” Ryan says, and pushes inside.
The stretch is intense, bordering on painful, but I breathe through it like I’ve learned to do. Ryan goes slowly, his face a mask of concentration as he fights to maintain control. I can feel him trembling, feel the effort it takes for him not to slam forward and take what he wants.
“You’re so tight,” he gasps, his voice cracking on the last word. “Oliver, you’re so?—”
“Keep going.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “I can take it. I want to take it.”
He bottoms out with a groan that seems to come from somewhere deep in his chest. For a moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe together, adjusting to the sensation, to the reality of being connected in this most intimate of ways.
Then Ryan shifts his hips, and everything changes.
The angle is perfect. Whether by luck or by all that research he did, Ryan manages to hit my prostate on his very first thrust. The pleasure that explodes through me is so intense that I cry out, my back arching off the bed. “There,” I squeal, reaching for my own cock. “Right there—don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
Ryan doesn’t. He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, until he finds a rhythm that has me seeing Pluto. Each movement drives him against that bundle of nerves inside me, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through my entire body.
My hand works my curved cock in time with his thrusts, precome slicking my grip, making obscene wet sounds that mix with the slap of skin against skin. I’m babbling now, words spilling from my lips without filter—yesandthereandfuckandRyanandpleaseandmoreandharderanddon’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.
“Oliver.” Ryan’s voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. “You feel—I can’t believe—I?—”
He adjusts his angle slightly, and the next thrust hits even deeper, even more precisely. The scream that tears from my throat is loud enough to wake the entire dormitory. I don’t care. I can’t care. I’m too busy falling apart.
“I’m close,” I warn him, my hand moving faster on my cock. “Oh dear God, I’m so close.”
“Me too.” He’s pounding into me now, all pretense of gentleness abandoned. His hips snap forward with a force that shoves me up the bed, and I brace one hand against the wall to keep from crashing my head right through it. “I can’t—it’s too much—you’re too?—”
The orgasm builds, tightening like a coil about to spring. I pump my cock frantically, chasing the release that hovers just out of reach, and then Ryan slams into my prostate one final time, and I shatter.
I come so hard my vision whites out. My cock pulses in my grip, ropes of cum painting my chest, my stomach, even my chin. My toes curl in the air where my legs are still wrapped around Ryan’s waist, and the sound that tears from my throat isn’t human. It’s primal, animal, a scream of pleasure that could start a war.
Through the haze of my own release, I hear Ryan cry out. “Oh God—Oliver—you’re clenching around me—I’m going to ejaculate.”
His hips stutter, losing their rhythm, and then he’s coming too, his second orgasm of the night ripping through him with enough force to make his whole body shake. He collapses forward onto me, his face pressed against my neck, and I feel him pulse inside me as the aftershocks roll through us both.
We lie there, tangled together, breathing hard. My cum is cooling on my chest, sticky and uncomfortable, but I can’t bring myself to care. Ryan is still inside me, softening now, and his weight on top of me feels pleasant.
“Holy shit,” Ryan whispers eventually.
“Yeah.” My voice is hoarse from screaming. “Holy shit.”
“Did I—was that?—”
“That was incredible.” I manage to lift one hand, threading my fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Youwere incredible.”
Ryan lifts his head, and even in the dim light, I can see the wonder on his face. “I made you scream.”
“You made me do a lot of things.”
“I think I may have awakened something in myself.” He pauses, considering. “Something that very much enjoys making you scream.”
“Oh no,” I say, but I’m smiling.
