I can barely pronounce the H in that fucking word, or any word. Curse of the French accent, but he still seems turned on by it because he lets out a gasping breath and does exactly as I demanded, even arching his back a little so he’s presenting his perfect ass to me.
My cock is vibrating with desire now. I finger him again, with lube, but we're both impatient, and in seconds I'm pushing the head of my cock past his first ring of muscle. Everything changes. The mood gets heavier, the air in the room seems hotter, the noises Axel starts making are deeper, and the feelings I'm ignoring in my heart get stronger.
Sex is intimacy, always, even when it’s just fun and games. I’ve always known that. There’s a level of trust and respect that I’ve always had for all my partners, even the ones whose last names I can’t remember or never knew. But this… this with Axel is more than that. It’s more than I’ve ever known.
I admit that to myself as my cock sinks deeper and deeper until my pubic bone pushes into the rounds of his perfect ass. I stay that way, unmoving, giving him time to adjust to my size and my heart time to absorb the size of these feelings. Oh my God, I might be falling in love.
I bite my bottom lip to keep from saying it out loud. Or anything. Now is not the time for words. Axel grunts and clenches and it's his green flag. His way of telling me to go. So I do. Moving in and out of him with a rhythm that comes easily. I slide a palm up the center of his back, feeling every vertebra as I glide to his neck. He reaches up and circles my wrist with his long fingers, pulling me forward as I thrust. Pressing his lips to my palm and then biting down on it as the movement changes my angle inside him. I must have found his sweet spot. He shudders.
“Faster, Gabe. Please. Faster,” he pants.
I grab his hip with my free hand and flick my hips harder and faster. My balls are so tight and straining for release but he has to go first. Anything less would be a failure. He groans so deep I swear the walls shake. And when he lets go of my hand I snake it under us to wrap it around his dick. I keep my rhythm hard and fast and match it with my hand’s motion around his cock. I’m rewarded with his warm, sticky release coating my fingers, and the duvet, seconds later. I’m not coherent enough to really enjoy it though because my own orgasm rips through me almost immediately.
I wail and collapse onto his back, biting his shoulder to keep the sound muffled. He drops forward, flat on the mattress, taking my body with him. I roll to the side and we lie there, me face up and Axel face down, both gasping for breath.
Eventually, we're both sucking air into our lungs in even, steady breaths. I am exhausted and I wonder if he's already passed out when he slides his hand across the small space between us and covers my own with it. His fingers curl between mine and I rub the side of his pinky with my thumb.
I pull the condom off with my free hand and drop it to the ground. The last thing I remember is a soft tink sound as our cheap wedding bands knock together on our intertwined hands.
21AXEL
My head is absolutely pounding.
Oh no. Wait. That’s the hotel room door.
I groan. It echoes.
Oh no. Wait. That’s someone groaning beside me.
Gabriel.
The pounding gets louder. I open my eyes and I swear to god ithurts. “Can you sprain your eyelids drinking?”
I hear a soft, but rough chuckle beside me and then a hand on the small of my bare back. Right. I’m naked. With a dull, but satisfying ache between my butt cheeks.
The entire night comes flooding back to me. Every magical, maniacal, extremely stupid moment. Now my eyes are wide, unblinking, focused on Gabriel. He’s got one forearm thrown across his forehead. His eyes are still shut. He’s naked and sporting wood. Beautiful wood. I give my head an actual shake as I start to sit up and instantly regret both decisions.
I groan again.
The pounding on the door gets harder. More urgent. Gabriel’s eyes flutter open. “Who the fuck is trying to break the sound barrier and the door?”
“I have no idea,” I reply, my voice raspy, my heart thumping at the memories. Does he remember everything?
His eyes land on mine. He smiles. “Morning, husband.”
Oh my God. He remembers.
“Gabriel!”
It’s his father.
Oh fuck. It’s his father!
I leap out of bed, my feet tangle in my pants on the floor, and I tip over, my shoulder clipping the night table. I curse and bite back a yelp. Gabriel is up, and in front of me, blurry-eyed. “Are you alright?”
“Answer the door before he breaks it down,” I whisper, sitting up and rubbing my shoulder. “I’ll hide in the shower.”
“It’s all glass.”
