With a low, feral growl, I pressed forward and let myself in, slow at first, the head breaching him, then a steady, brutal thrust until I was buried to the hilt. He cried out, high and helpless, the sound a raw, ragged surrender that sent lightning up my spine. God, he was tight—scalding, gripping, every inch of him resisting and then yielding to me. I stilled, letting him adjust, savouring the way he clenched around me, then drew back, almost out, before driving in again—harder, deeper.
He sobbed, hands fisting in the sheets, forehead pressed to the mattress, the strain in his neck and back making him look utterly, obscenely wrecked. “Fuck—Dom, you’re—so big—can’t?—”
“Yes you can,” I snarled, voice gone ragged as I set a merciless rhythm, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls. “You can take it. You’re mine.”
I spat into my palm, then reached down and slicked more spit over my cock as I fucked in and out of him—Cal was so tight I could feel every pulse, every flutter, every shiver of overwhelmed nerves. Sometimes I spat directly on him, letting it run down over the place where we were joined, my thumb rubbing it in before I plunged back inside. He sobbed and gasped and pushed back for more, needing it as much as I did.
His hair, already wild from sweat and friction, fell over his eyes, and I couldn’t resist. I grabbed a fistful, wrapping the dark strands around my hand, using it to drag him upright until his back was flush to my chest. His throat arched, exposing his pulse, and I bent to bite it, mark it, claim it. He moaned—a low, desperate thing—his hands scrabbling for purchase on my thighs.
I fucked him harder, the wet slap of my hips brutal and deep, the sound of it obscene. Every time I felt him start to get close, I slowed, grinding deep, denying him, then resumed the pace.
I pulled his head back, forcing him to look at me, our faces inches apart. His eyes were glazed, lashes spiked with tears, lips parted and pink. I bent and kissed him, devouring, filthy, swallowing his moans, letting him taste spit and sweat and the remnants of all the filthy things we’d done tonight.
He kissed back like a drowning man—hungry, needy, desperate to hold on to something real. Our teeth clicked, tongues tangled, breath mingled. I fucked into him as I kissed him, grinding deeper with every thrust.
“You’re perfect,” I whispered into his mouth. “So fucking perfect. Taking all of me. Taking everything.”
He whimpered, voice hoarse, “Harder, Dom. Don’t stop—need it, need you?—”
I gave him what he wanted, driving in harder, deeper, my free hand gripping his jaw, forcing his mouth open so I could spit inside again, then kissing him with all the ferocity I had left. His cries were muffled by my lips, his body shuddering with every thrust, every grind.
I could feel him getting close, his muscles trembling, body tightening around me with every savage thrust. His cock was a mess, leaking everywhere, untouched but throbbing for release.
I kept my hand in his hair, kept my mouth on his, owning every gasp, every curse, every plea. “You want to come?” Idemanded between kisses, voice a growl, my hips never slowing. “You want to come on my cock, Cal?”
He nodded, breathless, frantic, tears streaming down his face as he moaned, “Yes, Dom, yes—please, I can’t—need to—please?—”
I held his gaze, my hand locked in his hair, the other snaking around his body to wrap around his cock—slick, swollen, so sensitive he jerked at the first touch. “Then come for me,” I growled, permission a low thunder in my chest, “Now. Let go. I want to feel you break for me.”
And he did.
He shattered—body bowing back into me, jaw dropping on a choked cry as I stroked him in time with my thrusts. His orgasm hit hard, blinding, come spilling hot and desperate over my hand, his abs, the sheets beneath us. His whole body seized, muscles clamping down around my cock, and the sensation undid me completely.
I fucked him through it, never slowing, never gentling, riding the wave of his climax as I chased my own. His hole gripped me, milking me for everything I was worth, his sobs and pleas turning into wordless, keening sounds. I barely managed another few thrusts before I lost control, hips snapping deep, buried to the hilt as I came—hot, thick, filling him until it leaked out around my cock and onto my thighs.
I bit down on his shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to mark him—claim him—own him in every way I’d wanted. We were a mess of sweat and spit and tears, of bodies shaking and muscles trembling.
I stayed buried in him, holding him tight, panting against his skin. His body trembled in my arms, wrecked and safe, completely undone but not broken. My hands soothed over his chest, his stomach, mapping the slick lines of come and sweat,murmuring soft nonsense against his ear as we rode out the aftershocks together.
“Breathe, Cal,” I whispered, kissing the side of his throat. “You’re alright. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He nodded, shuddering, trying to pull air into lungs that felt too small for his body. I loosened my grip on his hair, smoothing it back, then eased him forward, letting his weight rest against my chest as I slowly—carefully—slipped out. He gasped at the loss, but I was there, catching him, guiding him down to the mattress, gathering him up in my arms.
For a while, we didn’t move. I held him, curled around his back, my hand splayed protectively over his heart, his own hand reaching back to grip my thigh. His breathing slowed, the wild rhythm calming with every pass of my thumb across his skin.
I pressed gentle kisses to his shoulder, his nape, the damp curls at his temple, letting the heat of the moment bleed out into something softer, more intimate. “You were perfect,” I murmured, voice thick with awe and pride. “So fucking strong. So good for me.”
He laughed—a broken, exhausted sound, full of relief and wonder. “You’re insatiable,” he muttered, turning his head to nuzzle my jaw. “Think you finally got it all out of your system?”
“Not even close,” I teased, kissing his mouth—soft this time, nothing but gratitude and adoration. “But I’ll let you recover before I ruin you again.”
He snorted, rolling onto his side and dragging a pillow under his head, eyes already fighting sleep. But I didn’t let him drift off just yet. Instead, I slid from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a tube of cream and a warm, damp cloth. He tensed for a heartbeat as I settled between his legs, but I only gave him a look—a silent promise:I’ll take care of you.
“Easy,” I murmured, voice lower now, gentler. “Let me.”
I cleaned him up, every motion slow and careful, then squeezed a little of the cream onto my fingers and worked it over the skin I’d marked—his thighs, the inside of his cheeks, his hole, red and swollen from everything I’d demanded of him. He hissed at first, but soon relaxed into my touch, letting me tend to him, letting me see every inch of him vulnerable and unguarded. I pressed a kiss to his hip, then rolled up beside him, pulling the covers over both of us.
He lay there for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling, jaw working like he was grinding his teeth around words he didn’t want to speak. Finally, quietly: “What are we doing, Dom?”
