Maybe he had been. Maybe all those careful touches when he was patching me up had been him holding back. Maybe every time his hands had lingered on my skin had been him fighting this same want.
“Turn around,” Declan said against my ear, his voice rough with need.
I did without hesitation. I braced my hands against the tile, spread my legs wider, arched my back just enough to make my ass stick out. An invitation and a demand wrapped into one.
I felt him press against my back, his cock sliding between my ass cheeks, hot and hard and already leaking. His hands roamed over my body with purpose now. Down my sides, careful around the bruises. Over my hips. Gripping my ass and spreading me open.
The vulnerability of the position sent heat through my cock. I was completely exposed to him like this. Couldn't see what he was doing. Could only feel his hands on me, his cock pressed against me, his breath hot on the back of my neck.
“We don't have to—” he started.
“Yes we do.” I pushed back against him, ground my ass against his cock deliberately. “Unless you're already done with this.”
“Fuck no.” His hands gripped my hips tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. “But you're still sore from last night.”
“I'll live.” I looked back over my shoulder, met his eyes. I saw the hunger there, the want barely restrained. “You got lube in here or are we doing this raw?”
He reached past me, arm extending over my shoulder. He grabbed a bottle from the shelf I hadn't noticed before. “Had it for a while. Just never had reason to use it.”
I heard the click of the cap. I felt him get his fingers slick. Then one pressed inside me, slow and careful, and I groaned at the stretch.
I was still loose from last night. Still stretched enough that it didn't hurt, just felt good in that full, invasive way that made my cock leak against the shower wall.
“More.”
He added another finger without hesitation. He worked me open with patient thoroughness that made me want to tell him to hurry the fuck up. But the slow build was working too, making my cock fill out properly, making heat pool low in my stomach, making my thighs shake with the effort of staying still.
His fingers crooked inside me, searching. They found my prostate with devastating accuracy and pressed hard.
My cock jerked, fully hard now, leaking steadily against the shower wall.
He did it again. He rubbed that spot with deliberate pressure while his other hand came around to wrap around my cock, stroking me in time with the movements of his fingers inside me.
I was going to die. Was going to come just from his fingers if he kept this up, and from the satisfied sound he made behind me, he knew it.
“Declan, either fuck me or I'm going to come all over this fucking wall.”
He pulled his fingers out slowly, deliberately. I heard him slick up his cock with more lube. I felt the blunt head press against my hole, hot and thick and demanding.
Then he pushed in with agonizing slowness. Inch by inch, stretching me open, filling me up until he was fully seated inside me and I could barely breathe from how good it felt.
Better than last night. Different angle, different pressure, hitting places that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Move. Declan, please move.” My voice was wrecked, barely recognizable.
He did. He set a rhythm that was steadier than last night, less desperate and more deliberate. Each thrust hit deep enough to make my breath catch, to make my fingers scrabble for purchase on the slick tile.
The angle was different like this. Deeper somehow. His cock dragged over my prostate with every stroke, pleasure building hot and fast with each movement, making my legs shake and my cock drip steadily onto the shower floor.
His hand came around and wrapped around my cock with firm pressure. He stroked in time with his thrusts, matching the rhythm, turning everything into one continuous wave of sensation that was going to drown me.
I could feel him everywhere. Inside me, around me, his chest pressed to my back, his breath hot on my neck, his hand on my cock pulling pleasure from me with every stroke.
“You feel so fucking good.” Declan's breath was hot on my neck, his chest pressed to my back. “Can't believe this is real.”
“It's real.” I was getting close again. Too fast. My balls were drawing up tight, my whole body coiling with the need to come. “Fuck, it's real.”
His rhythm picked up. Harder now and faster, hips driving forward with purpose. His hand tightened on my cock, stroking with real intent now, his hips slamming into my ass with enough force to make me see stars.
