“I was nervous. You were nothing like I’d expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I thought you’d be…” Another gasp as I added a little more pressure. “Arrogant. Snooty.” He vibrated with a low hum. “But you weren’t. You were…” Another soft whine. “Humble.”
“I could make you come like this.” I felt certain of it.
“No, I want you inside me.” His tone was just shy of begging as my fingers curled, and he jerked again.
“I noticed your eyes first,” I said.
“I thought it was my abs.”
“No, it was your eyes.” He looked at me then, and the connection between us was undeniable. “I want this.”
“Me too.”
He broke eye contact first and my focus went back to pleasuring him. His swollen cock lifted off his abdomen each time my fingers stroked his interior. I massaged his smooth sac with my other hand, clutching at his nuts possessively and manipulating them lightly in my palm. By the time I added a third finger, Arden was sweating and restless.
“Michael,” he said.
“Tell me how you want it.”
“In your arms.”
I sat back on my heels and suited up with a condom and more lube. I arranged Arden so that he was crouched on my lap, then crawled toward the headboard to grip it for leverage. Arden’s thighs cinched my waist as he squeezed my cock with one hand and perched delicately on top of it. He swiveled his hips, teasing me, then slowly lowered himself with athletic control.
“Ah, so thick,” he murmured. He gasped when my cockhead breached his sphincter and stilled for a moment, hovering precariously above me. He throbbed around me while I supported him in my arms. The wait was excruciating. I wanted him so very badly. Then, in one sinuous movement, he sank down around my shaft and covered me completely. Arden shuddered, now fully seated on my cock, and I did too. He was hot all over, and there was a febrile look in his eyes. He hugged my neck as I gently rocked, loosening him up and gaining his trust. Arden made small noises in my ear—whines and murmurs and soft, begging sounds.
“You feel so good,” I murmured into his neck, licking and kissing wherever I could reach his skin.
“I like doing this. With you,” he said in his halting way. “Feels… right.”
“So right.”
He shifted, sinking down even farther, his tight balls flush against my groin, stiff cock poking my stomach, leaving behind sticky trails on my skin. I moved my hips experimentally and Arden groaned, signaling that was the spot. With his noises as my cues, I fucked him slowly, allowing time for the burn to fade and his anticipation to build. Arden’s fingernails dug into my back and he whimpered, in pleasure or frustration.
“Too slow?” I asked.
“No. I’m just… not used to this.”
I moved like that, getting to know his rhythms, the weight of him, the slide of his skin against mine. I caressed his neck, back, and shoulders, learning where he liked to be touched and how. Franco had sometimes been impatient, had wanted me to hurry up and fuck him already, but Arden didn’t seem to mind the prolonged attention. If anything, he basked in my small affections, his normally stiff body now supple as rich, Italian leather.
I wanted to penetrate him deeper, but our positioning made it difficult to get the leverage I needed. So, I laid him on the bed, and with my hands on both his knees, opened him like a book. I propped him up with a pillow and rolled my hips with long, sensual strokes aimed at his very core. Arden took it beautifully, hands braced against the headboard, limbs spread wide in a posture of ultimate abandon. He whimpered when I withdrew and cried out when I surged forward. Our bodies shifted like tectonic plates, creating mountains and trenches with every collision. The sturdy wooden frame knocked against the wall in time with our cries of ecstasy.
“I want you to come first,” I said to him. I took his cock in one hand, already lubricated by our sweat and his slick. “Think you can?”
Arden nodded as I stimulated both his dick and his prostate. One way or another, he was going to climax for me.
“I’m close,” Arden said. “Fuck. Michael.”
Conscious thought left me as we moved in tandem. I wanted to overwhelm him, tunnel into his body and his psyche and uproot him completely. But Arden was fighting his release. His mouth was stretched into a tight grimace, his eyes shut tight.
“Let me have it,” I urged. I wanted his orgasm more than my own, wanted him to burst open like an overripe fruit, spill his juices everywhere, and know it was my doing. “Come on, Arden, you’re so close now. You just have to let go.”
His flushed face turned red from holding his breath, and I worried that he might lose consciousness. Arden seized like a corpse, clenching me so tightly that my rhythm stuttered. He shuddered as his cock started pumping out hot, sticky fluid, coating my fist. His channel pulsed and spasmed, so that I had to push through the friction to stay inside him. I ground into him a few more times, until I felt myself tipping over the edge. The tension that had been gathering like an electric storm broke free, and ripples of bliss stretched, web-like, to my nerve endings. Pleasure lanced through me, a whetted blade, and I rode him until the last shivery pulse faded, and my body was utterly spent.
Arden’s knees fell apart, and his muscle unclenched at last. His mouth curved into a lazy grin as he stared at me in a sexed-up stupor. This was far better than any fantasy I’d been able to conjure. I leaned closer and kissed his forehead, wanting to prolong our coupling for a little while longer.
