I pressed my cock against his lips from above and he opened and took me in, and the angle from here was its own revelation. Deeper. Straighter. The column of his throat visibly working around me when I pressed forward, and the sounds he was making were wet and full and continuous and going through me like low current.
I put my hand around his throat.
Not hard. Firm. Feeling the movement of him around me through my palm, the vibration of the sounds he was producing, the slight pressure change when I tightened my grip the smallest amount, and the full-body shudder that ran through him when I did.
I started moving.
The rhythm I found was slow at first, then less slow, my hips rolling forward in controlled thrusts while my hand stayed at his throat and my eyes stayed on him below me. His hands had goneto my thighs, gripping hard, not pushing back but holding on, anchoring himself to me as I moved.
My free hand found his chest.
I ran my palm down the center of it, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing changing under my hand, and found his nipple with my thumb and pressed.
I rolled his nipple between my fingers, unhurried, feeling him clench and shudder with every variation of pressure, and kept the rhythm of my hips consistent while his body processed both signals at once and clearly struggled to know which one to chase.
I tightened my hand at his throat by a single degree and felt him moan around me.
His hands on my thighs were starting to shake.
I pulled back.
He gasped when I withdrew, a raw and involuntary sound, his head still hanging over the edge of the mattress and his chest heaving in the open air. I gave him two seconds to breathe and then I reached down and got my hands on him and moved him.
I rolled him onto his stomach and he let it happen, arms falling loose above his head, cheek pressed into the duvet, the long line of his spine catching the light through the window.
The lace underwear sat low on his hips, the thin fabric disappearing into the cleft of his ass, and I sat back on my heels and looked at him laid out below me and felt something in my chest go very quiet and very decided.
I brought my palm down.
The sound of it filled the room and he made a sharp, punched-out noise into the duvet and his hips pressed down into the mattress instinctively. A flush bloomed across his skin where my hand had landed, vivid and immediate, and I spread my palm flat over it and felt the heat radiating upward.
“Rook—” Muffled. Breathless.
I brought my hand down again, other cheek, and the sound he made this time was lower and longer and had nothing bitten-off about it. His hands found the duvet and gripped.
I ran both palms across him slowly, feeling the warmth my hands had put there, squeezing once before I got my fingers into the thin string of the thong and moved it aside. The lace pulled taut, holding to one side, and what was revealed was warm and flushed and entirely his.
I spanked him again.
He cried out into the duvet, open and unguarded, hips bucking back toward me in the aftermath rather than away, his body making its preferences extremely clear.
“You like that,” I said, and it was not a question.
“Yes.” The word came out wrecked and immediate. “Fuck. Yes.”
I let my palm rest against him, warm and full, and felt his pulse in it.
Then I looked up at the nightstand. The lube was still there.
I reached for it, got my fingers slicked, and held them there for a moment, letting him feel nothing but the warmth of my other hand on his skin and the anticipation of what was coming.
He turned his face sideways on the duvet, one eye finding me, and the look in it was naked and waiting and entirely certain.
I gathered saliva on my tongue and let it fall against him directly, felt him shiver at the warmth of it, and then I pressed two slicked fingers against him and stroked.
I pressed firmer and felt him open slightly under the pressure, and I kept the motion going, slow and thorough, the way you'd touch something you wanted to take care of. My other hand ran up the inside of his thigh, palm flat, fingers spread, and the combination of both sensations made his whole body roll in a slow, helpless wave.
I pressed one finger in.
