"Lean forward," he murmured, his hands guiding me down until my chest was pressed against his. "Let me open you up nice and slow."
I heard the soft click of the bottle opening, and then his slick fingers were between my cheeks, circling my entrance with gentle pressure. I buried my face against his neck, breathing in that cedar and honey scent, trying to relax as he worked one finger inside me.
"That's it," he murmured, his free hand stroking my back. "Just breathe."
It had been so long since anyone had touched me there that even one finger felt like a lot. But Kieran was patient, working me open with careful movements, adding more lube when he needed it. And never rushing. When he slipped a second finger inside, I couldn't help the soft moan that escaped me.
"Good?" he asked, curling his fingers in a way that made my heart race and sent adrenaline coursing through my body.
"God, yes."
He found my prostate then, stroking across it with deliberate pressure, and I cried out, my whole body jerking in his arms. I'd forgotten how good that could feel, how it could make your entire nervous system light up like a circuit board.
By the time he was working three fingers inside me, I was a shaking, desperate mess, grinding down against his hand and making sounds I didn't recognize as coming from my own throat.
"Please," I gasped. "Kieran, please, I need?—"
"I know what you need." He withdrew his fingers, leaving me feeling empty and aching. "Sit up for me."
I pushed myself up and stared down at him. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing as ragged as mine. He took his cock in his hand, slicking it thoroughly with lube, then positioned the head against my hole.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded. With slow, deliberate pressure, he pressed the head of his cock forward, spreading me open. The stretch was intense, almost overwhelming, but not painful. Those ridges I'd seen created the most incredible sensation as they slipped past my rim, each one sending shocks of pleasure through my system. By the time I'd taken him completely, I was shaking and gasping, my hands clutched desperately at his shoulders.
"Breathe," Kieran said softly, his hands steady on my hips. "Just breathe and let your body adjust."
I sat there for a long moment, feeling impossibly full, feeling him pulse inside me. The flared head of his cock was pressed right against my prostate, and every tiny movement sent waves of sensation through me.
"You feel incredible," he murmured, his voice strained. "And I’m going to fuck you nice and slow so you know howexactlyhow much you mean to me.”
I looked up at him, my heart still racing. How much I meant to him? What did he mean?
“I mean,” he grinned, reading my expression perfectly. “That right now, in this room, you’re the person I love most in this world. And I’m going to show you just how much your happiness means to me.”
I felt my heart stutter at his words, but all I could do was nod and say, “Please.”
He lifted me slightly, then guided me back down, setting a rhythm that was maddeningly slow and perfect. Each time he filled me completely, those ridges dragged against my rim in ways that made my breath catch and my vision nearly disappear. And true to his word, he took his time, watching my face with those golden eyes, adjusting his angle until I was gasping and shaking with each thrust.
"That's it," he murmured, one hand moving to stroke my cock in time with his movements. "Let me take care of you, beautiful.”
I'd forgotten this feeling. Not just the physical sensation, though that was incredible, but the emotional weight of it. The feeling of being seen, being wanted, being treated like I was precious. Kieran moved inside me like he had all the time in the world, like my pleasure was a work of art he was creating with careful, deliberate strokes.
"I can't—" I started, then lost the words as he hit that spot inside me that made everything else disappear. "Oh god, Kieran?—"
"I've got you," he said, his voice rough with his own arousal but still steady, still in control. "Let go for me, Cal. Just let go."
And I did. I came harder than I had upstairs with Erik, harder than I could remember cumming in years, my whole body seizing as the orgasm tore through me. I was distantly aware that I was making sounds, probably loud ones, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Kieran's hand kept working my cock, drawing every last pulse from me while he continued to move inside me with those perfect, measured thrusts.
When my vision cleared, I found him watching me with something that looked almost like wonder.
"Beautiful," he breathed, and then his rhythm faltered, his grip on my hips tightening as he found his own release. I felt him pulse inside me, hot and thick, and the sensation sent aftershocks through my oversensitive body.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, his arms wrapped around me while I slumped against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, fast but steadying. The water lapped gently around us, and somewhere in the room, those pan pipes continued their soft melody without him playing them.
"How do you feel?" he asked eventually, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.
I took inventory. My body felt loose and satisfied in a way it hadn't in years. My mind, usually racing with deadlines and obligations and the endless mental noise of my job, was quiet. For the first time in months, maybe longer, I wasn't thinking about what I needed to do next.
