Flynn chuckled.“I can’t lie, I love seeing you like this.All needy and desperate, instead of that infuriating Oli self-discipline.”
At some point, I knew, I’d have to ask him what the hell he meant by that.Some other time, though, when my brain was capable of stringing more than two words together.
“Come on!”It was practically a curse.
And then a moment later, I got my wish.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
Anything beyond his grunting exclamation lost to the cough of my surprise.Not like I’d never bottomed before - even if it was the exception, not the rule - and yet nothing quite prepared you for that sensation, that shocking intimacy.
No pain, though; Flynn’s devious mouth, and tongue, and fingers having worked their magic well.Disbelief only truly setting in when I felt his weight pressing atop me.
“You feel so good.”The praise delivered so close to my ear, I could feel Flynn’s breath brush me.
I reached back, clinging to his neck.Not confident I could muster words, not yet.
He wanted more, though.
“Ask me for it, Oli.”
It was a grumbling noise, frustration, bubbling up from the depths of my chest.I didn’t want conversation, not now.
“I need you to ask for it,” Flynn pushed.
“Come on,” I managed, falling back on the familiar.
He chuckled, lips mashed against my skin.His heat like a blanket draped around me.
“Asshole,” I hissed; ignored his noise of amusement.“Fuck me.”
“Ask nicely, Oli,” he scolded.
I squeezed his neck, hard enough to bruise.“Fuck me, now.”
A laugh, and then he churned his hips - a slow, lazy circle - and it felt like my mind melted.
Stretching, and pulling, and filling, and the weight and the scent of him, all conspiring to drain anything from my skull bar the desperate need for that friction to continue.Trying to spread my legs wider, to open myself further to him, as if that might amplify sensations that were already borderline insufferable.Flynn barely moving, and yet no way for me not to squirm beneath him.
His teeth nipped, just slightly, at the curve of my ear.“Here’s the deal, Oli.”The words sounded thick, Flynn’s voice clotted with lust.“First it’s my turn.And then, the next time, you’re gonna show me how you made William feel.”
I couldn’t say I disliked either suggestion.The fact that his movements had paused while he spoke, though, was unforgivable.
“Focus,” I told him, slapping him on the side of the head.
Flynn laughed, and then he taught me the problem with hubris.
I hissed as his hips slapped down on me.Squeezing me against the mattress, driving the air from my lungs and what muddled thoughts remained from my brain.Nothing in my life bar the mashing together of our bodies.
“God, you feel good.”
The curse muttered almost grudgingly; anger in Flynn’s tone, somehow.One arm around my neck, now, clamped against my throat as he chased better leverage despite our sweating skin.
Part of me wanted to see his face, to watch the expressions on it shift and change like storm clouds as his orgasm approached.To match the twist of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes, the way his nostrils flared, with how he felt on top and inside of me.A map, shifting by the moment, of how pleasure and need changed my oldest friend; how it showed itself, how it co-opted his body now that I’d helped crack that veneer of self-control.
Instead I rocked beneath him, drooling across Flynn’s arm as I felt the heat and friction build.A hair’s breadth from my own climax, too, even with the sheets’ scant friction, and yet I could make do, fill in what gaps remained.Brain and body working in tandem, even if the former’s contribution was a gleeful self-satisfaction, a sense that I’d won, somehow.
“Don’t hold back, asshole,” I spat, the words uneven through lips that felt numb, and then there was nothing but his roar at my ear.
