We stay there, me on my elbows and knees, shaking. His hands brace on either side of my head. He starts to move.
It’s fast and deep, punishing from the first thrust. I’m loud immediately, loud groans and curses, his name torn out of me almost every time he slams home. The apartment is full of boxes and thin walls, and I don’t give a fuck who hears.
He fucks me like a man who knows this is the last time. Hips snapping hard, cock dragging every ridge and vein against my walls until I’m split open and still begging for more. My ass grips him tight, muscles fluttering helplessly around that thick base. Every pull-out feels like he’s taking half of me with him before he drives back in.
He leans over me, chest to my back, bites down on the nape of my neck hard enough to mark. “Fuck, Lance,” he growls against my skin. “This tight ass takes my cock so goddamn deep. Open up for me. Let me take you the way you need.”
I’m memorizing everything—the heavy slam of his thighs against mine, the wet slap of skin, the smell of rain, sweat and raw George filling my lungs.
He suddenly pulls out and flips me onto my back in one smooth motion. Then he hooks his powerful arms under my thighs and stands, raising me completely off the bed. My legs lock tight around his waist on instinct.
There’s nothing holding me up except his strength. There’s no floor or bed—nothing but him. He fucks me for a long moment suspended in the air, hips snapping upward with raw power, driving his cock so deep. My full weight forces me down onto his entire length with every thrust. The burn is merciless and perfect.
The angle is devastating. He carries me across the room like I weigh nothing, slams my back against the cool glass of the window. The rain-streaked pane is freezing against my shoulders while his body burns everywhere else. He fucks me there standing, face-to-face.
“Lance,” he breathes, “Gonna ruin this hole, you, tonight.”
I hold onto his shoulders and take every thrust and grind. My own cock is trapped between us, leaking steadily against his stomach. I rock against him, trying to match the punishing rhythm even though he’s doing all the work.
Still buried to the hilt, he lowers us into the old armchair in the corner. I straddle him and ride him hard while his hands guide my hips in a bruising grip. The chair creaks and groans under us like it might collapse. I lean in, bite down on the thick muscle of his shoulder, marking him back the way he’s marked me everywhere. He groans, tilting his head back against the chair, and thrusts up to meet me.
He carries me back to bed. After a few more punishing strokes on my cock, I come hard and loud, spilling over his fist while my ass locks down around him so tight he curses brokenly. He follows seconds later, shuddering through it as I feel the hot pulse of his cum flooding deep inside me, his face pressed to my neck.
We collapse together, breathing like men pulled from the deep. He doesn’t move off me right away. He stays heavy on top of me, one hand flat over my ribs like he’s counting every heartbeat. I stare at the ceiling and force every thought out on purpose.
His cock is still half-hard inside me, still stretching me open. He lets out a low, broken sound against my neck.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re still so goddamn tight. Thought I’d destroyed you enough for one round.”
“You seriously think one round is enough tonight?”
He lifts his head and narrows his eyes on me, then drags his thumb across my bottom lip and presses it inside just enough to feel my tongue. His cock twitches hard inside me.
“No,” he says, the word coming out thick and hot. “Not even close.”
He pulls out slow. I feel his cum immediately start to leak from my hole. He watches it drip down my thigh, a low groan escaping him. He moves me onto my side, hooks one of my legs over his hip. He pushes back in with one forceful thrust.
The new angle hits deeper and different. I swear I feel him in places I didn’t know existed.
“I’m gonna make sure you feel me for days,” he grits out. “Every time you sit, every time you move, you’re gonna remember this cock splitting you open.”
From there, the night blurs—round after round, position after position. We lose count. Each time we come down, George stays buried deep inside me a little longer, breathing warm against my neck, his hands slowly stroking down my spine. And each time, it comes back faster and hungrier than before, because neither of us can stand the thought of this ending.
Tears come then, without warning or sound.
They’re not sobs, just silent tracks slipping down the sides of my face, warm against the cooling sweat. His rhythm falters, hips still buried deep, and he pulls back just enough to look at me. His thumbs brush the streaks away, so gently it fucking hurts.
He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He already knows.
I shake my head, stubborn. “Don’t stop,” I whisper, breath hitching. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
His eyes flicker with grief, need, and the same raw thing clawing at my chest. He doesn’t speak. He just pulls me tighter, one big hand cupping the back of my head, and fucks me slower, deeper, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me from the inside.
I silently cry through it all, tears mixing with sweat as I ride him hard, taking everything he gives me. If this is goodbye, I want every brutal second burned into my body.
When we finally break, my body is shaking so much my limbs flail about. His thrusts turning ragged, he collapses half on top of me. His hand finds mine. Our fingers lace tight.
He doesn’t say anything. We don’t have to.
