“Why do you like it in your ass?”
I stay silent, burning.
“Why?” he probes, clearly preying on me.
Instead of shrinking under it, instead of feeling ashamed or just wrecked with lust, I finally manage to meet his gaze and refuse to look away.
“Because it’s mine. It’s my body. My choice what happens to it.”
George’s expression changes in a heartbeat. It’s not gone exactly—the fire still there in his eyes, but blazing sharper now. It’s focused into something more than just pure hunger.
“And I listen to it,” I continue before I can second-guess myself. “I’m still a complete fucking disaster when it comes to other men. Dating, figuring them out, knowing how any of this fits into real relationships. All that shit terrifies me. But this? This is the one thing I’m sure about. I know what I want. I know how I want it.”
I swallow hard, my revelation probably knocking the wind out of both of us right now.
“It’s not just pleasure. It’s ownership of myself. Of what I let inside me.”
George goes completely still. He doesn’t look uncomfortable or surprised.
He looks at me like something just locked into place inside him, as if he’s seeing a version of me he didn’t realize he’d been waiting for. I can see admiration, even pride—fierce enough to make my chest tighten.
A slow breath leaves him.
“Jesus Christ, Lance.”
His thumb drags once along the silicone before he turns his gaze to the toys spread across the cabinet behind me.
“Nobody gets to make you feel lesser for knowing yourself,” he declares. “You understand me?”
Something in me gives way at that.
I never believed I needed anyone’s permission to be who I wanted to be. But deep down, some part of me had always expected this would be the kind of thing people would tolerate at best, until it became too explicit or impossible to ignore.
And George is looking at me like my confession, my honesty deserves respect. It hits so hard I almost have to look away.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I hear you.”
His eyes darken again after a beat, heat sliding back in.
“You’ve been taking all these into that tight little ass for months?” he says, gaze dropping to the cabinet again.
I nod, dissolving into a mix of arousal and raw self-consciousness.
“So, if I put this—or something else—in your hole right now, for exploratory purposes, would you like that?”
I’m short-circuiting. Words are failing me.
“Yeah,” I manage. “I think I’d like that.”
He slides the dildo down my neck. Across my collarbone, down my chest. Dragging lightly over my sternum and stomach.
He hooks a finger into the top of my towel and gives it a little tug. The flimsy thing drops to the floor, exposing me completely naked and leaking before him.
We gravitate closer. He pulls back abruptly, leaving me hanging, aching.
He steps back toward the bed and picks up the thick dark dildo like he’s handling evidence in a very personal crime scene.
“I like watching you use this one,” he says, voice loaded. “Really committed to the camera angles too.”
