Page 41 of Bruised

“My cock?” I say, smirking. “Tomorrow. But only if you’re nice and relaxed for me now and let all three inside. You want them inside you, right?”

He nods, whimpering as I slide my fingers out to squirt more lube over his hole.

“You’ll feel really good, all stretched nice and wide. And tomorrow…” I slide two back inside, pressing the third past the tight ring of muscle. “You’ll finally get the real thing.”

“Oh,” he moans and grips the sheets, unconsciously moving away from my touch before he sinks back into it. I keep my fingers still, letting him adjust.

“How’s that, puppy? Almost too much?”

He nods, whimpering.

“My cock is bigger. But you’re going to be good and take it, right?”

“I will. I’ll be… g-good…” His voice disintegrates into a broken moan as I start moving my fingers inside him, making sure there’s plenty of lube to aid the slide. I don’t want to hurt him; this is to make him not hurt in the end, but it’s as much about control and submission as it is about preparing him for what’s to come.

His pink rim stretches around my fingers, glistening with lube. I gather saliva in my mouth and let it dribble down his crack, watching the glob of spit slide inside and lubricate him further.

“There,” I say as I feel him relax. “Well done. Three is a lot, isn’t it?”

He nods. He’s gone wordless again—only moans and whimpers escape his mouth as I set a faster pace.

I grab his hand and guide it underneath him. “You can touch yourself now, puppy. It’ll feel real nice to come while you’re stuffed this full.”

He closes his hand around his dick, a little hesitant for some reason. “If I do that, I’ll come.”

I chuckle, low and pleased. “Yeah, that’s the point. I want you to. You’ve done so well.”

“I have?” His arm moves quicker as he slides his fist over his cock. “I’ve been good?”

“So good. Now, you deserve to feel even better.” I angle my fingers to press against his prostate, and that’s all it takes; he yelps into the mattress as his hips jerk backward, sinking my fingers even deeper inside him for a moment. He moans and shudders, and I stare in fascination as I feel his insides clench around my fingers.

His knees buckle under him, but I keep him upright by slinging my arm under his waist. I’m not done with him yet.

“Want a preview?”

He gathers his breath before he answers. “Of what?”

“The real thing.” I didn’t plan this, but it feels like the right thing to do, and I do nothing if not follow my instincts.

Lane looks up at me, confused, but when I slide my cock between his thighs, nudging my shaft against his balls, he blinks in understanding. “Oh. Okay.”

Without me having to tell him, he squeezes his legs together, creating a smooth, tight channel for me to fuck into. Steadying him with a hand on his back, I thrust my cock between his thighs, nudging up against his supple balls, feeling them tighten. Only a few minutes have passed, and he’s already all worked up again. I don’t know if I’ve ever been with anyone with such a short refractory period.

“Please,” he whines, and fuck, do I love hearing him beg. “Please do it now. Just put it in.”

I shake my head, chuckling. I’m not about to lose control and throw out the plan I constructed for us just because he’s begging so sweetly, no matter how tempting it is…

“Just the tip,” he whimpers. And then, he does something that makes a rush of pleasure tighten the base of my shaft: he reaches his hands back and uses them to part his ass cheeks, offering his hole up to me. “Please.”

Oh, fuck.

I know he’s stretched enough at this point that I could just slide inside. I could grip my cock and shove it right in, but that wouldn’t be what I planned. And I always follow my plans.

To keep my mind off the temptation, I thigh-fuck him harder, faster, feeling the buildup of my release. I usually have impeccable control over my orgasms—when I come, when I don’t—but whenever I’m with Lane, it’s a bit harder to keep myself in check. I get too lost in him sometimes.

For now, we’ve already accomplished everything I set out for us tonight, so I allow myself to let go, eyes locked on his hole as my cock twitches. My abs tighten with the force of my orgasm, but I don’t let out any sounds other than a grunt and a breathless “fuck.”

We’re supposed to be quiet, anyway, but Lane isn’t the best at adhering to that particular rule. I might as well set a standard for us both to follow. I’m only kidding, of course; I love it when he’s loud—when he can’t help but let his pleasure out in moans and sobs, even though he’s breaking his own rules. It’s all part of the fun.