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Cally laughed and shook his head. “Yes, Mikey. We can do that.”

“But you’re way bigger than me,” I pointed out, as I rearranged the pillows behind my back to get more comfortable.

He snickered, and it took me a second, but then I heard it, and groaned. “Oh, fuck you. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he said, moving until he was straddling my lap. “This okay?”

“Yeah.”

It was, but it was also kind of strange, too. I’d had girls ride me in this position, but I’d never had a partner who towered over me, where everything about their body was bigger and stronger and just … so much more than mine.

Cally cupped his hand in front of his mouth and spit into it, then ordered me to do the same. “Spit.”

I tipped my face forward, and did as I was told.

“I love it when you do what I tell you,” he confessed, his voice whisper soft. “It’s so fucking hot.”

My cock visibly jerked, and my belly swooped at the note or praise in his voice.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

I shrugged, unabashed. “Apparently so.”

“Good to know,” he said, then wrapped his spit-slicked hand around both our cocks at once, stroking upward, his grip firm.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I moaned.

“Good?” he asked, locking his free hand on the top of the headboard, and working us faster.

“So good,” I said, jackknifing my hips and hissing at the throb in my back.

His hand came off the headboard then, his fingers gripping my hair loosely as he tugged, forcing me to look up at him. “I got you, Mikey. Let me do all the work.”

His thumb swept over the head of my dick, and I shivered, breaking out in goosebumps from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet.

I couldn’t have said if my reaction was tied to how Cally was working our cocks, a physical sensation unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, or if it was the fact that the only thing he wanted from me was to enjoy myself. That for once in my goddamn life, someone wanted to take care of me instead of the other way around.

Whatever it was, I was drunk on it.

“Yeah, okay.” I forced my body to relax, forced myself to sit there and just feel. To take, instead of give.

Cally loosened his grip on my hair, but instead of letting go, his fingers twined into my curls, his palm cupping the back of my head.

“Fuck, Mikey. Look at you,” Cally panted from above me, his breath ghosting over my face. “So gorgeous. So fucking hot like this. I can’t wait to watch you come.”

His words wound me tighter until I was right there. I locked my eyes on his—all that electric fucking blue eaten up by black—and before I knew what I was doing or why I was doing it, I curled toward his mouth⁠—

—at the same time that Cally leaned back, opening up more space between us, and dropped his eyes down to watch his hand shuttling over our cocks.

I felt a brief, sudden pang of disappointment, until he said, “I love your cock, Mikey. So fat and thick.”

I looked down, watching it disappear into his fist, the movement slicked by the insane amount of fluid we were both leaking. “Oh god.” Unable to fight the need to move, I jerked my hips in time with his. “Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Oh shit, I’m gonna—” Cally’s body went rigid above me, his hips stuttering, and he let out a long groan as he shot his load onto my stomach.

My balls drew up tight, and I came with a shout, my cock spurting jets of cum over his hand and up my torso to mix with his.

“Fuck. Yes. Give it to me,” he gritted out, working every last drop out of me until I was completely fucking spent, my dick bordering on oversensitive.