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“Fair enough,” he agreed, walking over to his desk and pulling a bottle of lube out of one of the drawers. “I mean it, though, Trevor.”

“If, in the unlikely event that you hurt me, or do something that I don’t like, I will tell you,” I assured him. “Now, if we can stop with all this sexy talk…”

“I fucking hate you,” he muttered.

“That’s more like it.” I grinned over at him. “Come on, Princess. Show me how it’s done.”

He blew out a sigh but climbed up on the bed, kneeling between my thighs to force them further apart.

I’d thought I’d be nervous about this, but as Andy skimmed his hands up my legs and over my ass, then my lower back to my shoulders, I just wasn’t. I trusted him. And I really wanted this. Wanted him. In every way I could have him.

He began massaging my back, digging his fingers into my muscles, the remaining stitches in his hands scraping over my skin, but it actually felt kind of nice. He worked his way all the way down so that by time he reached my lower back, I’d fully relaxed into the mattress, almost afraid I’d fall asleep.

But then I heard the soft click of the lube bottle opening, and for the first time I tensed up a little.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” I answered, forcing myself to relax again. Because I did know.

“I’m going to touch you, and it’s going to feel weird at first,” he warned me.

“You sweet talker,” I teased him.

He made his agitation with me clear by pressing his finger inside of me a little harder and a little faster than I thought was necessary.

“Okay,” I said, breathing through my discomfort at the intrusion. “I’ll be nice.”

“Good boy,” he said, using my own words to him against me. “Relax.”

When I did, I realized that the smooth stroking of his finger actually felt kind of nice. I mean, I figured it had to be pleasurable or people wouldn’t do it. But I hadn’t expected to like it quite this much.

“I’m going to add a second finger now,” he said softly. “It might burn a little.”

I heard the lube bottle open again, then snick closed, and then he was pressing his fingers inside of me. But it didn’t burn. In fact, it felt really fucking good. Even better than his single digit had.

He shifted inside of me, turning his fingers and pressing against something inside me that had me lifting my hips and moving back into him, pleasure vibrating along my spine and causing my cock to absolutely weep precum into the mattress beneath me.

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling softly. “That’s your prostate.”

“Holy fuck,” I whispered, shivering when he hit it again. Whining when he did it yet again. And again. And again.

“Do you still want me?” he asked, pulling his hand free and opening the lube bottle once more.

“Yes,” I said. “Fuck yes, I want you.”

“Lift up,” he murmured, one of his hands sliding under my hips.

When I did he shoved a pillow under me and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was going to be absolutely ruined by my weeping erection.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“Doubtful,” I answered honestly.

“Good boy,” he said again, a smile in his voice.

He pressed his tip against my entrance and pushed forward gently. This time there was a definite burn and I hissed against the intrusion, causing him to stop, still stretching me but not moving any further.

“Trevor?”