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“Fuck, Bran.” I hold his gaze. “Say that again.”

“I’m gonna... breed... this... hole.” Each word driven into me with a thrust. “Fill you up until it’s leaking out of you. You won’t sit right for a week. Walking around campus all bow-legged, and everyone’s gonna wonder why.”

“Jesus Christ.” My head drops back.

“Eyes on me.” He grabs my jaw and wrenches my face up. “Don’t you dare look away. I want you to see who owns this ass.”

His thumb presses against my bottom lip, then shoves inside. I suck on it instinctively, tongue swirling around it, tasting salt and sweat. Having him in both ends, cock splitting me open while his thumb fills my mouth, makes my brain go completely blank.

He starts hammering me. Relentless. Pulling all the way out before slamming back in. The angle is devastating. Every thrust punches the air from my lungs. The sloppy smack of skin, the squeak of the bedsprings, the wet slurp of my hole taking him deep. We’re louder than any girl either of us has ever brought home. The neighbors are getting an earful today.

“You take it so good,” he pants, every thrust landing with his full weight behind it. “So fucking good. This hole was made for my cock, Dyl. You know that?”

“Uh-huh,” I manage around his thumb, drool running down my chin.

“Made for it. That’s why me and you work, Dyl. Everything we do. Talking shit, lifting, gaming... fucking.” He grins, teeth flashing in a flushed face. “Best team in the building.”

The rhythm falters. His jaw drops open, a vein in his neck standing out, and the thrusts go short and choppy, losing their power.

“Dyl.” The thumb slides out of my mouth, but his hand stays on my jaw. “I need to⁠—”

“Do it, Bran. Fill me up.”

“Not that.” His hips grind to a halt, buried deep. He stares down at me, breathing ragged. “I need to—fuck. Come here.”

He leans down, folding me further, and puts his mouth on mine.

Before I can process what’s happening, his tongue is past my lips. We’re kissing. Sloppy, desperate, his stubble scraping my chin raw. I wrap a leg around his waist, pull him deeper into me, and kiss him back just as hard. Teeth clashing, breathing hard through our noses, neither of us willing to break it. I’ve never kissed anyone like this. Like we’re trying to crawl inside each other.

It’s weird. Kissing a guy. Kissing Brandon. Tasting his mouth while his cock is buried inside me. But it’s also the best thing I’ve ever felt. The intimacy of it is more intense than the fucking, and I wasn’t ready for that. My hole clenches around him, and he moans into my mouth.

Then he pulls back, gasping. “Shit. Shit.”

“Don’t stop.” I grab the back of his neck and drag him down again, but then I feel it. That throb inside me. His cock swelling, stretching me even wider, and a rush of wet heat flooding through me.

“Fuck, Dyl—” His face buries in my neck. “Take it. Take my fucking load.”

His body goes rigid. A shudder rips through him as he pulses inside me, pumping me full. I lock my arms around his back, my own cock trapped between us, grinding against his abs while he empties himself into me.

“Give it to me, Bran. All of it.”

He keeps twitching, grunting with each spurt, and I milk him with my hole, squeezing and releasing, greedy for every last drop. The idea of it, his cum inside me, marking me from the inside out, is what sends me over. I don’t even need a hand on my cock. One last grind against his stomach and I’m coming, shooting between us in thick ropes, coating the apron, the dress, his chest. A guttural cry tears from my throat as I ride it out, whole body shaking under his weight.

When it’s over, we collapse into a tangled, sticky heap. Brandon’s dead weight on top of me, his cock softening inside me, my legs still locked around his back. We’re both panting into each other’s necks.

I don’t know how long we lie there. Long enough for my pulse to settle, for the shaking to stop, for the room to come back into focus. The sheets under me are soaked. My own personal crime scene.

Brandon stirs. Pushes himself up on shaking arms and looks down at me. His face is a wreck. Flushed, sweaty, hair matted to his forehead. But his eyes are what get me. Glazed over and soft. The swagger is gone. The dominance. He’s looking at me in a way he’s never looked at me before.

“Jesus, Dyl,” he whispers. “What the fuck have we been doing?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious, Bran.”

“No, I mean—” He drops his forehead against mine. His cock slips out of me, and I feel his cum leak onto the sheets, a warm trickle. “Why haven’t we done that before? That was insane. I’ve never—” He swallows. “I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

“Me neither.” I drag a hand down his back, slick with sweat. “Didn’t even touch my dick.”

He pushes up onto his knees between my legs and takes it all in. The mess between us, his cum dripping from my gaping hole, the ruined costume, my stupid grin.