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He obliged, pressing his second finger in deeper. It seemed like the worst of it was over, because now that he was inside with two fingers, I found myself relaxing around him in a way that had seemed impossible even just a minute ago.
“You’re doing so good,” he said.
Every time he praised me, a little zing went through my body. Butterflies, all over again.
All my life I’d wondered what it truly felt like to have a massive crush on someone, and now I was pretty sure I had my answer: when somebody had two fingers deep in your ass and all you wanted was to beg for more, to hear them say how good you were, to cuddle up afterward and talk about all of your thoughts and feelings?
Yeah. I’d say that was a sure sign of a crush.
I reached up to run my fingertips along his chest as he slowly began to pump his fingers inside me. With every passing second, it only felt better, and I found myself even starting to slowly buck my hips again, like my body was begging for more.
Harlan’s fingers quirked up to hit a certain spot that felt way too fucking good and I moaned, arching my back.
“What the fuck is that?”
He hummed. “Take a wild guess.”
“Oh my God, is that how the prostate feels?”
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
I widened my eyes, looking up at him. “Now I’m mad.”
He paused, furrowing his brow. “Mad?”
“I could have been feeling that for my whole adult life, and you didn’t show me?”
He puffed out a laugh, and the sight of him smiling was like a ray of sunlight, warming me all over. “Sorry I didn’t shove my fingers up your ass when we were just friends, Goose. I really should have just showed you the neat little prostate trick.”
“I know you’re joking, but holy fuck,” I said, gripping the sheets with one of my hands. “I wish I had known earlier. What have I been doing with my life?”
He moved his fingers along the spot again and I made a desperate sound, arching under his touch just like I had before. It wasn’t just good, it was another stratosphere of good that I hadn’t even known existed.
“I like seeing you like this,” he said in a low rumble. “I’m not even inside you yet, and I’m already so hard for you, Sawyer.”
The way my name sounded coming from him was too good. I needed more. I needed to hear him saying it while he was inside me. While he was coming. Fuck, there were so many things I wanted to experience with him and learn about him.
Things I’d gone years not even scratching the surface of.
“Need you inside me,” I said. At this point I didn’t give a fuck if it sounded like I was begging.
“Think you’re ready for that?”
“No. And I don’t care.”
“You,” he said.
I gripped at his arm, squeezing hard. “I don’t know if I’m ready, but I know I want to try. Please?”
Now I was really begging. He ran his free hand along the side of my face, and when his thumb passed by my lips, I gave it a bite.
“So fucking hot,” he said quietly. “Get on all fours again.”
There was that zing again, all through my body. He pulled his fingers out from inside me and I felt empty immediately. I didn’t know how it was possible to go from tension and pain to pure, white-hot satisfaction in a matter of minutes, but it had happened, and now I felt addicted.
As I turned over on all fours again, though, I felt the first hints of a slight nervousness hitting me. At this point I was half delirious, like he’d already finger-fucked me into some surreal state of mind where I was desperate and needy for more touch. Not that I was complaining about that—I felt safer with him in control than I did during almost any other hookup I’d had before.
My knees and palms sank into the firm mattress again. I was in the same position I’d been in before, but now it was the real deal. I wasn’t able to look into his eyes now, and I knew his cock sure as hell wasn’t small.
Was I going to be able to take it?
Was I going to be good enough for him, after he’d had a lifetime of being with far more experienced guys?
I heard the sounds of crinkling and then the lube cap opening again behind me and I knew he’d just put on a condom and slicked himself. The moment the warmth of his free hand hit the small of my back, some small part of the nervous feeling evaporated.
“It’s going to hurt a little bit,” he said, his voice full of the kindness I’d known for years.
I breathed deep. There was no reason to hesitate now. This was Harlan. The Moose to my Goose. The person I trusted more than anyone, and the person I loved without question.
