Page 77 of Love Language

M’s only response was to turn his fingers, pressing hard against G’s prostate and sending ropes of fire through his body. He arched back, keening as the forced pleasure raced through him.

M pumped in and out of his body, pausing only for a moment to add more lube. Without warning, he forced another finger in.

No! Please too much! Stop!

His pleas meant nothing.

M pumped his fingers in a few more times and then withdrew, leaving him bereft and empty.

Ready for your nephew’s cock?

No! That’s wrong. You can’t…

But M was already hitching his legs up over his shoulders, pressing his thighs back. He aimed himself and then slipped inside in one fluid movement.

G’s hands clawed at the couch, the glory and the pain of the intrusion too much for him to absorb. It was too fast, too much.

He was shaking and overpowered, small and helpless against his nephew’s cruelty. He felt dirty and used, driven into this unnatural closeness. The intimate fullness in his ass pulsed through him in waves, forcing him to feel that horrible pleasure.

Such a dirty old man, M cackled, his laugh harsh. Look at you stuffed with my cock. You want this, don’t you?

No, I don’t. I don’t want this. But as before, his cries were ignored.

M started pumping into him, hard and fast. After a few strokes, he found his prostate and nailed it mercilessly. Pleasure coursed through him, shaking him and breaking him open.

G felt words slipping away. Please, he signed, his own hand a caress on his chest. He didn’t know what he was asking for anymore, his whole world turned upside down.

M kept pounding away. Taking him. Owning him.

I need to come, he finally signed.

M smirked cruelly. It’s all the same to me, Uncle G. Whether you come or not, I’m going to use you until I’m finished with you.

G could feel his eyes rolling back in his head. There was something about that, something even hotter than orgasm denial, where the potential of his orgasm was simply irrelevant.

He was there to be used, his pleasure or pain of no concern to his aggressive nephew. If he came now, M might keep fucking his oversensitive body despite his very real cries. If he didn’t come now, M might come first, and he would miss his chance. And either way, M didn’t give a shit.

Please, he signed again, please. The word became an unending circle, his hand dragging over his own nipples, the only word he could form.

He watched M helplessly as rapture eclipsed the cruelty on his face. His breath was ragged, and his eyes were glazed in pleasure.

G was making him feel good, and the pride he felt in that settled into his core.

He could tell that M was getting close, and G desperately needed to come. The powerful thrusts were too sweet, the ecstasy on M’s face was too beautiful.

He wanted M’s permission, but he wasn’t going to get it. Or maybe he had already given it. It didn’t matter.

G reached down to touch his own dick, hoping he wouldn’t be reprimanded.

M’s eyes sparked in delight. You dirty old man. Getting off on your nephew’s cock.

G could only nod, tears leaking from his eyes. He was all of that, every horrible thing that M had said.

He began stroking himself, so close to the breaking point. M leaned forward, straining G’s legs farther, pushing more deeply inside.

Everything was coming together. The illicit scene, the elation on M’s face, the deep friction inside him, and his own tight hand. He grew closer, closer…

And then he was falling over the edge. He grabbed M’s shoulders, needing to be closer, needing somewhere to put all this beautiful pleasure and shame and love as it washed over him. Every nerve in his body sang, pulsing with the beat of his orgasm as it went on and on.