Page 29 of His for Hanukkah

“Yes, please, Tate! Your slut. For you. Your cock.”

He dropped the silly cooking utensils as Tate spun him around. Tate manhandled his body with one arm across his chest and the fingers of his other hand still buried inside him. Adam was going to combust.

He suddenly found himself pressed facedown into the kitchen table, Tate’s hot body over him. He pounded into him roughly with his fingers.

Then, the arm around his chest withdrew, and the fingers inside him stopped moving. Adam pushed back to increase the friction.

“So hot, baby.” Tate’s words kept him wrapped close even though his body pulled back for a moment. Adam vaguely registered that he was probably opening his jeans. He wanted him to hurry. He fucked himself on Tate’s fingers, his cock thumping against the edge of the table but not getting any friction.

A condom packet landed on the table, the top ripped open. That was good. It meant he was closer to getting what he needed.

At last, Tate’s body pressed down on him again, pinning him to the table. The fingers withdrew, leaving Adam feeling empty. He keened.

Then, miraculously, Tate was pushing into him. And he wasn’t being gentle. There was no warm-up, no easy start.

And Tate was big. Humongous. Probably bigger than anyone who had been inside him before. He felt gloriously ripped open, pain merging into pleasure even before Tate found that special spot inside him and started fucking into it hard.

It was almost too much, too hard. The pleasure was almost frightening in its intensity. He flailed around, trying to get away even as he pushed backward into every thrust.

In one fluid move, Tate grabbed both of Adam’s hands and pinned them over his head. He struggled against Tate’s tight hold on his wrists, and God did that feel good.

He couldn’t move at all. He was trapped. Owned.

He sank into the table, powerless to do anything but accept everything that Tate gave him.

Tate’s other hand gripped his hip, pushing Adam’s body back to meet his hard thrusts. He felt ripped apart and helpless.

It was rough and wild, Tate using him for his pleasure. This was exactly what he’d always wanted.

Tate pulled him back in a different direction and it was like lightning racing through his body. His whole world was encapsulated in Tate’s hands pinning him down, his cock spearing him open.

After all that teasing, his orgasm was dangerously close. “Please, Tate. Please, can I…?”

Tate pressed his wrists even further into the table, his bones grinding against each other. It was too much and still not nearly enough.

With his other hand, Tate fisted Adam’s cock roughly. His hand was only half-slick with lube and where it wasn’t, the friction burned. Adam pumped into that tight fist as the pain became pleasure, and the pleasure became better than anything before.

“Now, boy. Come now.”

Waves crashed over him, rocking him to his very core. He was shaking from the inside out, breaking apart. Tate’s heavy weight on his back and his thick cock inside him were the only things holding him together.

As the tsunami quieted to a gentle tide, Tate inched back. He kept Adam pinned with one hand along his spine and Adam reveled in the sense of ownership.

Tate’s cock was still deep inside, and he felt a slight shift, then a rhythmic motion along his rim. But rather than in and out, the motion seemed to be side to side.

He’d never felt anything like it before, but even those small movements sent sparks through his overly-sensitized body. Was Tate toying with him? Trying to push him past his earth-shaking orgasm and into another one?

He was about to turn his head to investigate when he realized that Tate’s rapid breathing and increasingly loud groans mirrored the intensity of the flickering motion.

Holy fuck. Tate must be getting himself off.

A hazy picture developed in Adam’s mind of Tate’s hand down his own pants. He must have slipped behind the dildo to play with his own cock, his strong, corded arms a blur of motion.

He wanted desperately to see Tate when he came. But he wanted that arm holding him down more. Being used for his Dom’s pleasure.

Adam gasped as his sore muscles twinged and sparked, the extended stimulation overwhelming. His breath sped to match Tate’s.

Tate’s groans were becoming louder, more primal and uncontrolled.