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He lifted off suddenly, heaving a shaky sigh. My cock thudded, wet and desperate. I couldn’t help whining and squirming a little under him.

“Can’t stop myself,” he huffed. “Need you in me.”

I stopped fellating the inanimate object and lifted my heavy, dripping cock with one hand. Without another word, he steadied the head at his hole and then sank down on me. The sensation of being inside him, of him clenching hot around me as he rocked his hips in that same, snaky motion, was absolutely fucking wild. My balls ached, a little tingly, a little numb, ready to unload; I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes to fight it down.

He settled a hand on my lower belly gently, fingertips swirling in my hair, and whispered, “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head and opened my eyes. “No. No, it feels fucking amazing. Don’t stop.”

He leaned back slightly, gaze raking over me. I readjusted, planting my feet on the mattress and lifting both knees, so he settled his hands on them and leaned back even further. As human as he struck me most of the time, in this moment, he was the epitome of magic; he was as ethereal as he was ravenous.

He rode my cock with slow, measured movements at first, eyes rolling back in his head when he fully impaled himself on me. When he sat and rocked, like he wanted to get even more of me inside him, I couldn’t help fucking up into him. He squeezed and lifted, mouth opening wide before he managed, “Don’t move too much, darlin’. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I said stupidly. He very well could, but I knew he wouldn’t. “I might hurt myself, though.”

He bit at his bottom lip and rocked down on me again. I held one hand out, palm facing him, to give him something to rub against. He left my fingers wet, grabbed them and shaped them into a little hook so he could grind down on them when he sat.

I did not fucking move those fingers, and honestly I was grateful for them—if I hadn’t been able to focus on doing something for him, I would’ve nutted in the first sixty seconds. But I knew I wasn’t going to last long; my balls ached to unload, pushing me toward that edge between numbness and ecstasy.

But Jack was in his groove by then, bouncing on me and groaning like I was rearranging his DNA every time he sat down. He squeezed tight as he pulled up, his thighs tensing, then let it go and slid back down on me, only to squeeze again.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking good,” I gasped.

The sound of him bouncing on it was so wet, it reminded me of the hot bath from last night. He repeated in a hot, rough whisper, ”So fucking good.”

My brain fizzled out completely right there, and no fucking wonder. I was losing it, the world going black around the edges, but I managed to huff out a warning. “I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard.”

“Lemme hear you. Lemme feel it,” he breathed, picking up speed.

My hand slipped out of position, and he covered it with one of his own, holding it in the right spot. He throbbed against it as he rocked down on me one more time, then two, then—

“Fuck, Jack!” I did exactly as he asked and let it go, moaning, half-screaming as I unloaded shot after shot of cum inside him. It slid down his thighs as he kept going, riding me faster and pressing my hand into his throbbing, swollen clit. I shuddered and fucked up into him hard, sending another spasm of electric pleasure through my whole body; he ground down into it and gasped. He pulsed hard over and over again; his insides clenched around me; his body shuddered as he held onto my knee and hand for dear fucking life.

The room kept spinning for a good thirty seconds after the aftershocks stopped shaking me. Jack let go of my hand—the pads of my fingers were wrinkly with wet—and pushed himself off my knee. He fell forward, catching himself on both hands so he hovered above me, the curtain of his hair tickling my face.

“You alright?” he huffed. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You can ride me like a fucking rodeo bull all night and I’ll be just fine. I promise you that,” I managed, though breathless.

He laughed and lifted his backside, and I slid out of him with a wet sound. We both gave a little “oof” at the sensation, and then I was laughing with him.

He collapsed off to my side, breathing ragged, and reached up to push some curls out of my face. I turned my head to admire him, all sweaty and naked and exhausted in the dark. I wanted to tell him he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever met, but he beat me to it with, “I wish I could ride you all night. Every night.”

I grinned, feeling a little smug—who wouldn’t? “I didn’t even do anything. Wait ’til I’m not bruised all to fuck and can drop the pillow princess act.”

“I like how thick you are.” His fingertips trailed down my chest and into my happy trail, all the way to the sticky base of my cock. I was glistening wet still, as were his thighs. He said, “Feels great inside me.”

Oh yeah. I was about to become insufferable for sure. “My body isn’t much to look at,” I admitted, “but sometimes skinny boys are surprising like that.”

“Your body is perfect,” he told me.

I huffed out a laugh, still trying to catch my breath. The air was cool against my wet belly and deflating cock, and his fingers tickled up and down my torso. Everything felt so good. “Yours, though. I should’ve known you could move like that. All that grace and all that muscle…”

He shrugged. “I used to think I wanted a different body. But I didn’t; I just wanted mine to feel like me.”

I already suspected the answer, after that fine performance from him. But I still asked, “And does it?”

He nodded and smiled, the sweetest, biggest smile, and it made his dimple seem even deeper.