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I chuckled. “Top drawer, bedside.”
He sighed, a smile tugging on his lips. “Lie down on the bed, on your belly.”
My skin prickled all over and my balls drew down.
He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Spread your legs for me.”
Christ.
My knees felt like jelly, and I scrambled to do as he instructed. When I was face down and raised my hips to get my dick in a comfortable position, a bottle of lube and a foil packet hit the mattress beside me.
Oh hell yes.
The bed dipped and he ran his hands up the backs of my thighs as he came to kneel between my legs. I instinctively raised my hips and slid my hand underneath me to fist my cock.
“You want this as bad as I do, huh,” he murmured. He held my hips before he pressed tender kisses at the base of my spine. His fingernails biting into my skin, his hot breath and soft lips almost too much and nowhere near enough.
“Keats,” I mumbled, pressing my forehead into the mattress. I tried to give him more of my arse, tried to make him hurry.
I heard the muted click of the bottle lid, and even the cool drizzle of lube did little to quench the fire. When he ran his thumb over my hole, I thought the sparks might catch fire, but it still wasn’t enough.
Not even when he probed his slick fingers into me.
It just felt like he was adding more fuel to dry kindling and tinder when all I wanted him to do was hurry up and light the fucking match.
“Keats,” I said again, frustrated and desperate. “Stop playing with me. I need you to fuck me. Now.”
He chuckled.
He thought this was funny?
I was just about to give him a piece of my mind when he took my legs and flipped me over.
I don’t even know how.
But I was suddenly on my back with my legs up to my chest and he was leaning over me, his massive cockhead pressed against my arsehole. His face an inch from mine.
“Impatient?” he asked, the devil in his smirk.
Before I could answer, he pushed into me and I immediately regretted my urgency.
Holy shit.
Holy mother of god.
He pushed in until my body accepted his thick cockhead, the stretch giving way to a slow glide, and I could finally breathe.
Keats shuddered with restraint, his eyes squinted closed. “Oh my god,” he breathed. Then his eyes shot open, the fire in them flickering with concern. “Are you okay?”
I managed to nod. “I am now. The head of your cock... holy fuck.”
He shuddered again and pulled back and then drove up into me, slow and sure. “You’re really tight. Oh, god.” Then he kissed me, soft at first, then deeper, his tongue in my mouth keeping time with his thrusts.
He filled me so completely. Every inch, every space, every breath.
He rocked me, pushing my legs higher, pushing in deeper, and when he drove upwards, it struck something inside me.
Something magical and frightening.
