Patrick gazed into my eyes, letting go of his cock and placing both hands on my thighs, close to my hips. He hooked my body that way and waited, letting me inhale before thrusting himself a fraction of an inch deeper. “Good?”
“It’s fucking heaven,” I told him, breathing again with relief as Patrick swayed his hips back and thrust them forward.
A layer of sweat glistened on Patrick’s tanned skin. His abs flexed hard, a gorgeous view between my legs, and he jerked himself forward, ramming into me slightly harder. Each time, the thrust was a little more powerful than the last. Or it appeared to me that way. He was deeper, I knew that, and it felt almost like trying to inhale more air than my lungs could hold, except that I kept finding that I very much could if only I did it the right way.
Because it felt like breath. It felt like oxygen, like the source of life, like the essence of existence. It freed me just the same as it bound me. It freed me from the anticipation and anxiety, and it bound me to him. I didn’t go into this wanting that to happen, but I had known it might.
I looked at his face, at his body, into his blazing blue eyes as he fucked me, and I knew I was his. Utterly, completely, indestructibly his.
For better or worse.
“Fuck me harder,” I begged, probably because I had heard it before, not because I was confident I could take it. But it didn’t hurt. Not after that first brief flash of white heat that consumed your body and made you think you could never go through with it. Not when he was so careful—so very careful—about your needs and your limits.
Did men like this even exist? If so, they were as rare as unicorns. I struggled to believe one was with me, here, inside me. I struggled to believe any of this was real until the moment Patrick’s hips quickened their pace and he leaned deep in, pressing his lips hard against mine.
He fucked me like I only could have dreamed. There were few words that could come close to capturing what these moments were.
My feet slipped off his chest, and my legs coiled around his waist, my arms twisting around his shoulders and holding him close. He buried his tongue in my mouth, kissing me, filling me with his heated breaths, his saliva, and his body.
Each thrust of his hips brought me closer to Heaven of sorts, or Hell if you wanted to be literal about it. But I didn’t care which one it was. Sin or virtue, joy or damnation, it was all the same to me so long as I could hold on to him, so long as I could feel him deep inside me, impaling me and owning me.
I had no doubt about who I belonged to. This, in a way, was a ritual, a transfer of power and a surrender.
You are the only god I believe in, I thought.And I believe in you with all I have. And all I have is all I give you.
My hands found Patrick’s. My fingers feathered up his arm until I reached his biceps, holding them in a merciless grip, and his fingers went to my throat. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t even domination. It was only a level of intimacy that could be born out of a whole lot of trust.
I bared my neck for him a little more, digging my fingers into his arms while he tightened his hands around my throat. He kissed me, sweat dripping from his brow and into my face, his cock sliding into me just the way I needed. The tip pressed hard against my prostate over and over again. And Patrick’s years of fooling around made him such an idea lover that it never crossed my mind to hold his past against him. I adored the things he knew. And he knew when to speed up and when to slow down. He knew, without me telling him, that he was pushing me to my limit, and he didn’t try to push himself any deeper than that. Instead, he hurried up, filling my body with sensations I could hardly process, then slowing all the way down, making me focus on this brilliant, breathtaking feeling of his dick reaching for my prostate, rubbing against it, pressing it, pressuring it until the sensation was such that I felt like an overflowing dam. I felt like I was about to burst.
“Fuck,” I panted. “Just like that. Please. Just…a little more.” And he did exactly that. For all the flashiness in the rink and fancy moves, Patrick had nothing to prove to anyone here. He didn’t need to go above and beyond. He just did what made me feel the best.
My face rippled with pain and pleasure as he brought me close to the climax, keeping me there for a few heartbeats longer before the tension simply snapped.
It buzzed through me like a bare wire, surging through my whole body with a single end in mind. Every part of me twisted and coiled, lit up as if I were made of fire. My dick throbber harder still. My hole clenched so hard and fast that I couldn’t control it, and I could see its effect on Patrick’s beautiful face.
The heat of my cum sprayed my stomach and chest just as I reached between us to hold my cock. It spurted continuously after hours and days of teasing and running away, of being on the edge even when I wasn’t hard and horny.
I came messily, almost embarrassingly so, and the world spun around me while I was afloat, in an entirely different realm.
Patrick’s eyebrows contorted harder the longer I failed to make my hole relax. Did it hurt? Did he enjoy it? His eyes rolled upward, and he cried for God, telling me he was coming.
His throbbing dick buried deep into me sent ripples of tingles and shivers through the rest of my body. He came hard, shuddering all over, sweaty and glorious, and smiling like he didn’t have a regret in the world.
I had never seen someone smile while coming. Not in a million videos. I had never seen someone so genuinely joyful in that moment of barest intimacy.
His arms trembled. His legs shook. His abs rippled restlessly with electric tension. And as he pulled his dick out and slipped the condom off—his dripping cum left a beautiful trail along my left thigh—he kept the smile on.
He tossed the condom onto a towel at the edge of the bed and crashed next to me, pulling me tight against his sweaty body. There wasn’t an inkling, not even a hint, that he might have changed his mind after coming. Whatever that clarity they spoke of was, it had no room here. I was as far from clearheaded as I had ever been. Not horny anymore, but drunk on lust and glory we had just shared.
He held me, his face buried into the crook of my neck. I could feel his smile without having to look.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
“Funny? Nothing,” he said. “I’m just…fuck, I just did it with a guy.”
I tensed a little.Clarity? Is that you?
But Patrick lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “And not just any guy. The best guy. You.”
