He shifts position, lying back on the bed, legs spread. The vulnerability of it, the trust it implies, makes something catch in my throat.
"Can I help?" I ask, the words coming out before I can think better of them.
Asher looks surprised, then pleased. "You want to?"
I nod, curiosity and desire overriding any lingering hesitation. "Show me how."
Asher's smile is warm, appreciative. "Okay," he says, handing me the bottle of lube. "Start with plenty of this. More than you think you need."
I take the bottle, squeezing a generous amount onto my fingers as instructed, the gel cool and slick.
"Now," Asher continues, positioning himself more comfortably, "start with one finger. Go slow, and pay attention to how I react."
I nod, my heart racing as I move my hand between Asher's legs. I press one slick finger against Asher's entrance, feeling the muscle resist initially. "Like this?"
"Exactly like that," he confirms, his voice slightly strained. "Keep applying steady pressure, and it'll give."
I follow the instruction, and sure enough, the tight ring of muscle gradually relaxes, allowing my finger to slip inside. The heat and tightness make my cock throb.
"That's it. Now move it around a bit, get me used to the feeling."
I do as instructed, fascinated by the way Asher's body responds, the way his hole gradually relaxes around my finger. "This is... not what I expected," I admit.
"In what way?" Asher asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look at me.
I consider the question, trying to articulate my thoughts. "It's more... intimate than I thought it would be. More... I don't know, connected?"
Asher's expression softens. "That's because it is intimate," he says. "You're literally inside me right now. It doesn't get much more connected than that."
The simple truth of the statement hits me with unexpected force. This isn't just physical pleasure—it's vulnerability, trust, connection. The realization adds another dimension to what we're doing, makes it more significant somehow.
"I'm ready for another finger," Asher says, breaking into my thoughts. "Add more lube first."
I withdraw my finger, add more lubricant, then return with two fingers. The resistance is greater this time, but Asher's body gradually accepts the intrusion. I watch, fascinated, as my fingers disappear into his body.
"Curl them a bit," Asher directs, demonstrating the motion with his own hand. "There's a spot—"
I follow the instruction, and Asher's back arches off the bed, a gasp escaping his lips. "There," he confirms, breathless. "That's the prostate."
I repeat the motion, watching in fascination as Asher reacts, his cock twitching against his stomach, pre-cum beading at the tip.
"Can I..." I hesitate, unsure how to phrase my request.
"Can you what?" Asher prompts, his voice gentle despite the intimate position we're in.
"Can I use my mouth too?" I ask, the words coming out in a rush. "While I do this?"
Asher's eyes widen. "You want to?"
I nod. "I want to make you feel good. Both ways."
"Fuck," Asher breathes, the word sounding like it's been punched out of him. "Yes. Please."
The desperation in his voice sends a thrill through me. I position myself between Asher's legs, maintaining the motion of my fingers while leaning down to take Asher's cock into my mouth.
The angle is awkward, the coordination challenging, but the reward is immediate—Asher makes a sound that's almost a sob, his hands flying to my hair, not guiding, just holding on.
"Philip," he gasps, my name sounding like a prayer. "Fuck, that's... you're..."
