For years, I had been told what men did together was unholy. But nothing about this felt like sin. Watching his body tremble beneath me shattered something buried deep. Or maybe it built something new. His release rewrote every whispered warning, every threat of hellfire, with one undeniable truth: this was not damnation. This was communion.
He exhaled roughly, then gently pushed my hand away from his softening cock. “Now focus on yourself,” he said, voice hoarse. “Let me watch you come. Let me see what I do to you.”
I obeyed, wrapping my hand around my aching cock. Ezra’s release slicked my grip, making every stroke glide with dizzying friction. Inside me, the vibrator kept its rhythm, relentless and deep. My muscles coiled, desperate for release, my breath coming hard and fast.
“That’s it,” he said, watching me like I was art. “Use what I gave you. Let me see how good it feels.”
His words lit another fuse inside me. The heat of his gaze. The vibrator humming against that sacred place. The wet slip of my palm. It built fast, too fast.
“Perfect,” he murmured, reaching to pinch my nipple. His fingers rolled the sensitive bud with just enough pressure to steal my breath. “You deserve this. You’ve earned it.”
The sharp contrast between the sting of his fingers on my nipple and the deep, insistent vibration inside me fused into something I couldn’t untangle. My hand moved faster, guided by Ezra’s voice and gaze. Everything else fell away. Nothing existed beyond the way he watched me. The way he held space for this unraveling.
When I came, it didn’t explode—it unfolded. Slow and wide and deep, like something blooming inside me that had waited years to be named. My body trembled through it, helplessagainst the waves that kept rolling. Hot pulses spilled over my fingers and belly, each contraction more intense than the last.
Just when I thought it had crested, Ezra shifted the vibrator, pressing it more firmly against that spot inside me. The second release hit so hard I sobbed, my entire body seizing with it.
“Oh God, oh God,” I cried, the words torn from me. My cock jerked again, weak but still trying. Every nerve felt flayed raw. The pleasure was too much, and yet I couldn’t stop chasing it. Couldn’t stop needing it.
“Let it out,” Ezra whispered. His hand never faltered. “All of it. Everything they made you carry. Every lie about your body. Every sin they burned into your skin. Let it go.”
I didn’t just come. I emptied. Shame, fear, grief—all of it surged to the surface and spilled from me. It wasn’t just climax. It was an exorcism. My body convulsed, my throat raw from gasping. I couldn’t tell where the pleasure ended, and the pain began. It was the same thing now. It had always been the same thing.
Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t care. My vision blurred, muscles shaking with each aftershock. I clung to him as if I might shatter.
“Please,” I choked out. I didn’t know what I was begging for. Mercy. More. An end. A beginning. “Please, Daddy. I can’t—”
“You can,” he said, voice low and commanding. “This is your baptism. Your rebirth. Let the old Micah go. Become who you were meant to be.”
My cries turned primal, animal sounds torn from somewhere beyond language. The vibrator continued its relentless rhythm, dragging every aftershock from my trembling body. Scripture verses, warnings, the voice of my grandmother—all of it burned away in the crucible of this moment, until only sensation remained.
When I had nothing left to give, when I thought I was finally empty, something impossible happened. The waves didn’t stop. My cock jerked with each invisible climax, dry now, but the pleasure still pulsed. There was no release, only pure, sensation-born light burning through every raw nerve until I was nothing but the memory of a body.
I collapsed into him, wrecked and weeping, my chest heaving with sobs I didn’t try to hide. I couldn’t. The wall I’d built to keep my soul separate from my flesh had shattered. I wasn’t split anymore. Just aching. Just held.
“Shhh,” Ezra whispered, pulling me into his arms. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He cradled my head against his shoulder, pressing his cheek to my hair. One hand slid down my spine in slow, rhythmic passes, the other anchored at my waist. He didn’t rush to clean me. Didn’t fill the silence with more words. He just held me while I trembled, letting my breathing sync with his.
“You did beautifully,” he murmured eventually, lips brushing my forehead. “You gave me everything. I see you, Micah. All of you. And I’m still here.”
My fingers clutched at his shoulder, grounding myself in the solidity of his body. I wasn’t floating anymore. Not drowning either. Just adrift in the space between undoing and becoming.
“So brave,” he said again, softer this time. “You’re everything I hoped you’d be. And more.”
His touch never stopped. His hands mapped me gently, reverently, like he was still learning the shape of what I’d become. Like he was trying to memorize this trembling new version of me.
I couldn’t speak. Could only press my face into the crook of his neck as the tremors kept rolling through me. He held me without hurry, letting me fall apart in his arms without trying to fix it. No demands. No shame. Just quiet, steady presence.
His heartbeat beneath my ear became my anchor, pulling me back from the edge of whatever I’d unraveled into.
“My sweet boy,” he whispered, fingers combing gently through my sweat-damp hair. “You’ve been carrying so much for so long. But you don’t have to anymore. Not with me.”
Time stopped meaning anything. Maybe minutes passed. Maybe hours. I just breathed against him, letting the sound of his voice and the heat of his skin rebuild the shape of me.
Eventually, my sobs softened into ragged breaths. The violent shaking eased into soft tremors. My muscles, pulled tight as piano wire, began to release.
Ezra’s hand never stopped tracing soothing circles on my back. My skin started to cool. My thoughts started to return. I noticed the way the sheets clung to us, the sticky-slick places where our skin met. I felt the dried salt on my cheeks, the weight of his arm wrapped around my waist.
