Page 139 of Beau and the Beast

“You’resotight,” Wolfram said, his voice barely a whisper.

The pressure of the additional stretch tapered off quickly and was replaced by arousal. It was as if every few minutes Beau thought he’d never been so turned on in his life only to discover, a moment later, that it was possible for the feeling to get evenmoreintense.

As he adjusted, Beau wanted more. Not more pressure, but movement, friction. He wanted to be filled by something other than fingers. Beau reached to tug at Wolfram’s breeches, and after a moment, Wolfram kicked out of them without moving his hand.

Beau stroked him, pulling Wolfram’s hips closer with one hand as he ran his thumb over his slit with the other. He was leaking precum and the evidence of how much he wanted Beau, even before he’d been touched, heightened Beau’s own need.

“I’m ready,” he said quietly.

* * *

Wolfram’s senseswere lit up like a Christmas tree, his brain threatening to overheat as he struggled to process all of the different things going on. Beau smelled like honey and sex and his heartbeat was steady. Beau wasn’t afraid or anxious about what he wanted them to do—and, remarkably, his body seemed to be obeying his brain, relaxing and accommodating Wolfram.

“Are you sure?” Wolfram asked, continuing to pump his fingers into the willing body below him. “This fast?”

“I can’tbeany more relaxed, Wolf,” he said softly. “Please trust me.”

He nodded. Of course he trusted Beau.

“How do you want me?” Wolfram asked, unsure of what should happen next. He’d been so confident about taking the lead, preparing Beau for what he wanted—but ever-present fear of hurting Beau, of losing control threatened to take over as he stood at the precipice, about to get what he’d wanted so badly.

“Lay down.”

Wolfram pulled out, rolled to his back, and Beau climbed on top of him. He took a moment to retrieve the lube and slick Wolfram and then himself again before getting to his knees, his hips on either side of Wolfram’s waist.

With a firm grip, Beau guided the head of Wolfram’s cock to his entrance and then sank back.

Beau was tight and hot and he took Wolfram’s head too fast—pressing back onto him with such confidence that Wolfram lost his nerve and grabbed Beau hard by the hips, stilling him, preventing him from taking more at the first go.

Beau hissed against the feeling of it, the additional stretch as he took Wolfram for the first time.

He was so tight, pulsing around Wolfram as he took deep breaths, and arousal throbbed through him so hard that he was sure Beau could feel it. At this rate, he’d barely last a few strokes before he came into Beau—and the thought made him groan.

The animal part of him was awake, fully present in his mind as Beau struggled to take him. That part of Wolfram didn’t care about Beau’s pleasure. It only wanted to be buried in him, fucking him, marking him up until he was sated.

But even as the ugly thing in him reared its head, Wolfram felt in control of it.

He was a man, and for the first time in his life, he was making love to someone he loved.

The thought hit him viscerally. Hedidlove Beau. Of course he did. He’d never cared for someone like this in his entire life. He’d waited his whole life to fall in love with someone and it had finally happened at this illogical, incredible point.

He loved Beau and they could be together like this.

Emotion overcame him and he couldn’t stand not to be kissing Beau even as they coupled. He reached up to take him by the back of the neck, to pull him so that their mouths could meet. Their kiss was mellow and steady, some of the hunger gone now that they had this.

The moment was perfect and impossible and Wolfram wished that he could live inside of it for ten years—a hundred years—as the sensation began to erase the ten years of pain he’d felt before he’d ever heard the name Beau Blake.

* * *

When they brokefrom the kiss, Beau sank further back onto Wolfram and gasped at the pressure.

“Jesus, Beau—Good God,” Wolfram breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut. “Are you ok?”

Beau just nodded, concentrating, taking deep breaths.

The first few inches were easy and then the pressure became too much. Beau could feel a throb roll through Wolfram again.

The first time will be the hardest, he reminded himself. Beau willed himself to relax, to enjoy it, and slowly he took Wolfram deeper. It was so much—already the deepest he’d ever been fucked and he hadn’t even made the first stroke. A deep, wracking pleasure rolled through him as he walked the knife edge between ease and pain.

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