Page 35 of Mayfly

His legs tremble.

He couldn’t hold eye contact if he wanted to.

But this is better.

So much better.

He’s allowing himself to be vulnerable, and that means he feels safe.

He trusts me.

And so I push him further.

My grip on him tightens.

My strokes are just as brutal as my thrusts.

My other arm holds him as his body tremors.

His brow creases.

He's close.

He moans my name.

“That’s it,” I say—raw-throated and so damn close myself.

The way his head falls back. The way his mouth hangs loosely open, releasing desperate gasps between begging for more. It’s...

“Curren,” I say. I need him to hear me.

His response is a broken moan as I brush my thumb over the slit of his cock. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough, not with him. I want to fuck him for the rest of my life. Until I can’t walk. Until I’m dead.

His body bucks against mine.

I circle my thumb over his tip again.

His back arches—his body begging for release.

“I want you to come.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “Not without you.”

That protest earns him a sharp thrust.

He moans and throws his head back.

I have to dart my hand behind him so he doesn’t smash his skull against the tub.

I pump once, twice, three times.

He tries to claw at my shoulders but collapses against me, panting harshly as his body convulses.

I wrap my other arm around him.

His ass strangles my cock.

His cum splatters between us.

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