His breathing quickened as I lowered my head. The first touch of my tongue against him drew a startled gasp that quickly transformed into a moan of pleasure. I worked him slowly, thoroughly, using my mouth to prepare him for what was to come.
“Damien,” he gasped, his hands fisting in the sheets. “That feels incredible.”
Encouraged by his response, I continued, alternating between long, teasing strokes and more focused attention. His thighs trembled on either side of my head, and the small sounds escaping him grew more desperate.
When I judged him ready, I reached for the lubricant, coating my fingers. I circled his entrance with one slick digit, watching his face for any sign of discomfort as I slowly pressed inside.
“Okay?” I asked.
“More than okay,” he breathed. “Keep going.”
I worked him open, adding a second finger, then a third, stretching him with gentle patience. I curved my fingers slightly, searching for that spot that would bring him the most pleasure. When I found it, his back arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from his throat.
“There,” he gasped. “Right there.”
I stroked that spot again, watching in fascination as pleasure overtook his expression. His legs fell wider, a silent plea for more.
“I need you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with raw honesty. “Now, Damien. Please.”
I couldn’t deny him anything when he looked at me like that. I withdrew my fingers and positioned myself between his thighs, lifting his legs to rest against my chest. The position opened him to me, vulnerable and trusting.
I coated myself generously with lube, then aligned our bodies, the tip of my cock pressing against his entrance. With deliberate slowness, I pushed forward, watching his face carefully for his reaction.
“Relax,” I murmured, stroking his thigh. “Breathe with me.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath as I continued my careful entry. The tight heat engulfing me was overwhelming, but I maintained control, determined to make this perfect for him.
When I was fully inside him, I paused, giving him time to adjust to the sensation. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
“Are you alright?” I asked, concerned by his silence.
His eyes fluttered open, and the look he gave me was so full of pleasure and wonder that it stole my breath.
“I’m perfect,” he whispered.
Relief and desire coursed through me and I began to move, establishing a slow, deep rhythm that had him moaning with each thrust. The sight of him spread beneath me, taking me, was almost too much to bear.
“Shane,” I breathed. “You feel amazing.”
He reached for me, pulling me down into a kiss that was messy and perfect. The change in angle drew a sharp gasp from him as I hit that spot inside him with each thrust.
“Harder,” he urged against my mouth. “Please, Damien.”
I complied, increasing the force and speed of my movements, driving into him with controlled power. His cries grew louder, less restrained, and the knowledge that I was bringing him such pleasure pushed me closer to the edge.
I reached between us, wrapping my hand around his length, stroking in time with my thrusts. His reaction was immediate—his back arching, his muscles tightening around me.
“I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained.
“Let go,” I encouraged him. “I want to see you come apart.”
Those words seemed to break something in him. With a cry that might have been my name, he reached his climax, his body tightening around me in pulsing waves as his come spilled over my hand and onto his stomach.
The sight of him in the throes of such intense pleasure, combined with the rhythmic clenching around me, pushed me over the edge. My own release hit me with sudden, overwhelming force. I buried myself deep inside him, my vision blurring as waves of pleasure washed through me.
For a moment, neither of us moved, connected as intimately as two people could be. Then I carefully withdrew, collapsing beside him on the bed. I gathered him into my arms, brushing sweat-dampened hair from his forehead.
“That was...” he began, seeming to search for words.