Page 14 of Collin: Episodes 4-6
“Breathe, boy.”
Collin dragged in air. The fingers worked together and apart, spreading the rings of muscle that guarded his passage. Someday, soon, he wanted to do this bound so he could fight and thrash without fear of being capable of drawing away from this welcomed assault.
“Sir.”
“You must take one more finger, Collin. You’ve not had much here, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you had anything?”
Collin shook his head. Of course, he’d had nothing. Mr. Reevesworth wasn’t inside him yet. The words replayed in his head, and he stilled. “Um, just once, sir.”
“Once?” Mr. Reevesworth’s fingers stilled.
Collin reached for him. They couldn’t stop, not now, not when he needed so badly.
“I’ve, usually, uh…topped, sir.”
“Oh? Why?”
“My partners preferred it, sir.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Reevesworth’s fingers moved again. “And did you enjoy it?”
“It made them happy, sir.”
“Perhaps we will have to teach you how to seek pleasure, pretty boy. You seem almost averse to it.” Mr. Reevesworth dragged his fingers over the bundle of nerves in Collin’s passage, driving him off the bed. Collin’s cock swelled in the cage and throbbed at its limits.
Collin tossed his head against the bed, fingers tangled in the comforter once again. “As you wish, sir.”
“I think you would give me anything I wanted right now.”
Collin forced his eyes open. “I would try.”
Mr. Reevesworth drew his fingers from Collin’s ass and gripped his buttocks in both hands, his grip pulling Collin’s cheeks apart.
“You are giving me what I want.” He drove his cock into Collin.
Collin’s eyes rolled back in his head. Waves of sensations rose up his back, and his spine arched, both accepting and freezing as cold heat rolled through his nerves. He was both inside and outside his body. He was lighting up with all the power his form could hold and as weak and insubstantial as an ethereal dream.
Mr. Reevesworth was right above him, one hand on his waist, another braced on the mattress beside Collin’s face. He turned his head and pressed his lips to the man’s wrist. Mr. Reevesworth’s hips rotated, slowly pumping in and out the smallest amount. Collin gave it up, welcoming it, his body gripping and loosening in his most internal places. He was alive and aware in his deepest self. Muscles he did not know he had awakened, clenching down and speaking for him in ways his lips could not.
“Don’t just give, Collin.” Mr. Reevesworth leaned down, brushing his cheek against Collin’s. “That energy you’re offering me, feel mine and draw it in. Let me give to you as you give to me. I’m as open to you as you are to me. Don’t deplete yourself.”
Collin reached out with his thoughts. He was everything Mr. Reevesworth had said, an open dish beneath his dom to take. But there was this great swirling, beautifully controlled storm above him. His eyes flew open. Mr. Reevesworth was just there, inches from his face, gazing down at him.
The energy between them rolled. Hot and cold heat. It billowed down Collin’s spinal column and up into Mr. Reevesworth’s as they moved together. Mr. Reevesworth’s cock drove deep inside of him, connecting him. The invisible power between them rolled upward, flowing out from Mr. Reevesworth’s chest into Collin’s mouth and back down again. Suddenly, Collin was not weak. He was strong. His hands came up, gripping Mr. Reevesworth’s shoulders. He rolled, turning Mr. Reevesworth into his back and sank down, taking Mr. Reevesworth’s full length into his body. He needed to move, he needed to have, and he needed to give. He rose up on his knees and drove himself back down. If only he had something to grip, then he could move with the urgency his body was demanding.
Mr. Reevesworth wrapped an arm around his waist and dragged them both up toward the head of the bed. He put his back against the headboard, a pillow behind him, and pressed one of Collin’s hands to the ironwork.
Collin gripped. This. This was perfect. His hips danced on Mr. Reevesworth’s lap. Sweat ran down his neck and chest. He leaned down, seeking the man’s lips, tasting him, licking the inside of his mouth to taste the essence of him, and that was perfection. The tingling burst of suppressed heat at the base of his spine demanded movement. He tossed his head back, moving with even more need, dragging the man’s cock in and out of his deepest point.
Mr. Reevesworth’s hands were on him, dragging delicious bright points down his back and leaving marks on his ass and thighs. His cock throbbed and burned by turns in the cage. His balls ached, slapping down again and again on the man’s groin. He was a mind lost in sensation, swirling like a dancer between one point and then another. Sweat made everything glide. There was salt on his lips and blood on his tongue.
Arms wrapped around him, taking back control, lifting and forcing him down in long, thorough thrusts. He surrendered, arms loose and wet around Mr. Reevesworth’s shoulder as the man kissed and licked the arch of his neck where it met his shoulder.
“Collin.” His name was a broken, gasping sound against his skin. Warmth flooded his channel. The man was pumping up into him in stuttering thrusts, his arms so tight Collin could not breathe, could not move off the shaft buried deep within him.
