Page 259 of The Fall
His tongue flicks over a nipple. He hums against me, vibration thrumming through tissue and nerve, and then he’s sucking, pulling my sensitive nub between his teeth until thesharp edge of pain bleeds into pleasure. My fingers twist into his hair as I gasp.
He takes his time, though, dragging his lips down my stomach, teeth grazing the cut of my hip. His breath ghosts over the trail of precome that’s leaked onto my belly.
“Blair,” I gasp. My thighs tremble as he nudges them apart and settles between them, then holds me in place as his mouth closes around the head of my cock.
The first touch of his lips sends me arching off the bed. He keeps his tongue flat against the underside, and the tight seal of his mouth sliding down nearly makes me scream. My head falls back against the pillow. “Fuck.”
He sucks me slowly, cheeks hollowing on the upstroke, his tongue hot and flat and broad. His suction builds until black spots dance in my vision. My hands tighten in his hair, holding on as I lose hold of everything except the heat of his mouth, the drag of his lips, the way he groans around me like he’s savoring every taste.
“Goddamn, Blair,” I pant.
His eyes flick up to meet mine, and the sight of him—lips stretched around me, cheeks hollowed—nearly breaks me.
He pulls back to tease the underside with his tongue, circling my crown until my legs shake. The tip of his tongue flicks against the base of my head while his hand works what his mouth can’t reach. I’m unraveling, strung tight and trembling, every swipe of his tongue driving me closer to breaking.
I can’t look away from him, from the way he’s worshipping me. “Please,” I gasp.
A string of saliva connects his bottom lip to my shaft when he pulls back to grab our lube from the nightstand, and the faint click of the cap is another pin dropping in the quiet room.
His hand moves between my thighs, slick fingers moving past my balls and against my taint, massaging there until mycock leaks a steady stream. His first touch against my hole is feather-light, teasing and circling my rim until I relax.
He slides in slowly, breaching me with a stretch that burns enough to make my toes curl into the sheets. He is slow invasion that melts me.
He crooks his finger, and when he finds what he’s looking for, I groan and sink deeper into the pillows. My cock throbs, releasing another bead of precome that Blair laps up with his tongue. Slowly, the burn fades as he works me open, finger pumping in steady strokes that make obscene wet sounds in the quiet room.
My head tips back, throat exposed as I pant. A second finger joins the first, and the fuller stretch has my hips rocking against his hand. I am dripping, lube and sweat making everything slick and filthy. My cock leaks against my stomach, untouched and aching.
“Fuck, Blair.” My eyes drag back to his face. His jaw is tight, lips parted enough to show how he’s holding himself together while he watches me come apart. His fingers curl again, dragging against my prostate; I won’t last much longer. I’m a mess of gasps and half-formed pleas, and I lose hold of the next minute.
“You are everything,” he breathes. “You’re the part of me I didn’t know was missing.”
A shudder runs through him and into me. His hands shake where they grip my thighs, spreading me wider. He shifts forward, brings his cock to rest against my hole, and his eyes search mine, asking.
Yes. Yes. Always yes. This is what drowning feels like when you want to go under. This is what burning feels like when you’ve been cold your whole life.
His breath mixes with mine, warm and damp between our open mouths. Words hover unspoken on my tongue as blood thunders in my ears.
The blunt head of his cock kisses my rim, and I sigh against his lips. He rocks forward, only enough pressure to make my hole clench. When he pushes past that first ring of muscle, the perfect stretch blooms through me. He’s thick enough that every millimeter feels like it’s rearranging my insides. My body yields to him by degrees. Each shallow thrust opens me wider, his cock disappearing into me so very, very slowly.
When his hips finally meet my ass, when I’m stretched around the full length of him, we both stop breathing. His forehead drops to mine, eyes squeezed shut, and his cock throbs inside me, hot and hard and mine. The fullness consumes everything else. His chest presses to mine, our hearts beating the same rhythm.
His lips part on a soundless exhale that ghosts across my mouth. If we stay perfectly still, if we don’t move or breathe or blink, maybe the universe will forget to tear us apart again.
He shifts minutely inside me—a subtle flex—and I feel it everywhere at once, lightning in my nerves, fire in my blood. If he moves even an inch more I’ll fall apart for him.
Each gasping inhale we take threatens to break this fragile stasis, and the room holds its breath with us. Even the shadows seem frozen, caught between one heartbeat and the next. Every tiny adjustment sends ripples through me. This moment stretches like honey, thick and golden and impossibly sweet.
Blair’s lips brush mine. His free hand slides down my side, fingertips mapping me until his palm settles against my hip. His hips rock forward, just barely.
A broken sound escapes me. Blair swallows it, kissing me deep and slow as he begins to move. He withdraws until only hishead catches on my rim, then sinks back in one long, devastating stroke.
The slow drag of him inside me ignites a molten river, like he’s pouring himself into me, filling every empty space I have.
His hand takes mine, threads our fingers together, and lifts both above my head, holding me to the mattress. Everywhere is open to him; everywhere is claimed by him. Like this, pinned beneath him, I feel every pulse of his cock like a second heartbeat within me, feel every tremor in his muscles as if they are my own. He is my beginning, my middle, my forever. There’s only this, only us.
His forehead rests against mine again, and his eyes, those endless blue depths, hold mine for a moment before fluttering shut.
He’s slow at first, agonizing slides in and out that leave me gasping. The flare of friction as his cock drags over my prostate rips a helpless cry from me. His thumb strokes circles against the back of my hand where our fingers are laced tight, anchoring me as he sinks back in with one smooth stroke that stretches me wide. He groans as I squeeze around him, so deep now I swear I can feel the shape of him inside me.
