Page 78 of Fruit
I put a little more lube on my fingers and fuck him with them slowly, getting used to the feeling of having something inside him. I bend them slightly, searching gently, and know when I’ve hit my target when he jolts on the bed.
“There?” I ask unnecessarily.
“Yeah. Fuck.”
I find the bundle of nerves again and rub my fingers against it, aiming for it as I thrust my digits in and out. Sebastián breathes loudly, his body moving, squirming on the bed. The chains are rattling incessantly now. I watch him fall apart on my sheets.
Fuck, he’s beautiful.
“Do you think you can take three?” I ask half-rhetorically, already slipping out of him. He lets out a groan and watches me through his eyelashes as I pour lube on three of my fingers.
I stroke his thigh softly as I press slightly against his entrance before pushing them in. He groans again, his brow furrowed, but he doesn’t tell me to stop. I go slow, and he takes them so well for me. I wrap my hand around his dick and jerk him in the same honeyed pace, building up the fire inside him again, and then twist my fingers and rub at his prostate.
He lets out a long, drawn-out moan. I leave my grip on his cock loose even as my fingers turn more relentless. They pick up the pace, rubbing at the spot inside him. I watch my fingers appear and disappear into him, and I slow them down, parting my fingers slightly. His hole stretches around me, shiny with lube. Fuck, he looks good.
“Fuck,fuck,” he cries out.
I thrust into him harshly again and again and again until he’s bucking his hips to meet my fingers, to get even more. My fingers are feather-light on his cock, tracing the head, the smooth shaft.
“Please. Please, please,” he pants. I look up at his face. I’ve never seen him like this before, so desperate, so open in his pleasure.
“Do you want to come on my fingers?”
“Yes. Fuck, Iva, please,” he groans.
I’d taken one of my toys out too, but I suddenly want him to come from this. From me inside him, from my hand around his cock.
I pour more lube on both my hands and then thrust my fingers in and out of him in a steady rhythm, aiming at his prostate. I wrap my other, now-slick hand firmly around his cock and jerk him off in a tight and wet pace. He thrashes on the bed, biceps bulging as he pulls on his bonds. It’s a wonder the handcuffs haven’t snapped.
The tendons on his neck stand out as he pushes his shoulders against the bed. I can see the pleasure in him rising, burning him up like it has done me. His body is trembling with it, his thighs quaking convulsively. His eyes are shut tight against the light of it.
Suddenly, he arches his back and comes. I keep thrusting my fingers, my other hand still moving on his cock, but I avoid the sensitive head after a few swipes as he hurtles over the edge.
I watch him fall apart. The noises he’s making—I would draw them if I knew how. They’re sweeter than the mango lingering on my tongue. Streaks of come paint his chest, up to his chin, his dick pulsing in my hand until he starts moaning with overstimulation and I let him go, placing him gently on his thigh. I slip my fingers out of his red and puffy hole, and he shivers at that too.
I move from between his legs, which are sprawled open and bent at the knee. I want to touch his face, but my hands are slick with lube, so I settle for a kiss.
“I’m going to wash my hands, okay? I’ll be right back and get you out of the handcuffs.”
Sebastián nods absently, but he seems completely out of it. I race to the bathroom, washing and drying my hands quickly, grabbing a cloth and wetting it before returning. I don’t want to leave him for a second more than necessary.
To my relief, he’s in much the same state when I return. I cup one of his cheeks in my hand, and he turns towards it blindly. I stroke the skin over his cheekbone, under his eye. He looks so vulnerable. Trusting. It spears me through.
I release him from the handcuffs, inspecting his wrists. The skin is a little darker from all the pulling he did, and I don’t have enough experience to know if he’ll bruise, but he doesn’t wince when I brush my thumb there. I lower his arms carefully, and this time he does make a little sound at relieving his shoulders from their strained position.
I wipe his chest and entrance clean and pat him dry. He squirms a little, but his eyes don’t even open. He seems completely sated, transported somewhere else.
It’s not late enough to go to sleep, but it’s a fine hour for a nap. I put his socks and briefs on and then settle beside him, draping a blanket over us. He turns towards me immediately, and I throw a leg over him, lying just far away enough so I can look at his face, trailing my fingers across it.
I watch as he comes to, slowly. His eyebrows twitch as his eyelashes flutter awake. He looks a little disoriented for a moment before focusing on me. I smile.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hey.”
“You good?” I can’t help but ask, even though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
He snorts softly. “Yeah. I’m good.”
We look at each other for a moment before he pulls me close.
I can feel the strength and the soft of him, breathing against me, as warm as my own skin.
