Page 75 of Flagrant Foul
By the time I come back to myself, Sev’s eyes are screwed shut, teeth gritting, fingers clawing the bedsheets on either side of my head, as he pumps his last wave of pleasure into me.
His breathing is labored, and he moans wantonly, eyes rolling back as aftershock after aftershock roll through him.
When he begins to soften, he carefully pulls out of me.
“No,” I sob, clutching weakly at him and trying to keep him inside me. “No. Please. I don’t want it to be over.”
I cry and flail as my body rebels from the shock of housing only one soul again.
“It’s okay, Tee,” Sev says as he rolls onto his side next to me and kisses my temple. “If you don’t want it to be over, it’s not over.”
He parts my legs before I have time to ask any questions. Bending one leg at the knee and pushing it away from him, pulling the other toward him and hooking it over his hips. There’s no tension in my body. No tightness. No pull.
Only give.
“You’re going to be sensitive,” he says, “so try to relax. Don’t clench, okay?”
I nod drunkenly, and he slides his fingers back into me. A lot of them. So many that I see stars again, and start swearing and struggling as sensation attacks me.
“Too much?” he asks, eyes searching mine for signs of discomfort.
“No,” I sob. “It’s the perfect amount."
“I’m gonna keep you like this. Open and ready until my dick gets hard again.” He rakes his lips up the side of my face, not kissing, just teasing. Just being close. “The second it is…I’ll put it back in you, okay? It’s not over yet. It’s only just begun.”
“Thank you,” I sob, aware but not particularly concerned about how pathetic and needy it makesme seem.
Sev rests his head on my chest. It’s heavy and perfect. His hair smells like him, and that’s perfect too.
The only thing that isn't perfect is the whirr of my racing mind. I have questions, and lots of them. "What's happening, Sev? Why now? What's changed?"
I'm not sure I mean to say it aloud, but I do. I'm so stripped back and raw, I don't think I could hide anything from him if I wanted to.
He doesn't move except to reach a little deeper inside me. "Oh, Tee." He sighs like a weight is being lifted from him before speaking again. "I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't be around you and not touch you. I just couldn't. All this time I've been trying not to hurt Nate, but you cried the other night, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I didn't know how much this thing between us was hurting you. I've never been able to stand by and let anyone hurt you. And I can't, I justcan'tbe the one that hurts you. Not ever. Not one more time."
His breathing gradually slows. His fingers still hold me open. I’m so sensitive and so spent and so unspeakably horny that I’m hardly able to contain it. I try to lie still, but I find it impossible. The only thing that seems to make sense or soothe me is to rock my hips and ask Sev repeatedly if he’s hard yet.
After seventeen long lifetimes—which is probably more like five minutes, for people who aren’t currently having their fucked-out asses forcibly held open—I feel the clear, unmistakable pressure of an erection against my hip.
I reach for it, taking the sinewy goodness in my hand and stroking it to full hardness as I plead with him to get back inside me.
I’m so sensitive that it takes everything I have not to scream when he enters me. His thick, bulbous head grazes my gland and sends me back into space.
“I have a full tank,” he says, leaning down to stamp a sweet kiss on my lips. “I’m not going to be able to nut again for a really long time, so you can stop me when you’ve had enough.”
“I won’t have enough,” I gurgle, head lolling back. “Won’t ever…ever have enough.”
“I mean it, Tee. Stop me if you need to.”
“No stopping. Not ever,” I slur. “Fuck me forever.”
39
Sev Delorean
“Doyouwantmeto go to my room?” Teddy asks. “I don’t mind. I know some people need space after sex.”
The answer is complicated and hard to put into words because, usually, I am one of those people. Usually, there’s a strange, unpleasant undercurrent ofhow did I get here?orhow did that happen?after I’ve had sex with someone new. Usually, I feel a little uncomfortable. A little strangled. A little like I’ve done something wrong even though no part of me consciously thinks there’s ever anything wrong about consenting adults having sex.
