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“I’m going to come. Anders, please. I need,” he babbles.

“Ask for my cock, Boy,” I snarl, lifting up until I’m sitting on my knees, one hand gripping the base of my dick.

“Please, please, please. Fuck me. I need you inside of me. Please.”

If either of us was in a little more control, I’d probably force him to beg me to fuck his ass and pump him full of my cum. If we weren’t this desperate, I might edge him with my mouth, bringing him to the brink only to refuse to let him finish until I was buried deep inside of him. But that’s not what either of us needs right now.

Guiding myself into his ass, I lift his legs, then slowly inch inside of him, fighting the urge to slam deep. I search for self-control, reminding myself that this is only his second time and that we have the rest of our lives to be crazy, rough, and intense.

The moment I bottom out, he groans animalistically, and streams of cum burst from the head of his dick. Chuckling, I pull back, then push forward, grabbing his cock and working him through his orgasm while I rail his ass.

Starting gently, I build up momentum once I’m sure I’m not hurting him, pumping into him steadily until he begs for more. Harder, faster, deeper.

“Turn over, on your knees and elbows,” I demand, pulling my dick out of him.

His eyes flash open, and his accusing glare lands on me.

“Knees and elbows,” I order again, grabbing his waist and helping him to move.

Once he’s in position, I guide my dick back into his ass, groaning when I bottom out, my groin resting against his butt.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I praise, able to fuck him harder in this position as I grip his hips and work him up and down my dick, watching his hole stretch wide around my cock as I slide into him.

He comes twice more, the guttural sound reverberating around the room as he soaks his sheets with the evidence of his need. I love it. I want him dirty and messy and desperate. And I want to make him feel this way for the rest of our lives.

“Fuck me,” he moans, long and low, as he comes once again and I follow him over the edge, ramming my cock into his ass seconds before I implode and my hips jerk as I fill him with my cum.

Sagging, I brace my weight on my hands, making sure that I don’t crush him, as I press a kiss against his slender back. “I love you,” I say on a ragged exhale.

He doesn’t say it back, and I don’t expect him to, but I hear his soft hum of pleasure and I hope it’s because he hears me, even if he doesn’t believe me yet.

“I’m sorry, Kitten, but we need to get cleaned up, because I want to cook you breakfast before I have to go back to work.”

“Work,” he says slowly as I slide my cock out of him, groaning at the sight of his gaped, empty hole.

Unable to resist, I push two fingers into him, feeling my cum coating his passage.

“Oh my,” he whimpers, pushing back onto my fingers.

“Needy,” I say more to myself than him as I reluctantly slip my fingers out of him.

“It feels so empty,” he rasps.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. If I could, I’d stay with you. I’d sit you on my cock and keep you stretched and full while we watch TV.”

“What?” he blurts, turning to face me, his mouth hanging open.

Smiling, I laugh softly at his shocked expression. “I think you’d like keeping my cock warm in your ass.”

“That’s a thing?” he squeaks.

Chuckling, I nod. “Yes, Kitten, that’s a thing.” Shuffling off the bed, I hold out my hand to him, curling my fingers around his the moment he places his palm against mine. Leading him into the bathroom, I reach into the tub and turn the shower on.

“How’s your head?” I ask.

“My head?”

“Did I fuck the hangover out of you?” I ask on a laugh.