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“I’ll stop,” I said, trying to move.

He held me in place.

“It’s supposed to be like this. Takes a little time to adjust.”

“Have you…”

What was it with me and my inability to ask questions?

“No. Not what…my ex-wife was into. I haven’t. But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t…researched. I have.”

“Me too.”

Honesty. It was what made us tick. Made this work.

“Just go slow. Really slow.”

I pulled out and reached for the lube, then pulled back and re-slathered myself, but I didn’t try again. Not yet. I took a minute to explore that sweet, beautiful hole with my fingers.

A bit of hair. I didn’t mind. His cock was gorgeous. I wanted to take it into my mouth, but I was human, and my gymnastics didn’t stretch that far.

Instead, I circled his hole with my lube-covered finger, then slowly slipped it inside, coating whatever I could reach. More lube. Two fingers as his neck stretched back.

Good.

We could do this.

“You ready?” It sounded…like something a man like me wouldn’t say. But then I pushed, and he let me in, a little further than last time.

Small sounds came from his mouth. I kissed them away, took them from him as I repositioned myself so I could hold his head in my hands. My elbows were screaming from the weight of holding myself up so I didn’t crush him beneath me, his leg still over my shoulder.

What was this? I had no idea, but whatever it was…

It was us. Pure and simple.

“This,” he huffed out, his lips against my skin. “Is…good.”

“Good.” I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“I like…what we do.” A small moan in the middle as I slid further inside him, him seemingly swallowing me up.

It was overwhelming. I was in a different place, my thoughts all muddled as the clouds swirled around in my head.

Him. Me. Feelings. The way my hips seemed to move by themselves, a small slide out, and back in again.

I didn’t remember this. Couldn’t for the life of me put myself back in my memories of ever having felt like this, yet it was as simple as breathing. Natural and easy.

So connected. So part of someone else.

“More,” he huffed out. “Just do it, Stewart…”

“Love you,” I said into his neck. “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” There was a smile in his words, and they did mean something. They meant everything. Maybe he didn’t tell me all the time. Maybe it wasn’t who we were, but I felt it. I felt his fingernails on my back. How his hands travelled down and tried to make my hips move. How he held me in place as I slammed into him, now up on my arms, trying to find the rhythm my body craved. My mouth hanging slack as I just…

I did this. I…fucked him. Words I never liked using were now seemingly a perfectly acceptable part of my vocabulary. I fucked right into him, revelling in the sounds and smells as my arousal slowly rose through my body. My cheeks flamed, my chest was far too warm, and his hands were seemingly everywhere. A pinch of my nipple. A tug on my chest hair. His mouth spilling words that I again failed to take in. I was just…fucking. In and out. My body doing this all by itself, like I was only along for the ride. It was him and me, and I no longer knew where I was.

A complete haze of pleasure, an orgasm creeping up on me that was neither surprising nor violent. Just slow and almost painful as I emptied myself inside of him, vocalised my joy as my body released, roars and breaths that I spilled over him, lying there beneath me.