Page 67 of Antagonist

The old bed rattles against the wall as he slams into me again and again. It’s a crescendo of pain and pleasure. Our bodies are sweaty and coiled like tight springs, and I’m scared of that moment when we let go because who’s going to be there to catch us when we both fall?

“Oh fuck, right there. Right there,” I shout.

Harrison groans near my ear. “So close.”

I clench my ass tight, unsure if there’s much point when it’s already so stretched out. But it seems to work on Harrison because he’s cursing like a sailor and fucking into me so hard and fast I might pass out.

My balls draw tight as my orgasm is right there under the surface.

“Kiss me, Harrison.”

Our mingled breaths, the taste of his mouth, my cock trapped between us, and my thoughts of how perfect this moment is all come at me. I groan my orgasm into Harrison’s mouth, and he swallows it.

Warmth spreads over my stomach, and a second later, Harrison jerks and pushes farther into me before stilling.

“Fletch—fuck!”

We don’t move for the longest time. Harrison’s breathing is labored, and he’s still gripping my hands tight. All I can do is enjoy this feeling while it lasts.

For a split second, I fear Harrison’s reaction now that it’s all over, but he starts kissing me again. Slow, soft kisses. Our eyes meet, and I can see something has shifted between us.

He releases my hands to hold the condom as he pulls out of me slowly.

I know I’m going to feel tonight in every inch of my body in the morning. When he gets up from the bed, I point to where the bathroom is while trying to remain still so my cum doesn’t spill onto the bed.

He comes back with a wet cloth and cleans me until he’s satisfied it’s all gone and then returns the washcloth to the bathroom.

I watch him as he comfortably walks around naked. It’s as if he’s been here all his life.

He doesn’t put his underwear on before coming back to bed. I settle against his side and sigh when he puts his arms around me so I end up glued against him head to toe.

“That shouldn’t have been that good,” he says. His still sweat-slick skin glistens in the light of the fireplace. It’s warm in the room, but little goosebumps appear on his skin, and I don’t know why, but I find it adorable.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t even like you.”

I look at him and see the teasing in his eyes.

“That hurts, Harry.”

“There you go with the names.”

“You like it. Confess it,” I say, pressing my fingers against his sides.

“I hate it.”

“Stop fighting it, sugar puff.”

He snorts.

“I like it when you let me see you. You come alive every time I touch you. When we first met, I thought you might be submissive.”

“Oh yeah?”

I draw circles over his chest. “You probably didn’t notice, but you melted into my touch like someone starving for affection. It was so strong that I felt it in my core.”

“Do you still think I’m a submissive?”