Page 27 of Bite Me

“Fuck, Eric,” I bit out, though I loved it. Loved the way he handled me, how he drew out every reaction like he was playing some complicated instrument. Most guys would be in a hurry to get to the main event, including me. Eric lived for the buildup.

“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Gonna watch you blow a load all over this mirror.”

Eric’s cock pushed hard against my ass, and he hummed a quiet, pleased sound when I shuddered.

Yeah, we were definitely on the scenic route.

12

ERIC

I’d memorized Nate without meaning to. The sound of his laughter, the bite of his curses, the rare moments when his guard cracked and that swagger slipped enough for me to see what was real. The guy who’d let me shove his pants down to mid-thigh in a frat-house storage room while chaos raged below and rub his dick over a mirror older than he was before I fucked us both senseless. And it wasn’t just the sex. Nate lived rent-free in my head, mentally edging me every damn day.

I wanted to spread his cheeks wide and bury myself inside him. I made him wait, though, because that was what got us both off. The game, the power struggle, the chase.

He held all the power; I just got to touch it.

My jacket was still on, sleeves riding up, and I worked one-handed, digging a few packets of lube from my inside coat pocket. It paid to always be prepared, especially with Nate, who’d fuck on a moving subway if I gave him the nod. I wrestled my coat off, dragged my shirt over my head, and then ripped open the lube. I squeezed out a fat ribbon of the stuff and coated my cock, watching him watch me in the reflection. I gave myself a couple of greased-up strokes, then ran my soaked fingersbetween his cheeks to where the base of the plug fit snug against his hole.

Nate let out a sigh of relief that made me smirk, thinking he knew what was next. Not so fast, frat boy.

I tugged the plug with just enough pressure that Nate gritted his teeth and grunted, waiting for that familiar stretch, but I didn’t pull it out. I grabbed the remote instead, button jammed under the lining of my pants, and I thumbed it on. Lowest setting first, just to mess with him. Nate almost head-butted the mirror as the vibrations kicked in. His head drooped forward, a shattered laugh tearing from his throat. “You motherfucker.”

“Depends on who you ask,” I quipped. Before he could roll his eyes or get too mouthy, I pressed forward, slotting my cock between his thighs. I let the flex of his ass guide my pace between them. He was burning up, thighs smeared in lube, and when I notched my hips just right I dragged the entire length of my dick along his taint and over his balls, grinding into him. Every pass nudged the vibrating plug against his sweet spot.

Nate’s thighs snapped tight around me as I did it again, slipping through the sucking heat the way I knew he loved. He shuddered so hard the mirror glass rattled, and I could almost taste the pleasure ricocheting through him.

The pressure of his thighs cinching my shaft was unreal. I slid through again and splayed a hand low on his back just to feel him straining for whatever I’d give him.

The way Nate turned into a fucking symphony of sweat, muscle, and desperation alone could’ve gotten me off. He was always fighting for leverage, like if he tried hard enough he could take control. It was just that he didn’t want to. That was the fucking point, though. That was what got me really hot.

I upped the setting on the plug. One click, two, three, and the hum went right through him. Nate fucking lost it. He clawed atthe mirror and let out a moan, hips jerking so hard I had to slam my hand into his side to hold him steady.

He rutted his cock against the cold mirror, and then fucked back on me, chasing sensation like he’d die if he didn’t get it.

I gathered momentum, getting reckless while the plug beat a rhythm inside him that grew more insistent with every passing second. Nate bucked, the mirror fogging where his breath hit.

“Nate,” I gritted out as I clamped down on his hip. He whimpered at the sound of his name, fisting a hand against the glass so hard I worried it’d crack. The lines of his body were so taut I thought he might actually snap if I didn’t give him what he wanted. “Don’t you dare come yet.”

If I were the type to play nice, I’d have softened it, maybe leaned in and breathed it against his ear, tongued out the sweat collecting in the hollow beneath his collarbone, let him feel me smile against his neck. But I wanted him like this, shaking and stretched to the edge, desperate for the next command.

His cock made an unholy mess of the glass, strings of lube and pre-cum streaking down in slow drips. Every time I thrust against him, he dragged more of it across the surface, smearing foggy fingerprints and filthy evidence of exactly what I was doing to him.

“Eric.” I knew that tone. It was a myriad of things all at once. Urgency, need, panic, surrender, but mostly restless, buckling want. It never failed to send me to a different stratosphere of arousal. I could ride the edge of my orgasm for a solid half hour, no problem, but when his voice reached that timbre, I was suddenly right there, staring into the abyss. “Please.”

There was my ruin in one syllable.

I yanked the plug free with just enough twist to make his whole body light up from the inside out. Nate choked out a ragged sound, and there was a second where he tried to steady himself, before he gave up and sank forward. Then I drove in.No hesitation, no warning, I just slammed forward, balls-deep into pure fire. The grip of his ass was impossible, vise-tight, and electric. It zipped straight up my spine and cracked through my body like lightning to a tree. I could split down the middle at any moment.

I felt the exact second Nate lost it. He clamped down on me with a full-body shake and then splattered the mirror with thick ropes of cum. The raw cry he issued, along with the unforgiving squeeze of his hole, ripped the orgasm straight from my core.

I buried myself to the root and unloaded. I fucked him through it, riding every violent twitch as I fell apart. His cries echoed around us while we watched ourselves come undone and then some.

When the thrash of climax receded, it left a mellow satiety behind. I slumped against Nate’s back. We were both wrecked, caught in the weightless afterglow, suspended and stupid.

Nate moved first, a tiny tilt of his hips back that sought more friction even though he was spent. The motion wrung another pulse from my cock that made me shudder and roll my shoulders. Gradually, I became aware of the thud of music still coming up from below, that there was still life happening around us.

Sucking in a breath, I caught Nate’s hips and pulled him up straight. He wobbled on his feet, still panting. There was a mess everywhere. It was on my cock and the floor, all over his thighs and clouding the mirror in front of us, an abstract painting depicting every dirty thing we’d just done.