Page 62 of C is for Comfort

“Much.”

“Do you want to sleep now?”

I hum as though debating the question. “Fuck first, sleep later?” I spread my legs to show him how serious I am about having him inside me.

Spence leans down to kiss me and then gets off the bed. I close my eyes, listening to the sound of running water. I assume he’s washing the oil off his hands. Oil and condoms are a bad combination.

“Roll onto your back,” he says when he comes back.

I frown but don’t complain as I obey him.

“I want to look into your eyes,” he explains as he gently spreads my legs and kneels between them.

He squeezes lube over his fingers and rubs it over my arsehole.

“That feels nice,” I whisper. “Having your fingers inside me is even better, Daddy.”

“Like this?” he asks, pushing one finger into me.

“Ah! Yes, just like that, Daddy.”

I struggle to keep my eyes open, so I can look into his as he plays with my arse and tickles my prostate, first with one finger, then with two. I’m already so relaxed my body accepts the combined girth of his two fingers with ease.

“Fuck me, Daddy, please?”

“Needy boy.”

“Yes.” I’m not going to apologise for it. “I want you inside me so badly.”

He reaches for the condom he put on the bed and rolls it onto his already hard cock. Apparently, having his fingers up my arse is as much of a turn-on for him as it is for me. He lifts my legs and moves closer so his thighs are under mine. Then he takes my hips and pulls me up into a sitting position on his lap before helping me ease down onto his cock. He puts one hand on my lower back, the other on my arse and, staring into my eyes, begins to roll his hips.

“Oh, Daddy,” I whimper. “That’s so good.”

He takes it slow and gentle. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and we kiss endlessly as he keeps… fucking me? No. We’re not fucking. He’s making love to me. My breath whooshes out of my lungs, leaving me momentarily gasping.

“Sweet boy?”

“I’m good.” I press my forehead against his shoulder and move my hips in time with his, meeting each thrust with one of my own so he can push deeper inside me.

He’s making love to me, and I’m making love to him. I have no clue what it means, but it feels a million miles away from the quick fucks we’ve had all week. His fingers move back and forth over my skin, sending little sparks zipping to every part of my body.

“Daddy,” I gasp.

I press my feet against the bed as my need to orgasm hovers near. They give me more leverage, allowing me to ride him harder, but not faster. Oh god, I love how slow our lovemaking is. I adore how close I feel to him right now. His heart thuds against me, his skin, now sweaty, slides against mine. His chest hairs, thicker than my own, tickle my skin. He kisses my throat, and I tip my head back and groan. My balls draw up tight. I am consumed by every part of him. The way he feels inside me and around me, the scent of his sweat, and the melody of his pants and grunts. I groan desperately as my orgasm claims me. My cock jerks, coating us both in warm, sticky cum. He thrusts into me a little faster, his breaths hot on my shoulder until his body trembles and his cock pulses inside me.

We rest our heads on each other’s shoulders, caressing one another as we catch our breath. I like it when he stays inside me, but with my need to fuck and run, he hasn’t done it since last weekend. I hold him tight, wordlessly telling him that’s what I need right now. He makes no attempt to move or to shoo me off his lap or cock.

“Are you good, sweet boy?” he asks at length.

“Yes.” I tilt my face so I can see his. “Are you, Daddy?”

“More than.”

He kisses my shoulder.

“I’m kind of tired, though,” I admit.

“A massage and sex will do that to you.”