Page 20

The lube was cold when it first touched the skin between my cheeks, its thick drops trickling down the middle and over my perineum.

Patrick was more than generous with it, dragging his finger up from my taint to my hole and spreading the lube over me and his fingers.

He slipped into me after a short warning, and it was smoother than silk passing through fingers.

I groaned, and Patrick released a sigh of relief and pleasure as his finger sank into me. “Better?”

“Fuck yes,” I grunted, my voice hoarse as I forced myself to remain relaxed for him.

There was something magical about it. My abs needed to tense in order to force myself open to him, and his finger reaching into my body sparked an instinctive reaction in me—tensing my cock, making my hole tighten, making me push harder to stay relaxed for him, and moving in this enchanted circle.

“Think you can handle more?” Patrick asked, his hand moving back and forth, twisting this way and that.

I’d better , I thought. “Please,” I said, my voice no more than a ripple in the air.

My head lifted off the pillow when Patrick’s middle finger joined the first, stretching me so suddenly that the air hitched in my throat. He didn’t go hard at all, but the shift in size seemed monumental to me.

I dug my fingers into the pillow and looked at the flickering candles, their light bouncing and shifting.

Air flowed through me again, and I relaxed, letting Patrick enter me deeper with two fingers.

It wasn’t at all the lack of wanting on my part; I wanted him inside me so badly I could taste it.

I wanted his fingers, his tongue, his dick, his very soul to enter me.

But my body kept getting spooked. In the back of my mind, a steady rhythm pulsed.

It’ll happen now. You’re gonna fail. It’ll all go to hell.

It’ll happen now. You’re gonna fail. It’ll all be a waste .

“You’re doing so fucking great,” Patrick said, quieting that voice as if he could hear it, too. “Turn off your brain. It’ll be better.”

I wanted to chuckle at that. It made total sense why people preferred sex on drugs and alcohol; they helped you shut the fears off.

Not me, though. I wanted to be sober with him, even if it left me terrified.

I wanted to be aware of every move of his hand, of every breath we took in sync, of every passing moment when his fingers rubbed against my prostate and made me want to melt into the mattress.

Patrick felt it before I did, this new wave of relaxation and openness. I welcomed him in, two fingers and then three, and didn’t worry so much anymore.

“Just like that,” he said from time to time, usually when I was breathing properly, and would twist his hand a little and grunt, ramming his fingers into me with growing ease. “I stretched your little hole so nice, Shane,” he purred. “You’re all slick and ready.”

It wasn’t the thickness of his cock I feared so much anymore, but it wasn’t going to deter me anyway. “Fuck me, Patrick,” I pleaded.

“Turn around,” he told me, sliding his fingers out of my body and rubbing my hole soothingly. “I want to look at your face when I enter you.”

Had I not been so completely hard until now, this would have done it. My very soul tightened in response to his words.

I turned around and stuffed a pillow under my lower back, a trick I’d lifted from porn and tested with myself more than once, certain that it was one of the rare things we could actually learn from it.

Patrick ripped the condom wrapper with his teeth, and it was somehow the sexiest thing he’d done so far.

There was something manly about it, something like the furious devil skating across the rink to let himself be slammed into the boards just so his team could score a point.

He was that person again, both mischievous and wholly on fire.

When he slipped the condom onto his cock, I bit my lip hard and waited. He poured plenty of lube down his length and rubbed it slowly, his cock as hard as it had been when I sucked him.

Patrick positioned himself between my legs and cocked his head this way and that. “Wanna put your feet on my chest?” he asked.

I nodded. It was a good position, intimate and easy to do.

I planted my bare feet on his pecs, pointing to his shoulders, and Patrick covered my left foot with his left hand, reaching down with his right to touch my hard cock.

He stroked me with the generous traces of lube on his fingers, then slipped his hand down to my hole and soothingly circled the rim.

His dick slipped through his hand, aimed perfectly at my hole, and its pressure replaced Patrick’s fingers. It was so overwhelmingly real that I stopped breathing.

My lips parted. My gaze locked onto Patrick’s face. My chest didn’t move. My toes sunk into his flesh, all the while he pushed his cock into my body, breaking the last barrier toward this idea of adulthood that I had carried deep within me for years.

Patrick gazed into my eyes, letting go of his cock and placing both hands on my thighs, close to my hips. He hooked my body that way and waited, letting me inhale before thrusting himself a fraction of an inch deeper. “Good?”

“It’s fucking heaven,” I told him, breathing again with relief as Patrick swayed his hips back and thrust them forward.

A layer of sweat glistened on Patrick’s tanned skin.

His abs flexed hard, a gorgeous view between my legs, and he jerked himself forward, ramming into me slightly harder.

Each time, the thrust was a little more powerful than the last. Or it appeared to me that way.

He was deeper, I knew that, and it felt almost like trying to inhale more air than my lungs could hold, except that I kept finding that I very much could if only I did it the right way.

Because it felt like breath. It felt like oxygen, like the source of life, like the essence of existence. It freed me just the same as it bound me. It freed me from the anticipation and anxiety, and it bound me to him. I didn’t go into this wanting that to happen, but I had known it might.

I looked at his face, at his body, into his blazing blue eyes as he fucked me, and I knew I was his. Utterly, completely, indestructibly his.

For better or worse.

“Fuck me harder,” I begged, probably because I had heard it before, not because I was confident I could take it.

But it didn’t hurt. Not after that first brief flash of white heat that consumed your body and made you think you could never go through with it.

Not when he was so careful—so very careful—about your needs and your limits.

Did men like this even exist? If so, they were as rare as unicorns. I struggled to believe one was with me, here, inside me. I struggled to believe any of this was real until the moment Patrick’s hips quickened their pace and he leaned deep in, pressing his lips hard against mine.

He fucked me like I only could have dreamed. There were few words that could come close to capturing what these moments were.

My feet slipped off his chest, and my legs coiled around his waist, my arms twisting around his shoulders and holding him close. He buried his tongue in my mouth, kissing me, filling me with his heated breaths, his saliva, and his body.

Each thrust of his hips brought me closer to Heaven of sorts, or Hell if you wanted to be literal about it.

But I didn’t care which one it was. Sin or virtue, joy or damnation, it was all the same to me so long as I could hold on to him, so long as I could feel him deep inside me, impaling me and owning me.

I had no doubt about who I belonged to. This, in a way, was a ritual, a transfer of power and a surrender.

You are the only god I believe in , I thought. And I believe in you with all I have. And all I have is all I give you .

My hands found Patrick’s. My fingers feathered up his arm until I reached his biceps, holding them in a merciless grip, and his fingers went to my throat. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t even domination. It was only a level of intimacy that could be born out of a whole lot of trust.

I bared my neck for him a little more, digging my fingers into his arms while he tightened his hands around my throat.

He kissed me, sweat dripping from his brow and into my face, his cock sliding into me just the way I needed.

The tip pressed hard against my prostate over and over again.

And Patrick’s years of fooling around made him such an idea lover that it never crossed my mind to hold his past against him.

I adored the things he knew. And he knew when to speed up and when to slow down.

He knew, without me telling him, that he was pushing me to my limit, and he didn’t try to push himself any deeper than that.

Instead, he hurried up, filling my body with sensations I could hardly process, then slowing all the way down, making me focus on this brilliant, breathtaking feeling of his dick reaching for my prostate, rubbing against it, pressing it, pressuring it until the sensation was such that I felt like an overflowing dam. I felt like I was about to burst.

“Fuck,” I panted. “Just like that. Please. Just…a little more.” And he did exactly that. For all the flashiness in the rink and fancy moves, Patrick had nothing to prove to anyone here. He didn’t need to go above and beyond. He just did what made me feel the best.

My face rippled with pain and pleasure as he brought me close to the climax, keeping me there for a few heartbeats longer before the tension simply snapped.

It buzzed through me like a bare wire, surging through my whole body with a single end in mind.

Every part of me twisted and coiled, lit up as if I were made of fire.

My dick throbber harder still. My hole clenched so hard and fast that I couldn’t control it, and I could see its effect on Patrick’s beautiful face.

The heat of my cum sprayed my stomach and chest just as I reached between us to hold my cock. It spurted continuously after hours and days of teasing and running away, of being on the edge even when I wasn’t hard and horny.

I came messily, almost embarrassingly so, and the world spun around me while I was afloat, in an entirely different realm.

Patrick’s eyebrows contorted harder the longer I failed to make my hole relax. Did it hurt? Did he enjoy it? His eyes rolled upward, and he cried for God, telling me he was coming.

His throbbing dick buried deep into me sent ripples of tingles and shivers through the rest of my body. He came hard, shuddering all over, sweaty and glorious, and smiling like he didn’t have a regret in the world.

I had never seen someone smile while coming. Not in a million videos. I had never seen someone so genuinely joyful in that moment of barest intimacy.

His arms trembled. His legs shook. His abs rippled restlessly with electric tension. And as he pulled his dick out and slipped the condom off—his dripping cum left a beautiful trail along my left thigh—he kept the smile on.

He tossed the condom onto a towel at the edge of the bed and crashed next to me, pulling me tight against his sweaty body.

There wasn’t an inkling, not even a hint, that he might have changed his mind after coming.

Whatever that clarity they spoke of was, it had no room here.

I was as far from clearheaded as I had ever been.

Not horny anymore, but drunk on lust and glory we had just shared.

He held me, his face buried into the crook of my neck. I could feel his smile without having to look.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

“Funny? Nothing,” he said. “I’m just…fuck, I just did it with a guy.”

I tensed a little. Clarity? Is that you?

But Patrick lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “And not just any guy. The best guy. You.”

His words sparked in me something that felt oddly similar to what it felt like when he put his tongue against my hole. New and bold and beautiful.

“How do you feel after…the first time?” he asked.

“I…” I’m alright. I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek. Did I want to be cool at the expense of being honest? No. Not with Patrick. “I’ve never felt this good in my life, Patrick.”

He exhaled with such relief that I sent a thankful prayer to any god listening for making me choose honesty.

He leaned in, slamming his lips against mine like we were at the peak of passion and kissing me for a long while.

When he pulled back, he was still smiling.

“I was afraid I’d freak out. Or hurt you.

Or that you’d want it the other way around, and I’d freak out again. Fuck, this was lucky.”

I nodded. Doing it the other way around was an interesting idea but not one I would have leaped on. “Lucky.”

He kissed me again, softly, then hopped out of the bed. He dragged me with him, still half-hard and covered in cum. “Let’s shower together. I wanna see you covered in foam.”

I barked out a laugh. Hadn’t we just had sex? If he was insatiable, I was twice as lucky as I’d thought.

It didn’t take asking me twice to get me to follow.