Page 18

What isn’t enough are the touches. The kisses. The way their hands wander, always turning into something bolder—stroking each other, tasting, giving pleasure in ways that invariably leave them wanting more.

But curiosity always has a way of winning out.

It peaks one evening after everyone else has gone home to family and dinner and warmth.

Chris holds out his hand across Dennis’s desk, and for once, Dennis doesn't protest about unfinished work.

Instead, he takes it. Lets Chris lead him to the Lexus, to his apartment, to his bed.

"Have you ever wondered?" Dennis asks from his perch on Chris's lap, shirt half-unbuttoned and slipping off one shoulder.

He rolls his hips, feeling Chris hard against him through the thin barrier of their underwear. A low hum escapes him—drawn-out and involuntary—pleasure simmering in the way his body now recognizes arousal. Anticipates its crest. Demands the satisfaction it’s grown used to.

"How it might feel?"

"How what might feel?"

Chris's hands slide up Dennis’s back, steady and warm, his only contribution to their thickening desire the shallow rocking of his hips to meet the press of Dennis’s movements—hips which become more insistent with each grind.

It’s all Chris can manage in his sitting position. He more than makes up for it, though, running his hand up to the back of Dennis’s neck to pull him down, their tongues sliding against each other in a kiss that leaves no space for thought. His other hand plays with Dennis’s nipples under his shirt.

Chris swallows every croon that escapes Dennis’s lips, his own curving into a soft, knowing smile like he’s savoring each sound, keeping them coming and hoarding them all for himself.

"How going all the way might feel."

There’s a pause.

"Never with another man," Chris says finally. His voice goes quiet when he admits, "Never been with a man before you. But I think about it." His teeth graze Dennis’s neck, sucking harder as his cock swells, reacting to the confession. "Think about doing it with you—a lot ."

The revelation does something to Dennis’s insides. He pushes Chris flat on his back, settling his weight more firmly across Chris's hips in a straddle.

"Are you going to have your way with me, princess?” Chris drawls lazily, tone a bit too smug. “Oh nooo— augh! " Chris's laugh lodges in his throat, knees and upper back jolting up off the mattress when Dennis grinds down harder. "Fuck—okay, okay ! I take it back—I’m sorry! Don't tease—!"

His hands roam up Dennis’s sides, across his chest, then down to where Dennis’s cock strains against his underwear.

When Chris's fingers dip beneath the waistband and wrap around him, Dennis gasps, even though he knew it was coming.

"Not when you've put that idea in my head," Chris pants. "Gonna make me lose my mind."

Chris's thumb traces the underside of his shaft—stroking it, massaging it—making Dennis’s exhales shaky.

Dennis tries not to whine as he shifts his hips, trying to guide Chris's hand higher, chasing that spot just under the head that makes his toes curl.

"Not teasing." Dennis rocks down again, feeling Chris's cock twitch against his ass through the last of their clothes. "Unless you're all talk?"

Chris's fingers dig into Dennis’s thighs, hard enough to leave marks. When Dennis looks down, Chris is staring up at him, bottom lip snagged between his teeth.

"Lube's in the bedside drawer," Chis says, voice rough. "Unless you're all talk?"

Dennis reaches over, Chris's hand warm yet firm on the back of his thigh like he's making sure Dennis isn't just some kind of wet fever dream that’ll poof up into smoke. He fumbles until he finds the bottle, cold in his palm.

"Condoms too," Chris adds.

"That's very presumptuous of you, Chris?" Dennis says lightly.

"Prepared," Chris corrects, grunting with an oof , chest caving in when the lube bottle lands on his sternum. But the promise of what's coming seems to make him forget the pain. "Been ready for this longer than I should admit, princess."

Chris props himself up on his elbows, pushing off the mattress to sit up. Then he guides Dennis to twist around in his lap.

"Let's get these off you," he murmurs, fingers hooking in Dennis’s waistband.

There's rustling as they both shimmy out of their underwear, and Dennis can't help but peek behind him.

Chris's cock stands eager and thick, making Dennis’s stomach flip with equal parts want and worry.

How is something that size supposed to fit anywhere?

When Dennis is kneeling and his back meets Chris's chest, they both inhale at the contact—skin sticky in the summer heat.

The click of the bottle echoes in the quiet room.

"Let me get you ready first." Chris's lips rub against Dennis’s shoulder, back and forth. They press gentle little pecks there, leaving tingles in their wake. "Don't want to hurt you."

Words fail Dennis completely. He manages a jerky nod.

Chris must notice his tension because he nuzzles at the side of Dennis’s face until Dennis turns enough for their lips to meet.

The kiss is unhurried, determined—tongues coming together as their mouths press and release, once, twice, three times before they part.

Dennis’s heart still pounds, but now it's from anticipation rather than nerves, everything feeling sharper, more electric.

He tries to make his muscles unclench. His mind races with possibilities, but god, he wants this.

"I'm going to touch you here, okay princess?" Chris's voice stays steady despite the tremor in his hands. Despite how is cock throbs warm against Dennis’s lower back with every shift of their bodies. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

The first touch of slick fingers makes Dennis tense up. His hole clenches involuntarily against the cold wetness.

"Relax." Chris's other hand comes around to stroke Dennis’s cock, a welcome distraction, slow and sure.

His lubed fingers work with careful attention—rubbing circles around Dennis’s entrance, spreading the lube with a featherlight touch. Pressing and retreating, each circle bringing more pressure until Dennis’s opening starts to give.

When Dennis’s hips circle in return, the coarse pads of Chris’s fingers deepen against him, catch against the edges of his rim in delightful ways that punch low into his belly.

"Gonna open you up so nice you'll be begging for it," Chris whispers this into his ear, nose trailing behind it before he catches Dennis’s earlobe between his teeth, sucks at it until Dennis shivers. "Not until it feels good though, okay baby? Tell me when it feels good."

Dennis can barely breathe, let alone think. His eyes might be open, might be closed—everything's spinning inside him, stomach doing somersaults. When he finally manages words, they come out breathless:

"I think... I think it feels good now."

Chris's mouth finds his nape, pressing soft, wet kisses there again and again. Then he's easing just the tip of one finger inside, so slowly it makes Dennis’s thighs shake.

The gentleness surprises him—something he didn’t expect, but isn’t unwelcome.

"I've got you, princess."

Dennis clenches around him, suddenly self-conscious. "I want to make you feel good too, not just—"

"Let me take care of you."

And something in Chris's voice—something Dennis has never heard before, something earnest, something certain—makes him nod.

He lets his head fall back onto Chris's shoulder, surrendering to every sensation. Even just half a finger feels enormous.

The stretch burns, foreign and intrusive in a place no one's touched before.

Chris's lips ghost over his neck, vibrating with every gasp that escapes Dennis, whispering soft shushes even as Dennis breaks out in a cold sweat.

"A little more?" Chris's voice stays kind, raspy. "Let me in deeper?"

Dennis tries to spread his thighs wider, forcing his muscles to relax.

He focuses on Chris's other hand, now between his legs, petting the underside of his body. Cupping his balls. Rolling them lightly even as they try to draw up tight and escape into him from the intensity of it all.

Little sounds keep spilling from his throat—choked moans and hitched breaths, ahh s and grunts he can't control.

When Chris's finger finds something inside him that makes sparks shoot up his spine, Dennis’s whole body arches.

The sound that tears from his throat is raw and guttural—it's strange, overwhelming, the fullness both uncomfortable and spellbinding all at once. His mind can't make sense of it.

"There we go," Chris murmurs. "So beautiful, princess." His mouth latches onto Dennis’s neck, adding another mark to his collection. "So perfect for me."

Dennis loses track of time, lost in the push and pull of Chris's digit. Each drag out and press in feels monumental, his body hypersensitive to every little movement no matter how small.

When he bears down harder—past the joint, then a knuckle—taking Chris's entire finger inside, the gasp punches out of his chest.

His upper back curves as his head presses deeper into Chris's shoulder, one hand flying back to grip Chris's thigh while the other clutches at the back of his hand around his cock.

The room falls silent except for their breathing—Dennis’s sharp and shallow, Chris's steady and deep against his back. The minutes tick by as Chris stays still, letting Dennis’s body adjust to the intrusion.

When Dennis’s breathing finally evens out, Chris takes it as permission to move. He works his finger in tiny nudges, stopping whenever Dennis’s muscles clench around him.

The drag of his knuckle makes Dennis groan, but Chris just changes angle—left, then right, coaxing virgin walls to give way until Dennis starts rocking back against his hand.

"Think you can take another?" Chris murmurs against his ear, encouraged by how Dennis’s body has started to yield. "Just tell me if it's too much."

Dennis can barely form words, caught between the stretch and the way Chris's other hand keeps his cock hard and leaking. "Y—yeah," he manages, "just... slow."

The second finger meets resistance immediately. Dennis’s breath hitches, catching in his chest as Chris eases it alongside the first. The burn intensifies—sharper now, making his toes curl against the sheets.

"Breathe for me, baby," Chris coaches, his free hand abandoning Dennis’s cock to spread across his stomach. "That's it. Let me in."

A whimper escapes when both fingers press deeper. Dennis’s thighs shake, trapped between wanting to close from the intensity and spread wider for more.

"Fuck," he chokes out, head thrashing against Chris's shoulder. "Ow, god, fuck… hurts—"

"I know, princess. You're doing so well." Chris's fingers pause, giving Dennis a break from the overload of sensations. "Want me to stop?"

"No!" The word comes out desperate as Dennis’s hand shoots back, grabbing Chris's wrist before he can pull away. "Just... give me a minute."

Chris peppers kisses along his shoulder, waiting until Dennis’s breathing steadies before he starts moving again— shallow thrusts that have Dennis gasping, torn, in two minds. Simultaneously wanting to push back to have more of Chris in his body, yet pull away from the overwhelming feeling.

When Chris starts easing his fingers apart—barely a whisper of movement—the burn transforms.

The new stretch sends sparks through Dennis’s body, making his cock spasm and dribble against his stomach. His hips start moving on their own, grinding back even as his muscles protest the invasion.

"Please," he whimpers, "need—" His words dissolve into a high keen when Chris's fingers curl with purpose, finding their target again—that pleasure point that makes his vision fragment into stardust.

"Shhh," Chris's lips brush everywhere they can reach—up Dennis’s neck, across his shoulder, behind his ear. His tongue clucks softly between kisses. "Only when you're ready."

"Want it," Dennis groans, the words scraped from his throat, “Chris,” he insists, voice higher, a little broken, “ Want it!”

"Baby," Chris says as if in consolation, "I barely got two fingers in you. Not much else is going to fit in this ass today…"

Dennis’s head spins, caught between want and uncertainty. He doesn't know how this will work, only knows the ache building inside him demands more.

"Try. Just try, please, Chris?” he pleads. “Even just the tip—I, I want to know how it feels.”

How Chris feels.

“Need to know,” Dennis manages, in between gasps.

Chris swallows hard against his back. Dennis senses it with his skin. He’s so zoned out of his surroundings yet meticulously attuned to every little movement Chris makes next to him, around him, in him.

"If you're sure..." he feels the breath, short and hot, puff against his cheek.

Dennis tightens his grip on Chris's hand, eyes squeezed shut, and nods.

Chris's fingers slip out, leaving Dennis strangely hollow. The intrusion had felt strange, alien. But now the emptiness feels worse somehow.

The sound of the condom wrapper crackles through the quiet room—too loud, too obvious.

“You okay?” Chris asks, but his hands shake a little as he rolls the latex on.

Then he's lining up, palm forced steady on Dennis’s waist.

Dennis needs this—needs to know if this part of himself is real. If what he feels for Chris is tied to Chris being a man, or simply because Chris is Chris. Or maybe it’s nothing more than an experiment, some passing curiosity.

When Dennis feels Chris’s cockhead nudge against his hole, he tries to sink into the moment. Push himself onto Chris. Urge Chris into himself. Smother the spiral of thoughts clawing at his mind…

But white-hot pain lances up his spine, breaking through everything in blazes.

Dennis’s eyes fly open. "Fuck," he hisses.

No dick pic could have prepared him for this. It's too much. Too big.

"Easy, baby, easy." Chris's lips press soft words into his skin, his hands anchoring Dennis’s hips. "Slow down. We've got time."

"Wait," Dennis hisses, muscles seizing despite Chris's careful preparation. His face burns hot enough to scorch. "I can't— it's too—"

"Hey." Chris immediately stills. One hand coming up to turn Dennis’s face towards himself. "We don't have to. There's no rush."

"But I wanted—" Dennis’s voice cracks, upset. "You wanted—"

Why is he so crap at everything?! He used to be amazing at anything he touched.

"Shhh." Chris's kiss is soft, lingering. He knocks their foreheads together, Dennis still breathing hard. "We will. God, even this is amazing. Just feeling you so hot, so tight around my fingers—you have no idea what you do to me, princess."

"I'm sorry..." Dennis’s cheeks burn. He’s so fucking embarrassing. This has to be the worst night of Chris's life.

"Don't you dare apologize." Chris’s arms hug around him, tightening like a vice. "I'm the lucky one here. Can't wait to try again."

"Really?" Dennis doesn't mean to sound so small.

"Hell yeah." Chris's grin turns teasing. "Besides, the longer it takes for you to open up for my dick, the more material I get for my spank bank. Win-win."

Dennis’s exasperation wipes away every last trace of embarrassment, heat rushing to his face for an entirely different reason.

"You’re disgusting!" He slaps Chris’s chest with a loud smack, leaving a red handprint that stands out against Chris’s flushed skin.

"Ow!" But Chris is laughing, pulling him closer until their foreheads press together again.

Dennis’s hands find Chris's face, thumbs stroking his cheeks while Chris claims his mouth in kiss after kiss.

Maybe it's not the worst night after all. Maybe it's just the beginning.