Bad Case of Loving You

He tasted clean, of soap and skin, when I leaned forward and licked my tongue down the crack of his arse. He shivered, I felt it clearly, and said, “Oh, fuck…” as I rimmed my tongue across his skin.

This was different without latex; I could press my tongue in, which made Andrew flail around briefly, and suck effectively, which obviously felt good, too, if the yelling was any indication. There was nothing like an appreciative partner. I spread his cheeks with my hands…

He thwacked my leg once, quite hard, and I figured that was as good as any stupid safeword. When I looked up at him, he was clenching the quilt so tightly his knuckles were white and he said, “Fuck, Matthew, I haven’t got a chance of waiting if you’re gonna keep doing that.”

I lay down beside him and stroked his arm gently. “And you were so polite before,” I murmured, then I grinned at him.

He grinned back at me. “Seemed that doing what you told me, and waiting for you, was more important than trying to remember to say ‘please’.”

“Of course you’re right,” I murmured, then I kissed him, long and slow, kissing all of his mouth, making sure he could taste himself.

He moaned and whimpered and trembled on the bed, and it took me a moment to realise he was coming, even though neither of us were touching his cock.

He didn’t meet my eyes when I lifted my mouth from his, just kept his gaze lowered, so I touched his chin, lifting his face. He lifted his eyes, and I said, “I’ve never had someone come just from being kissed before. That was amazing.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and it was moments like this that made me hate being a dom. Part of the dynamics included setting challenges for the other person, and I always consciously tried to chose something that was reasonable, but obviously he had been more turned on than I’d realised.

“Don’t apologise,” I said, and it came out as an order.

There was a flicker of something in Andrew’s eyes then, laughter perhaps, and it reassured me. I said, “I’m going to fuck you anyway.”

He placed his hands carefully, one on a moss green patch, the other on canary yellow, and I stood behind him pulling a glove on. I rubbed my fingers together, warming the lube a little, making Andrew wait, then pushed two fingers into him slowly.

He was relaxed; the only tension in his body was in his arms; biceps and forearms taut, holding him steady; and my fingers slid into him easily. He was open enough I could have just fucked him, but that wasn’t what we were there for.

He was making tiny noises now, involuntary responses that grew louder when I added a third finger. Fuck, I would have loved to fist him like this, but it wasn’t good practice, not unless he was pumped full of drugs and held steady by suspension wrist cuffs. Three fingers would have to be enough for both of us.

I was so focused on what I was doing, twisting my wrist to press my thumb against his perineum, working my fingertips inside him to give him maximum sensation, that it took me a little while to realise he was talking to himself.

“Yes… please, must… can’t,” he was muttering under his breath. “Need… must, you…”

“And you shall have me,” I murmured, leaning forward so my face was pressed against his neck, my cock against one of his buttocks.

He was trembling again and I reached around his waist with my other hand to stroke his cock. He groaned, and I knew I’d misjudged again, he was much closer than I’d anticipated. “Right now,” I added, and his moan was relieved.

Neither of us wanted him to fail again.

I withdrew my fingers, rolled a condom on, lubed myself up quickly, and moved to stand behind Andrew.

It was a damn good thing we were the same height, it made this so much easier, and I only had to bend my knees a little.

The bottom bead caught and I had to push a little harder than usual to drag the bead in. He cried out, sweet and sharp, and I eased myself into him.

With us both standing the angles were completely different and I had no control over them, but it felt amazing. I rocked into him, no finesse, just his weight holding me in as deep as I could go, and reached around to stroke his cock.

It took a moment for us to establish a rhythm, then we were rocking together slowly; him braced against the wall, my weight pressing against his back. We couldn’t sustain it for long, not without at least one of us cramping, but this wasn’t going to take long, not when it felt like this.

I closed my eyes, the colours on the wall burnt into my memory so strongly I could see them with my eyes shut, and bit down on Andrew’s shoulder without meaning to.

I tasted blood, metallic and hot, and it made me come.

Andrew slumped in my arms, completely drained, and I held him as well as I could, pulling out of him too roughly in my attempt to stop him from falling down.

He was heavy. We staggered backward to the bed, and it was a huge relief to be able to let us both fall safely into the quilt. Andrew looked utterly exhausted in my arms, and when I looked up, there was come streaking the painting.