“Try to relax. You were what?”
“I was always all locked up. In my head.” Tobias would’ve made a gesture toward his temple, but he was a bit occupied holding on to the cushion for dear life. “Thinking too much.”
“Hmm.” Sullivan prodded deeper with two fingers, thick and implacable, his thumb massaging the rim of Tobias’s asshole, and Tobias made a harsh, embarrassing sound of greed. The nerves in his belly sparked something fierce. “Needed it slower?”
“No. No, I... I kept thinking there was something I should be doing, but I was never sure what.”
“Maybe I can help you out with that.” Sullivan’s fingers searched inside him, as careful and delicate as an artist’s or a pianist’s, and a heartbeat later pleasure lit up in a golden, warm throb inside him. It traveled up his spine and through his limbs, leaving him shaking. “What are you supposed to be doing right now, Tobias?”
“Don’t—not coming.” Tobias swallowed hard, pressing his face into the cushion, and as Sullivan’s fingers worked inside him again and again, the pleasure stabbing through him over and over, following that order seemed like a far harder task than it had a minute ago.
“That’s right. Might be easier said than done, hmm? Look at you move. God, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
Tobias choked on air, flushed and too hot and humiliated in a way that felt so incredibly good. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer. Now that Sullivan had mentioned it, he was aware of the way his hips were rocking, of the way his whole body had gone taut, pressing back into Sullivan’s touch. He tried to hold still, thinking perhaps Sullivan didn’t like that he was...needy, but he couldn’t seem to control it. And besides, Sullivan’s voice was unsteady behind him as he added, “It’s pretty. You look so sweet like this, Tobias. Eager for me. Aching for me. You’d like more, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Tobias gritted out.
“Want my cock?”
Tobias couldn’t even find words for that—he could only groan, his eyes squeezing tight, because he was close, he was so damn close, and he...he couldn’t.
“Stop,” he cried. “I—I’m gonna, I’m sorry, but—”
The fingers inside him went still instantly and the pleasure subsided in a slow, painful undertow.
“I’m sorry,” Tobias muttered.
“Shh. No, Tobias, you were so good. You did exactly what I told you to do.”
“I can do better.” He was sure he could. The orgasm had retreated all the way. He could hold on for much longer now.
“This is exactly what I want. Take some breaths.” Sullivan’s left hand stroked up and down Tobias’s spine, soothing as Tobias obeyed. “Ready?”
“Yes, I can do it.”
“All right.” Sullivan’s fingers began to move inside him once more, and the pleasure grew in degrees, through small, almost indifferent brushes of fingertips at first, and then through more pointed, determined pressure, until Tobias was fighting not to grind his dick against the towel Sullivan had thrown across the arm of the chair.
The effects weren’t only physical; deep inside, in a part of his mind he hadn’t been actively aware of before, he could feel a sliding sensation. Like he was shifting or opening. Submerging—that was it. Like he was sinking into himself, into a new place in his own mind. It wasn’t alien—he’d experienced it yesterday, when he’d been on his knees, far past thinking, little more than a creature of need and desperation. But that dip into thoughtlessness had been almost instantaneous, like Sullivan had shoved him into a pool and Tobias had gone over without so much as a caught breath. This was a slow immersion, Sullivan drawing him in slowly, temptingly. This was something he might be able to stop, if he wanted to.
He didn’t want to.
The sensation built, Sullivan’s hand sure and steady, demanding that Tobias’s body give up its secrets, that Tobias give him everything. And the command in it, the surety, was impossible to resist. Tobias spread his legs and pushed back into it and gave.
“You’re lovely like this,” Sullivan murmured sometime later, when the last of the sunlight had vanished from the windows. “So desperate. So hungry.”
Tobias didn’t feel lovely. He felt wrecked—covered in sweat and lube, his whole body trembling, his mouth parched. He couldn’t speak anymore, was long past thinking. All he knew was the impossible pleasure that ripped through his body until it almost reached a peak, and his own wild cries of “stop, don’t, wait.”
Sullivan had three fingers wedged into Tobias now, giving his prostate a brief break while he tormented his rim, the burn painful in a way that only got Tobias closer, in a way that made him yearn for something larger to fill him up. Sullivan added more lube regularly, never letting him get dry enough to tear, always careful.
Always maddening.
Again, Tobias cried out, and this time Sullivan pulled away completely. Tobias remained still, vibrating in place, the silence in his head huge and dark until Sullivan’s voice came back: “I’m still here. I haven’t left you. I’m just getting something. Be patient.”
Dimly Tobias knew that Sullivan was being kind, but he was long past knowing why he thought so. He only knew that the words made him feel safe, and he didn’t have to question the feeling.
A minute later Sullivan used one hand to guide Tobias into a standing position. He held a bottle of water up to Tobias’s lips. “Drink,” he said quietly. “Not too much at once.”
Tobias sipped until Sullivan was satisfied. “How are we doing?” Sullivan asked. “How are your back and legs holding up?”
His mind was so starkly blank and open that it took a second for Tobias to find his legs and back, and several more seconds to assess their state of being. “Okay. Muscles are tight.”
“No pain, though?”
Tobias shook his head.
“What about here?” Sullivan’s hand dropped, his fingers prodding between Tobias’s cheeks, sliding inside him without difficulty. “You seem all right. Wide open, actually. Soft and wet.”
Tobias sucked in
