Realization washes over his features. “I didn’t think you were scared. I just like being the one fingering.”
I look him over. “So have you ever been fingered or bottomed before?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “But it’s been a while. My first time receiving anal was nineteen. College. And I haven’t done it since college.”
“How come?”
“I just get off more being in you than you in me.”
I smile, about to joke about how he hasn’t been inside me yet, but Oscar beats me to the punch and says, “I’m not talking about another guy’s asshole when I just want yours, bro.”
I’m hard again.
His erection is already begging for touch, and we’re drawing closer. “If you do want to top one day, I’d bottom for you,” Oscar breathes. “But truthfully, I can’t promise I’d be into doing it every time we have sex.”
I appreciate him being upfront.
“I think that’ll be okay,” I say quietly, fire warming my skin. Warming us. Embers crackle, and flames cast shadows on our bare bodies. “How bad does it hurt the first time?”
“I’ll work you up enough that it shouldn’t.” He kisses my jaw, then my lips, and I drag a hand down his abs to his length. While I stroke him, he bears his weight against me. Guiding my back against the woven rug, and my neck and head meet a pillow.
We kiss deep, rougher as our legs intertwine. My waist bucks up. He keeps bearing down, his palms planted on either side of my deltoids.
I glide my hands along his ass, and I lose myself to the sensation. How my legs spread on either side of his hips. His erection teases against my entry, but he eases me more with a finger, then a lubed plug. The pressure overwhelms me, contracts my calves, my abs, every single tendon of muscle.
I breathe hard.
The physicality of being intimate with Oscar is mind-blowing: his muscled body, his strength and control. His hand that grips my jaw as he kisses me—that alone just lights me on fire.
But it’d be nothing without his all-consuming gaze that reads my reactions, my muscle spasms, that dives deeper and deeper, as though wanting to hold onto my core. My essence while we ride a wave together.
I cup his jaw, my hand rising up to his hair, and my thumb traces the scar above his brow. Small but not as faint as the others.
His nose flares in emotion. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Nerves prick me, and I inhale, exhale. He gently eases out the plug, and my cock twitches, wishing for that fullness again. “Should I…?” I’m about to turn around.
“No.” Oscar catches my knee. “Stay there.” He positions a pillow under my lower back.
I lean back and hold onto his ass again. Our chests and erections brush lightly while he leans down to kiss me. I edge his lips further open, tongues wrestling, and he grunts out an aroused noise as he pulls away to grab a condom.
He tears the packet, sheathes himself, then lubes his length.
I arch up. My body more impatient than my mind.
Oscar rubs my thigh. “If I’m hurting you, you tell me to stop.”
I nod, anticipation wound up.
He grips himself and at the same time, crushes his mouth to mine in a levitating kiss. I feel him guide his veined cock into me. Pain pinches at first, and my legs shift.
He stretches one higher, kisses deeper. I’m the recipient of pure, raw pleasure. It takes me aback. How much he’s giving me. How little I’m actually worried about his need.
Oscar pushes in further—my breath catches.
He waits.
“Fuck, fuck.” I grip his ass. “Go deeper, Os.”
He eases in more.
Pain is gone. He’s bigger than the plug, but lube helps with the friction. Making the experience a blistering, head-spinning one. He thrusts.
He’s thrusting.
Jesus holy…
His dominant hand strokes pleasure from my hardness between our chests, and he pumps and pumps. Our eyes stay locked when we’re not sharing primal kisses.
I will let him fuck me again.
He can tomorrow, even.
And the next day.
He works his hips. “Highland,” he groans against my mouth. We’re heavy grunts, sweat, and earnestness—feelings that carry us further and further.
The friction inside me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. He reaches my prostate, and I gasp on a noise I’ve never even made before now. “Os, Os.”
Pleasure mounts all around me, and I close my eyes to stop myself from saying his full name. Hand to the back of his head, I tangle my fingers in his curls, then drop them back to his ass.
The pace kills my senses as I feel him rock into me.
His ass flexes against my palms. I squeeze his ass cheeks, and a husky, pleasured noise rumbles out of him.
I slap his ass.
He grins back at me while thrusting.
I smile until a groan tears out of me. “Fuck,” I grit down. That feels amazing. Sweat builds on us, and he quickens and deepens his pace.
Reaching the spot again.
And again.
Holy—
And I come so hard, I almost black-out.
“Fucking ah,” Oscar groans, thrusts one more time, two more times as he ekes out a climax, and his hand is still wrapped around me.
I breathe too hard and glance down at our chests. Cum—my cum—is slick between our abs. My lips begin to lift.
Oscar laughs out a heavy pant. “God, that was seriously A+++.”
“I’d give you another plus.” I’m still scrounging for oxygen.
“Don’t. Let me aspire to something,” Oscar grins, and gently, he pulls out and falls back next to me. I stretch my legs, our ankles hooking.
We hold each other a little and talk about it.
How much we enjoyed that, and the truth is, I’m starting to understand why I’m so caught up in the moment with Oscar. Why I come too easily when I never did in the past.
It’s not that he has a “perfect touch”—though it feels like it—I’m just used to concentrating on someone else’s pleasure in bed. To feed their orgasm. To help
