Not this time.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t have a clue what he needed or why. Except that Laddin kissed him as if he wanted to own Bruce. Not as a slave, but as a favorite toy to play with, to enjoy, to bang against the floor and tear open to see how the insides worked. And Bruce wanted that too, because he didn’t know who he was anymore. If Laddin could find that out, Bruce would give him anything he wanted. And maybe together they’d be able to figure out the parts that made up the man. Or the wolf. Or whatever he was now.
So when Laddin started kissing down his chest, he let his head flop back and closed his eyes in surrender. His dick was thrusting upward, searching for more, but Bruce didn’t even try to control it. He let it do as it wanted and waited for whatever Laddin chose to do.
Laddin was patient in ways that Bruce had never been. The way he kissed Bruce was steady, thorough, and methodical. Each rib was nipped in careful exploration. His nipples were worked in precise ways. Tongue first, teeth next, and then a pinch that had his hips bucking like a bronco.
And all the while, Laddin kept one hand wrapped firmly around Bruce’s cock, as if he was holding the reins in a hard fist. He let Bruce thrust and squirm, but he flowed with the movements, never giving Bruce the friction he wanted. If Bruce pushed up, Laddin’s fist went with him. If Bruce drew back or shifted his hips or even pulsed with need, Laddin simply rode with the angle and occasionally squeezed. Laddin’s grip stopped any possible release and kept Bruce’s hot pulses of hunger from overflowing.
Bruce was exhaling hot bellows of need, but they didn’t change Laddin’s thorough exploration of his nipples, then belly. Then, finally—mercifully—he brought his mouth to Bruce’s dick.
Bruce waited with breath suspended for Laddin’s grip to ease. His entire focus was centered on that fist and the moment it would let him slide up and down.
But it didn’t move. Instead, Laddin licked at his tip—a tiny brush that echoed through his whole body. And again. That slow lollipop lick felt like a tongue laving every part of his flesh. Somehow the tip of his dick had become everything he was. And when Laddin’s fist slipped lower and his mouth teased across the entire head, Bruce shook with the sensations. No part of him remained untouched. Then, when Laddin began to suck, his mouth moving with glacier-like progress, Bruce felt himself wholly engulfed.
Wet. Heavy. Inevitable. Unstoppable.
He surrendered to Laddin’s weight. He let it crush him with need, obliterate all his thoughts. His orgasm was only part of the process. He was so blown apart that when he released, the bliss merged with the annihilation.
Suddenly he felt free.
Boneless, mindless, released, and erased into bliss.
And then Laddin rolled him over.
“On your knees,” he ordered.
Bruce obeyed.
“You think you’re done, don’t you,” he said.
He did.
“There’s more, but you have to stay exactly like this. You have to be relaxed.”
Not a problem.
He waited while Laddin got something from the truck. He didn’t move—hell, he barely breathed as Laddin returned. Then he felt hands on his asscheeks, spreading them open, and an invasion that was like everything else Laddin did—slow, steady, and completely thorough. A finger wet with lube. His mind told him that, but his body didn’t care.
He was open. He was empty. And Laddin was going to fill him up.
The finger moved in and out. There seemed to be no rush, just a push that went progressively deeper. Over and over. And then there was a wiggle somewhere deep inside. A place that had him drawing a deep breath in surprise.
“Don’t tense. Ride it.”
He wasn’t tensing. He was feeling. But in order to do that, he had to open up wider. He had to let Laddin press and rub wherever that was.
Laddin didn’t. He gently removed his finger only to replace it with two, offering stretches and pokes that weren’t getting there but were coming steadily closer.
Bruce whimpered. He’d never made that sound in his life, but he did now. He wanted, but he had no ability to demand. The words wouldn’t form; the force wouldn’t come. He was a creature of open need.
He waited.
Eventually a hard, blunt tip pressed at his opening. And like before, the thrust was steady, patient, and inescapable. A little deeper each time. A little wider with every thrust. And while the burn added to the sensations, Bruce didn’t resist. He was too open and too needy.
He simply existed while pleasure spiraled outward from the point of penetration. And while the thrill built with each invasion, Bruce didn’t move with it. He didn’t buck, and he sure as hell didn’t bear down. Not until Laddin was fully vested. Not until the heat of his body added to the burn of expansion.
Then Laddin leaned down over Bruce’s back. Bruce felt the heat of his breath across his shoulders and the weight of his body on his spine. He bore it easily. He was a big guy, and he wanted this. Then Laddin grabbed hold of his dick in a grip of iron, just like before.
“Now you move,” he ordered. “Whatever you want.”
The words didn’t compute. What he wanted? He’d been emptied of wants. And yet his body knew exactly what to do.
His hips thrust into Laddin’s fist. Sensation burst through his consciousness from two places. Every thrust had his dick weeping with pleasure. And every shift had Laddin rubbing against that
