36. Alex

CHAPTER 36

ALEX

Dylan’s ass was purple and red, speckled with bruises shaped like my fingers and patches of gooseflesh the size of my palm. He’d come twice already, though I wasn’t sure if he had even registered the second one. When I pulled the vibrating massager out of him, he whimpered, pushing his hips back toward me.

He was flying, and I was right there with him.

Pouring lube over my cock, I lined my head up with his quivering gape and pushed inside. Even with the prep I’d done with my fingers and the toy, his body was still the hottest and tightest place I’d ever been.

“Bear down, pet,” I reminded him, petting my hands down the small of his back.

He murmured something mindless, but his body relaxed around me and the rest of my length punched inside of him.

Fuck.

“I believe it,” he murmured, eyes open but stare focused somewhere far beyond the bedroom we were in.

Falling forward, I braced myself over top of him, putting my hand over his and tangling our fingers together.

“What do you believe?” I asked, dragging my nose through the trails of sweat and tears along his cheek. He was a mess. He was perfect. He was mine.

“You love me.”

I hummed, pumping my hips against the bruises I’d just made, shivering with every moan and groan that fell out of his mouth. Dylan was so far gone I worried he might never come back down, but he flexed his fingers against mine, and that was enough of a reminder that for as high as we both were, we were still very present in the moment.

“I love you,” I confirmed, snapping my hips, setting a pace with short and shallow thrusts that fucked my cock into his tightness and his slippery cock into the pillow beneath him. He grunted, hole clenching down around my dick. Bending over Dylan entirely, I pressed a kiss against the back of his sweat-slick neck. “And I love that you don’t even know that you’re coming.”

“I’m wh?—”

His words were garbled, and I reached my arm between the pillow and his stomach, catching spurts of his most recent release against the tips of my fingers. I banded my other arm around his chest and pulled us both upright. Rocked back onto my heels, Dylan sank fully down around me, opening his mouth but letting no sound out. I traced my cum-sticky fingers across his lower lip before pushing them into his mouth, flattening his tongue until he gagged.

Everything about him was perfect.

Perfect for me.

Dylan choked around my fingers, mostly dead weight on my lap, but I couldn’t blame him. I’d spanked and fucked him nearly senseless and I wasn’t anywhere near being finished with him.

“Suck,” I demanded, shoving my fingers deeper into his mouth until he sealed his lips around my knuckles and did what I’d asked.

Leaning back enough to hold us both upright, I let my other hand wander down his chest, stopping to tease and tweak his nipples before reaching his inner thighs. Dylan’s cock burned the side of my hand like a hot poker, cum stains drying on his stomach, his legs, and his balls. Using my fingernail, I scraped some cum away, then sank my fingers down around the smallest sliver of skin I could grab. I pinched him so hard it hurt me, and every muscle in his body constricted and released.

The unforgiving hold of his channel around my cock sent a shockwave through me, and I clenched my jaw together, lifting off the floor to fuck my cock into him deeper.

“That’s a good pet,” I praised, releasing my fingers and moving an inch higher. “Just like that.”

I pinched him again and he cried out so loud I thought the windows were going to shatter. Another wave of tension through his muscles and then the inevitable release. Dylan cried and stopped, started again and then stopped once more. I was relatively certain any feelings inside of him were now smeared across his skin, which was a clean slate for us both. Beneath our combined weight, my thighs shook, tense and aching. My mind was focused on Dylan and Dylan alone, but also treacherously close to going entirely blank to the point the only thing left in me was the unhinged need to mark him as mine.

“Do it again,” I whispered, moving to a new spot and delivering another sharp pinch. He sobbed, but his body tightened down around mine like a vise. Baring my teeth, I dragged them across the back of his neck, ready to bite. “Make me come, Dylan.”

I pinched him again and he sobbed, muscles clenching down around me harder than before. I moved my hand closer to the inside of his leg and found a new spot to torment, sinking my teeth into the side of his neck when the orgasm finally crescendoed at the base of my spine.

Dylan screamed my name, his body seizing out of his control as a weak burst of cum leaked from the tip of his cock, sliding down until it spread across my fingers. He was spent and he was as much mine as I was his. I came with a roar, which should have been embarrassing, and probably would have been were it not for the absolute raw and feral need of it.

With one final pinch, I shoved Dylan back down onto the pillow, fucking into him with so much force we ended up halfway across the room before I came back into my body. My fingers pressed so hard into the swell of his hips I could make out the feel of his skin against the places behind my fingernails, my cock buried so deep inside of him I never wanted it to see the light of day again.

On the ground, spread out like a starfish, Dylan’s hips jerked as he shot what had to be his final load across my imported Persian rug before letting out one more whimper that toed the line between pleasure and pain a little closer to the edge than I normally liked to go.

“Sssh,” I whispered, shifting our bodies and rolling Dylan onto his side. He whimpered as I brushed his hair back from his face, wiping the sweat and the tears away as I lay down behind him on my side and wrapped him up in my arms. “I’ve got you. I’m here, Dylan. You’re safe.”

“Safe,” he whispered, barely more than a breath of air out of his mouth.

I licked my lips, swallowing down a tidal wave of emotions as Dylan sought out my hand. All he could manage was to hook his finger over my pinky before he lost consciousness entirely. His breathing settled into a slow and even cadence letting me know he’d fallen into what I hoped would be the deepest sleep of his life. I kept him in my arms anyway, getting comfortable on the floor behind him.

What I realized, in that hazy afterglow, that I’d not paid attention to before was that I needed it too. I needed the quiet opportunities to sit in the love that had blossomed and bloomed in the earlier moments. I needed to appreciate the way it was Dylan’s trust and his belief in my love for him…my need for him…that gave us the peace we now found ourselves in. Closing my eyes, I kissed his neck on the place I’d bruised him earlier in the shape of my teeth, I told him I loved him, and then I let it be.

Sleep came as quick for me as it had for Dylan, and when I woke up later, I was disoriented and sore, completely unaware of the time. Dylan wasn’t beside me, so I rolled onto my back and stretched out my legs. My thighs were tight from the short time I’d had him on my lap, my palm still sensitive from how hard I’d spanked him. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I pushed into a sitting position, expecting Dylan to be close but finding the bedroom empty.

Very empty.

He’d stripped the sheets off the bed and the pillowcase he’d made a mess of earlier in the day as well. The bed was remade with a fresh set of sheets, my duvet spread out almost as evenly as I liked it. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Dylan was trying to erase evidence of what we’d done together, but the cum stains in my rug were…

Not there.

With a huff of quiet laughter, I rubbed my hand across the place I knew he’d leaked all over to find it soaking wet and smelling of lemons.

He’d cleaned up.

I imagined him on his hands and knees while I slept, scrubbing at the tight pile with a rag, his cock hard and wet again between his legs. I would liked to have sucked him off like that, let him make a mess of my throat while he cleaned up the mess he’d made of my one-of-a-kind rug.

Climbing to my feet, my own well-used cock twitching back to life at the thought of Dylan’s obedience and servitude, I checked the bathroom and then headed downstairs. The light coming in from the front windows convinced me it was nearly dinner time, and I found Dylan in the kitchen with a spatula in hand and a glare on his face.

“Surprised to see you conscious,” I said by way of a greeting.

His head snapped up, not surprised, but angry. Shooting daggers at me, he threw the spatula on the counter and held up my cast iron fry pan, a sticky and globby mess dripping toward the handle.

“I’m never going to get this right,” he said, dropping the pan back down on the burner with a loud crash.

He braced himself against the counter, head hanging low between his shoulders. He still favored his weight onto the right one, but I wasn’t going to lecture him about taking it easy on the left. He was almost finished with physical therapy and well on the road to recovery. His arm wasn’t the issue, though, for once. It was the fact the sex we’d just had on my bedroom floor had been as transformative for him as it had been for me.

But whereas I’d woken up ready to dedicate the rest of my breaths to his happiness, he’d woken up and thought he’d be able to fry an egg in my cast iron pan.

It was maybe…the same thing, I thought.

“Dylan.”

“Help me,” he said quietly, sucking in a breath that raised his shoulder to his ears. He stepped back from the counter and scrubbed a hand down his face. Turning to face me, his expression was so earnest, so bare. I wouldn’t say he looked defeated because that wouldn’t have been further from the truth. His shoulders were squared, his eyes clear. He was defiant in his courageousness, unafraid—finally—of asking for what he needed.

I knew I’d heard him right, but I wanted him to ask again. I wanted to make sure he was as ready for the future as I found myself.

“Hmn?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Will you help me with the egg?” He gestured toward the pan.

Crooking a finger, I beckoned him away from the stove. He shuffled toward me, jaw working back and forth as he closed the space between us. I opened my arms for him and he walked right into my chest, knocking his forehead against the front of my shoulder with a frustrated huff. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the top of his ear, the side of his head. He still smelled like sex, like sweat, like salt.

“All I’ve ever wanted was for you to ask.” I raked my fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck, smiling gently as he shivered against me. “Wanted you to know that I’d help you.”

I led him back to the stove and handed him the pan. Without being told, he scraped the ruined egg into the trash. Even though he couldn’t see me, I smiled at the back of his head, the tense lines across his shoulders. Dylan returned to the stove and set the pan on the burner, exhaling while he waited for me to help.

“Your pan is stupid,” he grumbled.

“It just needs some patience,” I told him.

“I’m not patient,” he said.

Even though I could barely see him through the tears that had fogged up my glasses, I slid my arm around his waist and hauled him into my side. “I know you’re not patient, pet. But lucky for us both, I am.”