pain brought him to his toes, his body instinctively tightening against the intrusion.
With those two fingers buried deep, Sasha pressed on his lower back with his other hand, pushing him back down. Kicked at one of his ankles. “You’re too damn tall,” he grumbled.
Thomas shifted, widening his stance and bending his knees a bit to accommodate the differences in their respective heights. Sasha’s hands abruptly left him. A thin stream of cool, viscous liquid hit the crease of his arse. He gave a start then locked his muscles, kept himself still. Sasha swiped up the oil, pushed two digits back inside. In and out, stroking deep. A slick, wicked glide. The strange sensation shifted to oddly intriguing. The urge to push back, to get… more, like a need to scratch an itch just out of reach, rose within.
Then those fingers were gone again, leaving him aching for more. A proprietary hand settled on his hip. A blunt pressure pushed against him, hard and insistent.
He clenched his jaw, stifling the grunt before it could work its way out of his throat. Holy… hell that hurt.
Cold sweat pricked his bare skin. Pain swamped his senses as what could only be Sasha’s cock pushed inside him.
Sasha abruptly went still. The hands on his hips briefly tightened, fingertips digging into his skin, and then gentled. Sasha shifted behind him. Soft linen tickled his back.
“Relax for me.” The words were whispered against his shoulder blade.
He curled his toes against the cold floorboards, then tried his best to will the tension from his body. He could do this. He would do this for Sasha.
“That’s it. Let me in, Thomas.” Sasha’s murmur was low and intimate, more breath than sound.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Sasha pushed forward, until the hair on his groin pressed against Thomas’s arse, until he filled him completely.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
He felt the barely perceptible tremor in the hands on his hips. The sounds of his own rapid, pulling breaths beat against his ears. Bloody hell, had the man’s cock tripled in size? Thomas concentrated on slowing his breaths, lengthening each exhale. The sharp sting began to recede, giving way to a tiny hint of pleasure so small he wasn’t sure if it was truly there or if he wanted this to feel good so badly he conjured that trace of pleasure from will alone.
Lips brushed his shoulder blade, pressed light kisses to his skin. “All right?”
Thomas nodded once.
“Are you certain?”
At his second nod, the tickle of linen left his skin as Sasha pushed upright. Then Sasha pulled back. The overwhelming sense of fullness eased only to return again as he began a rhythm of short, slow strokes that approached gentle, tempting Thomas to believe Sasha was showing him some care. A tiny bit of hope sparked. Hope that perhaps Sasha understood, that he grasped the significance behind his willingness to give the man his very self.
With each thrust, the pleasure built, seeping into his veins, drawing his ballocks up tight. His world narrowed to the cock in his arse and his own hardening between his legs. Before he was aware of it, he bumped back into the next thrust. “More,” he gasped.
With a groan, Sasha met him and then some. Each hard thrust made him beyond desperate for another. And another.
Sasha shifted, changing the angle of his strokes. Thomas’s eyes flew open and he let out a grunt as intense pleasure shot through his body. A compact, wickedly potent burst that shook his knees. Followed by another and another, as the head of Sasha’s prick repeatedly hit that spot inside him.
He felt the heat from the man’s body a second before Sasha covered him. Harsh, whisky-soaked breaths puffed past his shoulder. One of the hands on his hips slid down, wrapped around his hard cock. Sasha’s grip was firm and achingly familiar, fingers closing securely around his length. Two strokes, and the orgasm rushed through him, engulfing his senses.
A shout filled his ears.
With those two fingers buried deep, Sasha pressed on his lower back with his other hand, pushing him back down. Kicked at one of his ankles. “You’re too damn tall,” he grumbled.
Thomas shifted, widening his stance and bending his knees a bit to accommodate the differences in their respective heights. Sasha’s hands abruptly left him. A thin stream of cool, viscous liquid hit the crease of his arse. He gave a start then locked his muscles, kept himself still. Sasha swiped up the oil, pushed two digits back inside. In and out, stroking deep. A slick, wicked glide. The strange sensation shifted to oddly intriguing. The urge to push back, to get… more, like a need to scratch an itch just out of reach, rose within.
Then those fingers were gone again, leaving him aching for more. A proprietary hand settled on his hip. A blunt pressure pushed against him, hard and insistent.
He clenched his jaw, stifling the grunt before it could work its way out of his throat. Holy… hell that hurt.
Cold sweat pricked his bare skin. Pain swamped his senses as what could only be Sasha’s cock pushed inside him.
Sasha abruptly went still. The hands on his hips briefly tightened, fingertips digging into his skin, and then gentled. Sasha shifted behind him. Soft linen tickled his back.
“Relax for me.” The words were whispered against his shoulder blade.
He curled his toes against the cold floorboards, then tried his best to will the tension from his body. He could do this. He would do this for Sasha.
“That’s it. Let me in, Thomas.” Sasha’s murmur was low and intimate, more breath than sound.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Sasha pushed forward, until the hair on his groin pressed against Thomas’s arse, until he filled him completely.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
He felt the barely perceptible tremor in the hands on his hips. The sounds of his own rapid, pulling breaths beat against his ears. Bloody hell, had the man’s cock tripled in size? Thomas concentrated on slowing his breaths, lengthening each exhale. The sharp sting began to recede, giving way to a tiny hint of pleasure so small he wasn’t sure if it was truly there or if he wanted this to feel good so badly he conjured that trace of pleasure from will alone.
Lips brushed his shoulder blade, pressed light kisses to his skin. “All right?”
Thomas nodded once.
“Are you certain?”
At his second nod, the tickle of linen left his skin as Sasha pushed upright. Then Sasha pulled back. The overwhelming sense of fullness eased only to return again as he began a rhythm of short, slow strokes that approached gentle, tempting Thomas to believe Sasha was showing him some care. A tiny bit of hope sparked. Hope that perhaps Sasha understood, that he grasped the significance behind his willingness to give the man his very self.
With each thrust, the pleasure built, seeping into his veins, drawing his ballocks up tight. His world narrowed to the cock in his arse and his own hardening between his legs. Before he was aware of it, he bumped back into the next thrust. “More,” he gasped.
With a groan, Sasha met him and then some. Each hard thrust made him beyond desperate for another. And another.
Sasha shifted, changing the angle of his strokes. Thomas’s eyes flew open and he let out a grunt as intense pleasure shot through his body. A compact, wickedly potent burst that shook his knees. Followed by another and another, as the head of Sasha’s prick repeatedly hit that spot inside him.
He felt the heat from the man’s body a second before Sasha covered him. Harsh, whisky-soaked breaths puffed past his shoulder. One of the hands on his hips slid down, wrapped around his hard cock. Sasha’s grip was firm and achingly familiar, fingers closing securely around his length. Two strokes, and the orgasm rushed through him, engulfing his senses.
A shout filled his ears.
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