Sailor Proof (Shore Leave 1)

“Let me.” I was good at efficient prep. Arthur’s heated gaze and hooded eyes as I touched myself ramped me up even more, and I softly moaned.

“I want to help.” He bit his lip as he reached a hand out.

“Yeah.” I dragged his hand next to mine, showing him what I liked. Directing him like this made my cock pulse, more so as I moved my hand aside so he could play on his own. Proving himself a fast study, he kept up the deep, insistent rhythm I loved.

“Fuck. You’re so tight. Hot.” The reverent look in his eyes was almost enough to get me off on the spot. Almost.

“More.” I rocked my hips up toward him.

“Like this?” He angled his fingers perfectly, and I could only answer him with a moan.

“Oh. You do like that.” Grinning slyly, he did it again. And again.

“Enough.” I groaned. “Now. Please.”

“Now?” Arthur didn’t sound in nearly enough of a hurry.

“Now,” I growled, shoving the spare pillow under my ass. I wanted to watch his face as he experienced this for the first time.

“So bossy,” he chided while reaching for a condom.

“And impatient.” Not wanting to wait for him to read directions, I rolled it on him and slicked him up. “Go slow at first.”

“I can do that.” Shifting to kneel between my legs, he lined us up and moved at the speed of an arthritic turtle.

“Not that slow.” I rocked my hips upward, trying to chase more contact.

“Complaints, complaints.” In addition to the tease though, he did put a little more force into pushing forward. I groaned as my body remembered how to yield, the stretch intense but not unwelcome.

“Doing okay?” His voice was breathy, and knowing I was having that effect on him made me even harder.

“More,” I demanded.

“Trying. Slow,” he gritted out. The cords of his neck muscles stood out and his mouth was a thin line of intense concentration. “Want it good for you.”

“It is. So good.” I bucked my hips, urging him deeper. “Tell me what you feel.”

“Feels so good. Tight. But smooth and slippery too. The way you grip me...” He trailed off on a gasp as I intentionally clenched harder. “And close. I feel so close to you.”

“Me too.” In fact, it felt like my heart couldn’t take much more, I was so full, the intensity of my feelings for him there in every thrust, every gaze, every brush of our hands. I’d never felt so deeply before or so in-tune with the other person. I couldn’t give voice to things in my heart, yet they were right there reflected back in Arthur’s eyes, which were soft and tender in contrast to the tension in the rest of his body.

“Derrick...” he panted, a world of meaning in the syllables of my name. He sounded so close to losing control. “So good.”

“Yeah it is.” I reached for my cock with my still-slick hand. “Go as hard as you need to. I can take it.”

“Don’t want you to take it.” He frowned, pausing his motions, still buried deep in me. “Want you to love it.”

“I do,” I assured him, painfully close to admitting I loved him even more than this act. And it meant a lot that he saw the distinction between taking and giving, enduring and loving. But I couldn’t burden him with my overwhelming emotions with everything else going on. It wouldn’t be fair to him, so instead I held his gaze, trying to memorize his face in this moment, the flashes of pleasure, the taut muscles from holding back, the flushed skin and shining eyes.

I let my body do the talking for me, moving with him, meeting every thrust, encouraging him deeper and faster, until we were nothing more than a chorus of moans, a concert of bodies striving together, urgent rhythm driving us onward.

“Oh.” His eyes widened, the exact instant his control snapped reflected there. His jaw went slack and his careful thrusts lost their finesse.

“Yeah, that’s it.” I reveled in his wild expression, stroking myself faster now, as done holding back as he was.

“Gonna come.” He made a desperate noise that went straight to my cock.

“Do it. Please.” My head fell back. This was what I’d wanted, my body hurtling away from me, no thinking, only doing and feeling. Even my moans sounded farther away now, the expansiveness of my climax pushing everything else out of my head.

“Yes.” One of us said it, the who no longer mattering, because I was coming, deep body-wracking shudders as I shot over and over. And so was he, hammering hard before grunting and going stiff as he made a low, guttural noise so full of pleasure it coaxed one last spurt out of me. My eyes stung, sweat or tears. I couldn’t be bothered to care which.

“Wow.” His voice was all wonder, shifting to concern as he stroked my face. “Oh fuck. Did I hurt you?”