Jagged Edge

“Turn around,” I say, and barely recognize my own voice, so thick with need. “Condom?”

He’s already turning, presenting his muscular ass to me, and fuck… “Do we need one?”

Plus side of all that time spent at the hospital? Not only did I manage to shake off the drug addiction—boy, was that fun—and my stubborn cough was taken care of, but all my blood tests are now up to date, too, and I’m clean.

Which means…

“No, we don’t.” I swallow hard, my throat dry. I stroke the strong line of his back, the flare of his broad ribs and shoulders. I grab his ass, kneading, and he hisses out a breath, bending over the table. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“You know…” Raine pauses, starts again. “You’re my first. Never bottomed for anyone before.”

Shit. I stop in the process of unzipping my pants. “Raine, we don’t have to do this, we could—”

“I’ve been jacking off to the thought for weeks now.” He glances at me over one broad shoulder, and gives me a crooked smile. “If you’re up to it.”

I drag my tongue over my dry lips. “Oh, I’m up to it.” I drop my pants and fist my cock, dragging my hand up and down the already soaked length, toying with the silver bar, and wink at him. “Ready to take a pierced dick up your ass?”

He groans, then, and bends over completely, bracing his hands on the table edges.

A new table, by the way. Not the bullet-ridden one. This one is wooden, and solid, and perfect for today’s activities.

I stroke the curve of his ass, press my thumb into his opening and massage him open. He grunts and pushes back. He did a great fucking job of oiling himself. Pulling out my thumb, I push inside two fingers, stroking deep.

“Jase, damn…” He’s rocking, humping the table, and I have to count backward from fifty to stop myself from coming all over his back. I stroke some more, watching him writhe, then crook my fingers to nail his prostate, and feel him jerk. “Fuck, oh God!”

“Almost ready for me,” I whisper in his ear. I press again against his prostate, and he moans, pressing back. I add another finger, and he tenses. “Relax. It will be good.”

He lets out a breath, and I push the three fingers in and out of him, until he starts rocking again. “Now, Jase. Now.”

Yeah. I drag my fingers out, and gripping my cock, push into him. Slowly, inch by inch, I sink into his heat, and he moans long and deep, his knuckles turning white where he’s gripping the table.

Fuck, the pressure. It’s fucking unbelievable. I push until I’m seated inside him to the balls, then draw back a little, just to slam back inside.

He cries out, his ass clenching so hard around my dick I can’t breathe for a while. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s too tight.

Too perfect.

Neither one of us will last like this. It’s just off the fucking charts. So I start fucking him in earnest, gripping his hips and thrusting into him, deep strokes, then fast shallow ones, then deep again until he’s moaning my name.

That’s it. I’m drunk on his body, his scent, his sounds of pleasure. I’ve never loved anyone like this, with no boundaries, no limits. As we move together, rocking against the table, I shove the thought to the back of my mind and focus on him.

Reaching around him, I find his weeping cock and stroke it in time to my thrusts. My leg aches dully, but I don’t give a damn. His body tightens, his breath hitches, and I kiss the back of his neck as he jerks and comes all over the table.

That snaps the last thread of my control, and I curse as I spill deep inside of him, the pleasure drowning me, my vision going white, then black from the force of my release.

“Goddammit, Raine.” The aftershocks rock me as his ass clenches again, and I spill some more. “You wanna kill me?”

“Damn you,” he pants. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

I smile against his back. “I think I have an idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around his middle, haul him back against me and whisper in his ear, “And I love you, too.”

Lullabies

Lullabies inspired and adapted from Mother Goose's Melody (London, c. 1765)