Grace for Drowning

Logan's free hand had slipped down to his cock and was sliding gently up and down as he played with me. It was an incredible sight watching this glorious man pleasure himself while he pleasured me.

Eventually, he drew a sharp breath and rose to his feet. "Fuck, I can't take this." He disappeared into the bathroom momentarily and returned with a condom. It took only moments for him to tear it open and stretch it over his length, but that was moments too long.

Sliding close and lifting my calves to lie on his shoulders, he brought his swollen head to rest tantalizingly against my cleft. "Last chance." Even through the desire, I could hear a note of concern in his voice. I can't tell you how much I appreciated that. Even now, in the height of his passion, he was looking out for me. He was so much more than he seemed, powerful and dangerous, but also tender and caring.

"I want this. I want you." There was no hesitation. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I didn't just want him. I needed him.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

I gasped as he pushed inside me. It had been a long time, and he was so big, my body struggled to accommodate to that immense pressure. He began rocking back and forward, easing himself deeper and deeper, until he'd buried himself all the way to the root. The initial sting gave way to a glowing warmth that seemed to flow out from between my legs, enveloping my entire body.

"Fuck your pussy is tight," he said, his voice deep and heavy.

I felt myself blushing, although there was a frisson of excitement too. Nobody had ever talked to me like that before. It should have sounded corny, but in the heat of the moment it was incredibly sexy.

"That's because you're so damned big," I replied, trying my best to play along. I half expected it to make him laugh, but it only seemed to spur him on. He pulled his shaft all the way free, leaving a desperate emptiness behind, but then with a massive thrust of his hips he rammed himself back inside, drawing a sharp cry from my mouth.

He began taking me harder, leaning forward until his hands found mine, pinning me to the mat and driving me into the ground with each powerful stroke. My legs were pushed down toward my shoulders, curling me over like a contortionist, and the shift in angle sent intense bursts of pleasure through my stomach as he struck some exquisite new place inside me. Never before had I been so aware of the power of his body. I could feel it vibrating through him with every thrust, that raw strength that seemed like it could break the world in two.

His breath was coming sharp and fast now, punctuated by animal grunts as he forced himself deeper and deeper. I felt like I was unraveling, like I was coming apart at the seams. There was nothing between us. He filled me; the pressure of him, the heat, that delicious earthy smell. The world faded to black around us.

A powerful ecstasy was building in my core, trembling and thrashing like a caged animal trying to break free. I wanted to beg him to slow down. This couldn't end so fast. As lost as I was in the moment, some tiny part of me still knew what waited on the other side. But I couldn't find the words. My body had a mind of its own.

"Oh God," I cried. "I'm coming."

With unbridled ferocity, he pushed me over the edge. There was a flash of heat and then the world seemed to burst. It had been half a year since I'd done anything even remotely sexy, and in that moment it felt like my body had been keeping a pretty good ledger of the debt. My vision shattered and my body buckled as those months of frustration and pain and anger radiated out into the world. It seemed to go on for ever and ever. The sounds that spilled from my mouth were unlike any I'd ever made before, moans that echoed up from the deepest part of me.

My climax seemed to set him off too. A thundering rumble began in his chest and his body stiffened. He slammed himself into me almost to the point of pain, but I didn't care. I wanted him, as much as I could get.

We lay in silence for some time when it was over, as though speaking would shatter the beauty of what had just happened. I could have stayed like that forever, shielded in the crook of his arm, feeling the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. For that brief period, it was just the two of us. Nothing else. No ghosts. No specters of the past. Unfortunately, reality has a way of forcing itself upon you despite your best efforts. With the glow fading and the world swimming back into focus, the truth of what I'd just done came looming up before me.

"Oh shit," said Logan. "Are you crying? Shit."

I wanted to reassure him that I was okay, that this was okay, but I was no longer sure that was true. It was like a valve had been opened behind my eyes. The tears came hot and fast, and that pressure seemed to flow down throughout my whole body, my chest and mouth seizing and heaving. There was this terrible keening sound that I eventually realized was coming from my throat.

Logan looked torn between pulling his naked body away and comforting me, but I took the choice away from him by rolling over and burying my face in his chest. This wasn't his fault. He'd played a part but I'd done this and, however contradictory it was, I needed him to help me through it or it was going to be too much.

He still felt tense, but he seemed to understand, curling one long arm around me and holding me close, while my tears scored little rivulets down his skin.

"I miss him," I whispered, when my tongue was finally my own again. "I miss him so much."

Logan's fingers traced a gentle pattern through my hair. "I know."

"So how do I stop it hurting so much? How do I move on?"

"You don't. People always use the phrase 'move on' in situations like this, but that's bullshit. You never move on from anything. That's what people are, just layers of all the shit that's happened to them before. You don't need to move on, you need to keep building more layers. Tom will always be there, but eventually he'll just be a part of you, instead of all you can see."

I prayed that was true. I didn't say it, but he was wrong about one thing. Tom wasn't all I could see, not anymore. Logan had carved out a space inside me, and it was frightening how fast it was growing.

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly embarrassed by what a basket case I was. "I throw myself at you then burst into tears. That's crazy bitch one-oh-one."

"No, I'm sorry," he replied. "Fuck, I should have had more self-control. I should have stopped."

"I didn't want to stop."

"Well if I'd known it was going to end like this, I would have."

"I'm sorry," I said again, feeling utterly pathetic.