Page 56 of Under Construction

He tries to make his muscles unclench. His mind races with possibilities, but god, he wants this.

"I'm going to touch you here, okay princess?" Chris's voice stays steady despite the tremor in his hands. Despite how is cock throbs warm against Dennis’s lower back with every shift of their bodies. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

The first touch of slick fingers makes Dennis tense up. His hole clenches involuntarily against the cold wetness.

"Relax." Chris's other hand comes around to stroke Dennis’s cock, a welcome distraction, slow and sure.

His lubed fingers work with careful attention—rubbing circles around Dennis’s entrance, spreading the lube with a featherlight touch. Pressing and retreating, each circle bringing more pressure until Dennis’s opening starts to give.

When Dennis’s hips circle in return, the coarse pads of Chris’s fingers deepen against him, catch against the edges of his rim in delightful ways that punch low into his belly.

"Gonna open you up so nice you'll be begging for it," Chris whispers this into his ear, nose trailing behind it before he catches Dennis’s earlobe between his teeth, sucks at it until Dennis shivers. "Not until it feels good though, okay baby? Tell me when it feels good."

Dennis can barely breathe, let alone think. His eyes might be open, might be closed—everything's spinning inside him, stomach doing somersaults. When he finally manages words, they come out breathless:

"I think... I think it feels good now."

Chris's mouth finds his nape, pressing soft, wet kisses there again and again. Then he's easing just the tip of one finger inside, so slowly it makes Dennis’s thighs shake.

The gentleness surprises him—something he didn’t expect, but isn’t unwelcome.

"I've got you, princess."

Dennis clenches around him, suddenly self-conscious. "I want to make you feel good too, not just—"

"Let me take care of you."

And something in Chris's voice—something Dennis has never heard before, something earnest, something certain—makes him nod.

He lets his head fall back onto Chris's shoulder, surrendering to every sensation. Even just half a finger feels enormous.

The stretch burns, foreign and intrusive in a place no one's touched before.

Chris's lips ghost over his neck, vibrating with every gasp that escapes Dennis, whispering soft shushes even as Dennis breaks out in a cold sweat.

"A little more?" Chris's voice stays kind, raspy. "Let me in deeper?"

Dennis tries to spread his thighs wider, forcing his muscles to relax.

He focuses on Chris's other hand, now between his legs, petting the underside of his body. Cupping his balls. Rolling them lightly even as they try to draw up tight and escape into him from the intensity of it all.

Little sounds keep spilling from his throat—choked moans and hitched breaths,ahhs and grunts he can't control.

When Chris's finger finds something inside him that makes sparks shoot up his spine, Dennis’s whole body arches.

The sound that tears from his throat is raw and guttural—it's strange, overwhelming, the fullness both uncomfortable and spellbinding all at once. His mind can't make sense of it.

"There we go," Chris murmurs. "So beautiful, princess." His mouth latches onto Dennis’s neck, adding another mark to his collection. "So perfect for me."

Dennis loses track of time, lost in the push and pull of Chris's digit. Each drag out and press in feels monumental, his body hypersensitive to every little movement no matter how small.

When he bears down harder—past the joint, then a knuckle—taking Chris's entire finger inside, the gasp punches out of his chest.

His upper back curves as his head presses deeper into Chris's shoulder, one hand flying back to grip Chris's thigh while the other clutches at the back of his hand around his cock.

The room falls silent except for their breathing—Dennis’s sharp and shallow, Chris's steady and deep against his back. The minutes tick by as Chris stays still, letting Dennis’s body adjust to the intrusion.

When Dennis’s breathing finally evens out, Chris takes it as permission to move. He works his finger in tiny nudges, stopping whenever Dennis’s muscles clench around him.

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