Page 40 of A Totally Platonic Thing
But it looked like it would.
It was enough to make me hesitate. Knowledge was one thing. My aching, near-overwhelming terror that I might do something he’d hate, that I could make him cry out in pain for real, was another.
In the end I couldn’t resist. I stroked one fingertip over his hole, so lightly it probably tickled. Chris squirmed a little, making more of those porn noises that set my teeth on edge with how hard they got my cock. His skin felt as delicate as it looked.
I pushed my finger against him a little harder.
The tip disappeared inside, and I felt the clench of him around it.
“Lucas,” he whispered. “Fuck. Lucas.”
My jaw tightened to the point of pain. I needed my hand around my dick, needed it like air. I pushed my finger all the way in, a quick, silky slide that I felt in every nerve in my body. Chris moaned, long and loud, pushing his ass back on my finger, tightening up around me, his whole body trembling.
He was so hot inside. Hot and slick and fucking perfect, and I fucked my finger in and out while Chris writhed and bucked his hips, thighs gripping mine hard and hands clawing at the bed.
Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down my spine. My lungs labored. Fuck. Fuck, he felt… I crooked my finger, Chris’s tipsy, porn-fueled past lectures on male anatomy running through my mind.
His prostate felt like a little bump, the texture slightly different from the flesh around it.
And when I pressed down on it, Chris lost it.
He wailed, shoving himself onto my hand like he’d gone crazy, like he wanted to get the whole thing in there.
I wouldn’t go there, but—I pulled my finger out, getting an incoherent protest, and pushed two fingers back in. This time I really felt him stretch around me, and I could see the rim of his hole get shiny and taut.
Okay, I couldn’t fucking take it. I couldn’t. I took my left hand off his ass and fumbled the button of my jeans open, cursing under my breath, trying to keep up my rhythm, not helped much by Chris thrashing around. The zipper stuck, and I cursed again, and then got it down… I couldn’t wait to take anything off, and I couldn’t switch hands, and I couldn’t stop fucking him with my fingers all deep and hot and tight.
I shoved my hand into my boxers, got a grip, and jerked off as well as I could what with the constricting clothing, awkward angle, and wrong hand, wincing as I pulled my cock up and partway out from where it’d been strangled.
Even with all of that, it took maybe five tugs before my balls went tight and my stomach muscles clenched. I couldn’t suppress my moan, and I came all over my hand and abs and the front of my jeans. The fingers I had in him shoved deep, and Chris cried out, his head popping up off the bed. I blinked my blurring eyes and saw a spatter of white across the spanked-red skin of his ass.
Oh,fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, what had I done? The aftershocks of one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had shook me, and guilty, horrified adrenaline took me into the goddamn atmosphere.
“Please, please,” Chris was moaning. “Please don’t stop, please don’t, I need it, Lucas, please…”
I thrust my hand again, even harder, curling my fingers against his prostate.
He collapsed, shuddering, and his muscles clenched around my fingers so hard it made my cock give another twitch and pulse.
Chris had come too. I’d made him come with my fingers up inside that ass, with my come on the outside of it.
I fell forward, panting, yanking my hand out of my pants to catch my weight braced next to Chris’s hip. I still had my fingers inside him. Very carefully, I slid them out, mesmerized by the way they tugged on his flesh and the way his hole stayed a little bit open as I took them out.
“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” I gasped. “Chris. I’m so sorry.”
He shook under me. For a second I thought he was crying, but I realized it was just the same overwhelming aftershocks that’d hit me.
“Chris?”
“What’re you sorry for?” he slurred.
I blinked down at him. The corner of his mouth had turned up: he was smiling. Relief hit me as strongly as the orgasm had.
But even if Chris didn’t mind—or maybe he hadn’t even noticed with everything else? Surely he’d noticed?
“For coming on you,” I said bluntly. “That was so wrong. That wasn’t—I didn’t give you any warning or anything.”
