Page 33 of Inked Desires
I stroke him without restraint. His heat burns me alive. My thumb glides over his tip, circling gently, while my fingers pump him. The sounds he makes, the way he trembles—it all pushes me to the edge. My cock aches, painfully hard, pressed against his thigh.
Then his body arches, every muscle tense. He goes completely still. The silence is heavy, broken only by the slick rhythm of my fingers working him. Finally, he cries out—a sharp, desperate sound that fills the entire room. He’s perfect, glowing in his weakness, and I never want to look away.
I give him just enough time to catch his breath, but I’m done waiting. I want nothing more than to sink into him and silence my own thoughts once and for all. I reach over him and open the drawer. After finding the condom, I tear the wrapper, shove my shorts down, and roll the latex over my cock. I’m hard as a steel rod, and my balls feel like they’re about to explode.
I grab his thigh, ignoring the surprised sound that escapes him, and hook his leg over my shoulder. This is it. I position myself right at his entrance, sliding the length of my cock along his sensitive skin. Only his boxer briefs still separate us from that final pleasure. His eyelids flutter. His mouth opens slightly, lips forming a breathless sound that catches in his throat.
I break. In one swift motion, I tug his underwear to the side and thrust deep inside him. This time,I’mthe one who nearly screams loud enough to shake the room. Head tilted back, eyes half-lidded, I fight to keep control. He’s perfect. Soft, yielding, and impossibly aroused—for me.
I pause just long enough not to come instantly. I’ve never felt sex like this before. Being inside Andrew, sober, is more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Once I feel the edge recede, I start to move. Andrew’s head twists from side to side, overwhelmed. His soft whimpers fill my mind, but it’s not enough. I want to hear him scream. Beg.
I lift his other leg and hook it over my shoulder, letting me drive even deeper. I want him toneverseek pleasure in anyone else’s arms. I want to be the only man who owns his body.
And it works. His hands clutch at my forearms, nails digging into my skin—but I don’t care. His hips arch into mine, and his cries grow louder as I fuck him hard, relentlessly.
I see it before he does. His body tenses again. He freezes, not even breathing. Only the sound of my ragged breathing and the slap of our bodies echoes in the room.
“Fuck, Ares, I—”
He doesn’t finish. I’m already gone.
Hearing my name in that moment, hearing him give in, so open, so vulnerable—it breaks me. I cry out with him as I come, my cock twitching with each wave of release. Stars explode behind my eyes. My orgasm consumes me entirely. I can’t stop. I keep thrusting, deeper into his heat, until everything finally fades.
Spent, I collapse on top of him. His shirt is pushed up, revealing that flawless chest, letting me rest my cheek against his skin. His heart pounds, matching mine beat for beat.
“That was... interesting,” Andrew murmurs.
“Interesting, huh?” I say with a slight smile.“I could think of a few other words for it.”
His comment might have bruised my ego, but I don’t care. Iheardandfeltwhat I did to him.
Carefully, I pull out of him, savoring the final shivers of his warmth before pressing a kiss to his forehead.“I’ll throw the condom away,” I say as I get out of bed and leave the room.
I expected it to be amazing—and somehow, I’m still surprised. It was more than anything I’ve ever known. More than anything I’ve ever had. He gave himself to my touch with such raw intensity. Just thinking about it makes me want him all over again.
I toss the condom into the small bin next to the toilet. I rinse off at the sink, washing away the traces of cum and latex. But I don’t linger. It’s not exhaustion calling me back to bed—it’s him.
In the doorway, I stop and take him in. Half-naked, lying in my sheets, basking in the aftermath. I love this sight. Maybe too much.
“You still think you’re just a replacement to me?”
Andrew looks up, props himself on his elbows, and shrugs.“Maybe. Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I belong to you.”
I move closer to the bed, warmth stirring in my gut.“Forget the other men, Andrew,” I growl.
I can’t stop this jealousy boiling inside me. I know it’s too soon to say that—but the thought alone drives me crazy.
His body tenses. He pulls down his shirt and slips his legs out from under the blanket to sit on the edge of the bed.“That’s not for you to decide,” he mutters.
I grab his arm. He flinches, eyes wide, and stares at me with fear.
“You’re afraid of me,” I say, the realization sinking in hard.
He clenches his jaw, trying to hide it, but I see the panic. It’s obvious—my touch scared him.
“Is that what he did to you?” I ask, bitter.“He hit you when you looked at other men?”
