Page 48 of Full Tilt
When I press open-mouthed kisses to his rim, he gasps—full-bodied, shaking—and his legs fall wider. “Fuck… Brent… I can’t?—”
“You can,” I murmur. “You are.”
I taste him—salt, skin, heat, and something intimate, something that’s purely him. It’s earthy and clean, almostelectric, like the spark that catches on the back of your tongue right before lightning strikes. It’s real and raw. I swear, I could drown in it.
I worship him, and he breaks. He’s vocal—so damn vocal—and every breathy curse, every ragged moan, lights me up from the inside out. His voice wrecks me.
“Jesus—don’t stop… please… oh my God—” His fingers twist into the sheets, knuckles white, hips jerking helplessly. He’s undone. Alive under my mouth. And he gives it all to me—no shame, no holding back, just pure, desperate want.
And I swear, every sound he makes brings me this close to losing it. But not yet. I want to feel him fall apart again, and this time, I’ll be right there—eyes open, mouth on him, heart full.
He nods before I even finish telling him I want him. That alone undoes me a little. The way Camden gives himself over—like he knows I’ll handle him right—there’s nothing casual about it. It’s trust, and it’s loud, even in silence.
I ask, “Back or knees?” and watch him freeze. His cheeks flush. He hesitates just long enough for me to know what this is: not uncertainty but exposure. A kind of shyness that doesn’t match the way he arches into me when I touch him—but it’s there, and I respect it.
I make the call. “Hands and knees.”
He exhales like I’ve just given him permission to breathe again. Like the decision being made for him somehow lets the tension slip off his shoulders. He moves into position.
But before I reach for him, I pause. “Cam,” I say quietly, brushing a hand over the curve of his back, “we should talk protection.”
He glances back at me, flushed and a little dazed, but nods. “Yeah. Good idea.”
“I’m negative,” I say. “Tested a month ago. I can show you the results, if you want.”
He hesitates for a second, then shakes his head. “I believe you.”
I still and let the weight of that settle. “You trust me?”
He looks over his shoulder, cheeks pink, eyes dark with something more than arousal. “Yeah. I do.”
I shift forwards, pressing a kiss to the space between his shoulders. “Okay. Then I’ll ask—do you want me to wear one?”
His voice is low, breath catching. “No. I want… fuck, I want to feel you.”
I swallow hard. My hands tighten where they rest on his hips. “You sure?”
He nods again. “Raw. I want all of you.”
Jesus.
I let the words sink deep, settle under my skin, stoke something low and intense in my belly. And somehow, it’s not just about the physical—it’s about the gift he’s giving me in this moment. That trust. That choice.
There’s no rush. I ask for the lube, and he reaches back to hand it to me without a word. He’s already trembling, open from my tongue, but I still take my time.
Two fingers. Slow and careful.
He gasps, hips twitching back towards me like he can’t help it.
“You’re doing so fucking well,” I whisper, pressing kisses along his spine as I move. “Just breathe. Let me take care of you.”
Then three fingers, stretching him wider. He moans, loud and unfiltered, and the sound lights me up from the inside. He’s needy, desperate, pressing back against my hand with ragged little sounds. Noisy and breathy. It nearly knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Fuck, Camden,” I groan. “You feel incredible.”
“Please,” he pants, voice wrecked. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to stop.” I kiss the base of his neck. “I’m going to fuck you so good you forget how to think.”
