Page 75 of A Mistake of Worth
David’s hand reached back, fingers trembling, and guided Henri’s cock to his entrance. Then he began to lower himself.
It wasn’t smooth. His thighs shook as he sank inch by inch, breath quick and shallow. Henri had stretched him carefully, but not enough to make this easy. The restraint that had protected him now caught up with them both. Pressure built too fast. His body resisted. Not rejecting, but not yielding either.
His brow furrowed, his breath stuttered. Sweat gathered at his temple as he fought his own muscles.
Marc’s voice drifted across the cabin, low and edged with mockery.
“That’s it. Fuck yourself for us. Be a good little toy.”
David rocked forward, then back, searching for the right angle. He tried again, lowering himself deeper, but the position worked against him. His balance tipped, weight pitching too far forward. He froze, thighs taut, jaw locked.
Henri’s hands closed firmly on his hips. “Easy,” he murmured. “You’ve got it. I’ve got you.”
David nodded, but the motion lacked conviction. He pushed up, then down again, hips jerking in shallow, uneven motions. The rhythm never came. His hand slipped on Henri’s thigh, catching himself too quickly. Frustration flickered across his face, followed by something worse. Humiliation.
His cock had softened, not much but enough to droop, bouncing in an awkward rhythm. His cheeks burned. He kept his eyes lowered, trying harder, breath hitching with each clumsy push.
Henri saw it all. The shame, the effort, Marc’s unrelenting gaze pinning him down. He shouldn’t interfere. He knew Marc wanted the struggle, wanted the faltering. But Henri’s hand still slid around him, curling around David’s cock.
He stroked him firmly, slow at first, then matching the uneven roll of his hips. A clear, deliberate act, done in full view of Marc.
David gasped, the sound raw, his cock twitching in Henri’s hand. It stiffened again under the steady touch, his breath catching less from strain now and more from the arousal creeping back. His body shuddered, but leaned into Henri’s chest, clinging to the one point of steadiness offered.
“Don’t worry,” Henri whispered, low enough for only him. “You’re doing fine. You’re perfect.”
David shuddered, his cock jerking in Henri’s fist, breath quickening with need rather than effort. His weight settled more fully against Henri’s thighs and chest.
Henri’s chest ached. He wanted to tell him to stop fighting for rhythm, to let go, to let Henri carry him, guide him. But Marc wanted the opposite. Marc wanted the flailing, the humiliation.
David rocked again, his cock throbbed against Henri’s fist, hardening as Henri stroked.
Then he stilled, chest heaving.
Marc’s sigh cut the air, sharp and theatrical.
Henri didn’t wait for the next order. He slid his arms beneath David’s legs and lifted him. David gasped, hands clutching at Henri’s forearms as his knees hooked over the crook of Henri’s bent arms. His back pressed into Henri’s chest, his body opened, every vulnerable part on display. Henri braced his feet wide on the cabin floor, adjusted his grip, and drove up into him.
David cried out. The sound cracked high, breathless, when Henri didn’t stop. Thrusting again, harder. His weight pressed fully back into Henri’s chest, legs trembling where they draped over his arms. Henri tightened his hold, keeping him steady, refusing to let them collapse.
Marc made a low, satisfied noise. Henri didn’t look. Couldn’t.
He kept moving.
He drove up into David with brutal rhythm. Not because he wanted to. Though God, he did. Every squeeze of David’s body, every helpless cry seared through him. But because Marc demanded the performance. Violent. Possessive. And Henri hated how easily his body obeyed. Hated how instinctively it fell into Marc’s rhythm.
He despised this.
Despised how good it felt.
And still he couldn’t stop.
Heat coiled low in his spine. His arms strained from the effort of holding David aloft, legs hooked over his forearms, back pressed tight to his chest. Pressure twisted in his gut, tightening with every clench around him.
Henri shifted one arm lower, taking more of David’s weight so the other could close around his cock. He stroked him hard, matching the merciless pace of his hips.
David shattered. A sobbing moan tore from his throat. His spine arched, head falling back against Henri’s shoulder as hisbody convulsed. He came in broken bursts, shuddering, spilling hot across Henri’s hand.
That was all it took.
