Page 41 of Trick of the Flesh
I take my time with the lube, slicking my fingers until they shine. Then I ease one against him, circling, waiting for the tiny hitch in his breath that tells me he’s ready. He tenses, then relaxes, letting me in.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “So good for me.”
One finger becomes two, stretching him slowly. I curl them just right, watching his thighs tremble, listening to the soft whimpers he tries to smother in the pillow.
I put just the right amount of pressure on a spot that makes him gasp, clutching the sheets, but he doesn’t pull away. I keep whispering to him, filling the silence with praise. “So tight, Caleb. You’re doing so well for me. So fucking perfect.”
By the time I work in a third, he’s shaking, sweat beading at his hairline. But his hips rock back into me, desperately. My cock aches, heavy and throbbing, but I don’t rush. Not with him.
“Tell me when, Caleb.”
He lifts his head, eyes glassy, lips parted. “Now. Please, Miggy. I need you.”
I slick myself thoroughly, every piercing catching against my palm. I line up and pause, hands steady on his hips. “Breathe for me. I’ll go slow.”
The first stretch pulls a sharp cry from his throat. I still, leaning over to kiss his temple. “Shhh. You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re doing so well... Just let me in. That’s it,mi amor…”
The words slip out before I can stop them.Mi amor.My love.
He swallows hard, knuckles white in the sheets. “More. Please, don’t stop.”
Inch by inch, I sink deeper, the heat of him clenching around every ridge of my Jacob’s Ladder. It’s almost unbearable—too good, too much—but I force myself to keep it steady.
“Fuck,” I whisper, forehead pressed to his shoulder. “Eres todo para mí, Caleb.”
He lets out a sob, half pleasure, half something raw, and I know he heard it.
Once I’m fully seated inside him, I still again, letting him adjust. His back arches, sweat slicking his skin. “So big,” he gasps.
I kiss the curve of his shoulder. “And you’re taking every inch. Like a fucking pro, baby.”
When I finally move, it’s slow, careful thrusts, the barbell piercings dragging deliciously over his sensitive walls. His whole body arches, a strangled moan escaping.
“God, you feel so good, Miguel,” he moans.
“Yeah?” I groan, gripping his hips tighter. “Then shut up and ride my cock, baby. Milk me until I fill your tight ass.”
His whole body shudders. “Yes—fuck, yes?—”
I reach under, stroking his cock in time with my thrusts, wringing cries from him that sound half-broken, half-ecstatic.
“Don’t stop,” he pants. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
“I won’t,” I swear, stroking him fast, matching the pace of my thrusts. “I’ve got you. Always.”
That’s all it takes. He comes hard into my fist, body clenching around me, milking me until I can’t holdback. My release tears through me, spilling deep inside him with a groan I bury in his neck.
For a long moment, all I can do is hold him there, chest to his back, both of us shaking. Then I ease out of him carefully, kissing his back when he winces at the loss. “Shh, I’ve got you.” I grab a towel and clean him meticulously, murmuring praise the whole time. “So good. You did so well, baby.”
He watches me through glassy eyes, like he can’t believe I’m still touching him softly after all that. I slide into bed beside him, pulling him against me. He curls into my chest immediately, still trembling faintly.
“You okay?” I ask, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead.
“Better than okay,” he whispers. His voice cracks, raw. “I’ve never felt—” He cuts himself off, burying his face in my chest.
I kiss his hair. “You don’t have to say it. Just let me hold you.”
And I do. I keep him tucked tight in my arms, stroking his back until his breath evens out.
