I stayed over him, weight settled between his thighs. My mouth traced the line of his jaw, slow now, almost careful, while my cock rested heavy against his. Jamie’s breathing was still uneven. His hands stayed on my shoulders, fingers flexing like he didn’t know whether to pull me closer or just hold on.
“Tell me what you want,” I said against his skin.
He swallowed. “You. Like this. Don’t stop.”
I lifted my head enough to look at him. “Not good enough. Be specific.”
A flush rose under his already-flushed cheeks. “I want you to keep me here. Under you. I want you to decide.”
The words landed in that space of my brain , exactly where the week of distance and the low burn of jealousy had been waiting. I kissed him once, deep and deliberate, then reached for the lube on the nightstand.
I didn’t rush. I coated my fingers thoroughly, then sat back on my heels between his spread legs. Jamie watched every movement. I ran one slick finger down the length of his cock, over his balls, and further back, circling his hole without pressing in. He twitched.
“Stay still,” I said.
He did.
I pushed the first finger in slowly, watching his face the entire time. His ring closed around me. I worked it deeper, curling just enough to make his breath catch, then added a second. Jamie’s head pressed back into the pillow. His cock lay hard against his stomach, untouched, leaking a thin thread onto his skin.
I fucked him with my fingers in long, measured strokes, twisting, scissoring, finding the angle that made his thighs tense. Every time his hips tried to lift I pressed them down with my free hand.
“Don’t move unless I tell you.”
“Okay,” he breathed.
I kept the rhythm steady and unhurried, stretching him open while my other hand stayed flat on his lower stomach, pinning him.
I can never enough of the look of pleasure on a guy's face when his most intimate area is stimulated.
Jamie’s eyes stayed on mine, dark and open. When I brushed his prostate he made a broken little noise and his cock jerked, but he didn’t lift his hips again.
I added a third finger. He took it with a long exhale, body softening around the intrusion. I worked him thoroughly, in and out, slow and deep, until his hole was slick and yielding and his thighs were trembling from the effort of staying still.
Only then did I pull my fingers free. Jamie made a small sound of emptiness.
I slicked my cock, lined up, and pushed in with the same deliberate control. Inch by inch, watching his face, feeling every tight muscle as he opened for me. When I was balls deep I stayed there, fully buried, hips pressed hard against his ass, and didn’t move.
Jamie’s hands tightened on my arms. “Please—”
“Not yet.”
I leaned down and took his mouth again, kissing him while I stayed completely still inside him. My weight kept him pinned. I rolled my hips in the smallest possible circle, just enough to drag against that sensitive spot, then stopped again.
“You’re not allowed to come until I say,” I told him. “Understand?”
He nodded, eyes glassy. “Yes.”
I started to move—slow, deep strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sliding back in to the hilt. Every thrust was controlled. I watched the way his stomach tensed, the way his cock bounced against his abs untouched, the way his mouth opened on quiet, helpless sounds. When I felt him getting close I stopped completely, buried deep, and waited until the urgency in his body eased.
Then I started again.
I kept him like that for a long time—building him up, denying him, making him feel every inch of the stretch and the friction and the slow, relentless claiming. My mouth found his neck, his collarbone, the place just under his ear. I bit down hard enough to leave a mark, then soothed it with my tongue. Jamie moaned, low and continuous now, the sound vibrating against my lips.
“Look at me,” I said.
He did. His eyes showed his feelings from the intensity of being held at the edge for so long.
“Who’s inside you right now?”
“You,” he whispered.
“Say it properly.”
“You are. Fuck—you are.”
I rewarded him with a harder thrust, grinding deep, and his whole body shuddered. Still I didn’t let him come. I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his cock, stroking once, twice, in perfect time with the roll of my hips, then took the touch away again. Jamie’s hands fisted in the sheets.
“I can’t—” he gasped. “I’m so close, I can’t—”
“You can. Because I’m telling you to.”
I fucked him holding him right on the brink until his thighs were shaking and his voice had gone hoarse. Only when I felt my own control start to fray did I lean down, forehead against his, and give him what he’d been denied.
“Come for me.”
I stroked him in firm, steady pulls while I drove into him hard and deep. Jamie’s orgasm hit like a wave—his hole clamping tight around me, cock pulsing in my fist, thick ropes of cum on his stomach. I buried myself to the hilt and came hard, hips stuttering, filling him while his body milked every last pulse out of me.
We stayed locked together, breathing hard, skin slick. My hand was still wrapped around his spent cock, sticky and gentle now. Jamie’s eyes were half-closed, mouth open, looking wrecked in the best possible way.
After a long moment he managed a rough, quiet laugh.
“That… was not normal,” he said.
I kissed the corner of his mouth, still inside him, still unwilling to pull out yet.
“No,” I agreed. “It wasn’t.”
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