ALEXANDER
I reached for the lube, popped the cap, and turned back to him. Those pretty hazel eyes were wide and glassy, pupils blown, his small pink mouth still swollen and wet from the kiss I'd just devoured him with. I remembered my own rule, no kissing unless necessary—and for half a second the thought flickered: was that necessary?
Yes. It was fucking necessary.
I shoved the rule aside like trash and focused on the man sprawled beneath me. Chest heaving, skin flushed from throat to nipples, cock leaking against his flat stomach. He looked nervous. Too nervous. Like this really might be the first time anyone had ever been inside him.
Impossible. He was twenty-five. Pretty. Submissive as hell. Someone had to have fucked him before.
Right?
"Relax," I murmured, drizzling lube straight down his crack.
"I… I'm relaxed," he lied, voice shaking.
"Relax," I repeated, firmer this time.
He took a deep breath, exhaled shakily. Good boy.
I let the lube dribble down his smooth crack. Another thing I'd noticed—he was completely hairless, shaved or waxed or naturally smooth. The sight of his pink hole glistening under the low lamp made my cock twitch painfully against my still-buttoned trousers. I rubbed the lube around the puckered entrance with slow circles, watching it wink and flutter under my touch like it was begging already.
Then I pressed the tip of one finger inside.
He groaned and clenched hard around me. Too tight. Almost painfully tight.
I looked up at his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, brows pinched, lips parted on a pained little sound.
"Try to relax," I told him, voice low but steady. "Push out against me."
He whimpered, nodded, and tried. The muscle gave a fraction. I slid the finger deeper—slow, careful despite the ache in my cock.
Fuck.
He was impossibly tight. Hot. Gripping. If he felt this constricting around one finger, how the hell was I going to get inside him without splitting him open?
Christ. He was strangling my finger already.
I added a second one slowly. He groaned again, louder, hips twitching like he couldn't decide whether to pull away or push back.
I added more lube, drizzled it directly over where we were joined—and worked the finger in and out, slow scissoring motions to loosen him. He groaned again, hips jerking, hands fisting the sheets.
I watched his face, my hooded, lust-filled eyes never leaving his expressions. The way his brows drew together, the way his mouth fell open when I crooked my finger and found that spot.
I pressed against his prostate.
Dashielle jerked hard, a sharp moan ripping out of him, back arching off the mattress.
I smirked. "What?"
He panted, eyes flying open, wide with surprise and something close to shock. "Th-that, oh god… "
I pressed again, firmer and he let out another broken moan.
"Found it," I said, voice rougher now.
I added a third finger. He hissed, thighs trembling, hole clenching down so tight I had to pause and add more lube. I worked them deeper, scissoring, stretching, hitting that spot over and over until his moans turned high and desperate, hips rocking back onto my hand without shame.
"You're so fucking tight," I muttered, more to myself than him.
He cried out, head thrashing on the pillow.
I fucked him with them, fast now, relentless, curling into his prostate on every thrust. Wet sounds filled the room—lube, skin, his slick hole taking me greedily. His cock leaked steadily onto his stomach, untouched and throbbing.
"Look at you," I said, voice rough. "Moaning like a little slut already. Eyes wide, surprised you like it this much."
He slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling another cry.
I yanked his hand away.
He whimpered.
I pulled all three fingers out with a wet pop.
He moaned at the emptiness, a loud, needy sound then slapped his hand over his mouth again like he was ashamed.
I smirked wider.
"Don't worry, pretty boy. I'm going to feed you something much better."
His cheeks went nuclear. He covered his face with both hands.
"Don't say things like that," he mumbled, mortified.
I straightened, finally reaching for my belt.
"Why not?" I asked as I unbuckled, pulled the leather free, shoved my trousers and boxers down in one motion. My cock sprang out, thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. "It's going to be pounding you soon enough."
His ears went redder than I'd ever seen them. He peeked through his fingers, eyes going huge when he saw me.
I wrapped my hand around my length, and stroked once, slow, and deliberate, watching his gaze follow every movement.
He licked his lips unconsciously.
I nudged the head against his slick, wet hole, rubbing, teasing, not pushing in yet.
Dashielle pulled his hands from his face and looked down.
His eyes widened even more.
"You're… so big," he blurted, voice cracking.
I laughed, filled with genuine amusement.
Then I pushed in.
Just the head.
"Ughhh," He groaned, his head shaking on the pillow.
He shook his head frantically. "It'll tear—no—you're too big…"
"What?" I taunted, grinning like the degenerate I was.
He whimpered. "Please, slow…."
I gritted my teeth. He was so god-damned tight—hot, silky, gripping the head like he never wanted to let go.
"Relax," I ordered again.
He shook his head. "No, no, it hurts, take it out…"
I looked down at him, flushed, teary, trembling and nodded once.
"Okay."
I pretended to pull out, easing back just enough to make him think I was listening.
Then I slammed forward, all ten thick inches burying inside him in one brutal thrust.
Dashielle screamed.
I groaned low in my throat, the sound ripped out of me. He was impossibly tight, hot, fluttering around me like he was trying to snap off my cock.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. His nails dug into my shoulders.
I opened my eyes, saw him crying, chest heaving, lips trembling.
"Shhh," I murmured, almost soft. "There was no other way."
He looked up at me eyes glassy, hurt, and betrayed.
"You big-dicked monster," he choked out. "It hurts."
I almost laughed.
Then I glanced down.
There was a small smear of blood on my cock where we were joined.
He'd torn just a little.
The sight sent a fresh wave of dark, possessive desire through me.
Like I'd just deflowered him.
Like I was the first, the only one to ever be inside him.
Something clicked.
I looked back at his face.
He'd stopped crying. Just stared at me, lips wobbling.
"This isn't your first time, right?"
His lips trembled harder. He looked away.
I grabbed his jaw and turned his face back to mine.
"Answer me."
Tears clung to his lashes.
"Yes," he whispered. "It's my first time."
I swore under my breath.
"Fuck. Why didn't you tell me?"
"What's the point?" he sniffled. "You wouldn't have cared, Just… continue."
He was right.
I wouldn't have.
But now, looking down at where we were joined, his blood on my cock, his tight hole stretched around me, his tear-streaked face, I felt something primal snap into place.
I was the first.
The only.
I pulled out slowly, watching him wince, feeling every inch drag against his walls.
Then I pushed back in, slow this time, careful, letting him feel every ridge, every vein.
He whimpered, but the sound was less pained now.
"Better?" I asked.
I did it again.
And again.
Slow. Deep. Controlled.
His hands came up, clutching my shoulders.
"Um… you can go faster," he whispered.
I grinned.
"Finally."
I pulled out almost all the way—then slammed back in, nailing his prostate.
Dashielle moaned loudly, head tilting back, throat exposed.
I set a brutal rhythm, hard, fast, rough. Skin slapped against skin, wet and obscene. The bed creaked under us. His moans filled the air.
"You look so innocent," I taunted, voice rough, hips snapping forward. "But I should have known you'd be a slut for cock."
He whimpered, nails digging into my back.
"Does it feel good, hubby?" I taunted, punctuating each word with a hard slam. "Does my cock feel good stretching this tight little virgin hole?"
"Yessss, yes, yes, feels good—"
I flipped him over in one rough motion, face down, ass up and grabbed his slim hips hard enough to bruise, and pounded into him.
"Ahhhhhh," He screamed into the pillow.
I held his hips in a bruising grip, pounding into him—deep, punishing strokes that rocked the bed against the wall. Skin slapped skin. Wet, filthy sounds. His moans turned into continuous, broken cries.
Every thrust punched a scream out of him. The bed creaked violently. His hands scrabbled at the sheets.
"Fuck," I groaned, watching myself disappear inside him over and over. "Look at you, taking it so well. So tight. So fucking perfect."
He pushed back against me, desperate, and needy.
"Take it," I growled. "Take every fucking inch like the good boy you are."
I leaned over him, chest to his back, one hand wrapping around his throat.
He pushed back onto me like he couldn't get enough, ass clenching around my cock every time I bottomed out, greedy little hole sucking me in deeper like it was starving. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, loud and filthy, bedframe knocking against the wall in a steady, violent rhythm.
I wrapped my hand around his throat from behind, fingers curling just under his jaw, squeezing enough to make his next moan come out strangled and high.
"Fuck," I growled against his ear. "Listen to you. Screaming like a whore already."
He let out a broken "Ahhh!" as I slammed in harder, hips snapping forward with enough force to jolt his whole body up the mattress.
I brought my other hand down, sharp slap across one cheek.
He yelped, hole fluttering wildly around me.
Another slap, harder. The sound cracked through the room. His ass bloomed pink under my palm.
"Again," he gasped, voice wrecked. "Please…"
I spanked him twice more in quick succession, each one making him cry out louder, body jerking forward then back onto my cock like he couldn't decide whether to run or beg for more.
I forgot myself.
One hand slid up into his soft, messy hair, fisting tight at the roots. I yanked his head back, hard, arching his spine, exposing the long line of his throat while I railed him mercilessly.
His scream turned raw, desperate.
"Ahhhhh—god—yes—pull—pull harder…!"
The sound snapped something in me.
I fucked him faster, deeper, hips pistoning like I was trying to break him in half. My grip on his hair tightened until tears streamed down his cheeks again, mixing with sweat. His moans became continuous, broken wails—high-pitched, slutty, shameless.
And then…
His whole body locked.
No hands on his cock. No warning.
He came hard, screaming my name so loud it echoed off the walls.
"Alexander—fuck—coming—coming—!"
His hole clamped down like a fist, spasming rhythmically around me, milking me as ropes of cum splattered the sheets beneath him.
Untouched. Hands-free. Just from my cock pounding his prostate and my hand in his hair.
I groaned, low and feral.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I rasped, watching him shake through it. "Look at you. Coming like a perfect little slut just because I pulled your hair."
I didn't let him come down.
I pulled out, watching his hole gape and flutter, red and swollen and dripping with lube and my precum.
Then I flipped onto my back, dragging him with me.
"Ride me," I ordered, gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks.
He looked dazed, but he straddled me on shaking legs, eyes glassy, cheeks streaked with tears and sweat. His cock was still half-hard, flushed dark, cum smeared across his stomach.
He lined himself up slowly, trembling and sank down.
The head popped past his rim.
"Yesss," He moaned, his head falling back.
I gripped his hips, guiding him, but he took over.
He rolled his hips once, testing then started riding me like he'd been born for it. Slow at first, then faster, grinding down hard, taking every thick inch until his ass was flush against my pelvis.
"Fuck," I hissed, head falling back against the headboard. He felt obscene, tight, hot, slick, milking me with every rise and fall.
He leaned forward, hands braced on my chest, hips snapping faster now, chasing his own pleasure again. His moans turned into continuous, filthy little cries.
I reached up, pinched one nipple hard between my fingers, rolled it, tugged.
He arched, keening.
I leaned in and took the other into my mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing.
"Ahh…Alex—!"
He lost rhythm for a second, hips stuttering, then found it again—wilder, needier.
I switched to the other nipple, biting down just enough to make him sob, then soothed it with my tongue.
He was riding me like a natural now, ass bouncing, thighs flexing, hole gripping me so tight I could barely think.
I grabbed his waist, slammed him down harder on every upstroke, meeting his movements with brutal upward thrusts.
Our mouths crashed together—messy, desperate, all teeth and tongue. He moaned into the kiss, loud and shameless, fingers digging into my shoulders.
I fucked up into him mercilessly, hitting that spot over and over until he was shaking apart again, crying against my lips.
"Come again," I growled into his mouth. "Come on my cock like the greedy little thing you are."
He did, screaming into the kiss, body locking up, hole spasming so hard it dragged my own orgasm out of me.
I slammed up once—twice—then buried myself deep and came with a guttural groan, flooding him until it leaked out around my cock and down my balls.
He collapsed onto my chest, shaking, panting, wrecked.
I didn't push him off.
For once, I let him stay sweaty, trembling, cum-slick, my hand stroking lazily through his hair while our breathing slowly synced.
No words.
Just the sound of his heartbeat against mine.
And the dark, possessive certainty that no one else would ever get this.
Ever