Page 71 of Corrupt

Tristan breathed, fully naked, chest rising fast, “How long can I have you like this?”

I crawled over him, kissing him, slow and messy. “As long as you need.”

Then I cracked the lube open with my teeth and squeezed it onto my fingers. There was too much. It slicked my hand, streaked my thigh, smeared his stomach, soaked straight into the sheets. We were slippery instantly. And the heat…Christ. The sun pressed through the glass, turning the whole room molten so when I climbed over him our bodies slid and caught and slid again. Skin on skin. Oil. Sweat. Everywhere.

Then we were kissing. Grabbing. Tugging each other closer as if afraid to lose contact. Rolling, twisting, mouths and hands everywhere at once. I couldn’t get enough of him. He couldn’t stop touching me. The world throbbed at the edges, bright and unreal. One second he was under me, the next I was on my back with him over me, and then I had him again. A blur of bodies and breath, of friction and need, until I flipped him onto his back, found the lube, worked him open, worked myself slick, and pushed inside him.

And fuck…he was so gone. So open. So fucking perfect.

His hands were everywhere. In my hair, my face, my shoulders. As if he needed to feel me in every place at once. I drove into him and he came apart under me, his voice breaking, his back bowing, my name torn from his throat over and over.

“Richie… fuck…Richie…”

Jesus Christ.

Him screaming my name was the only drug I’d ever need.

So I threw one of his legs over my shoulder and sank deeper. Rolled him onto his side. Turned him again. Took him from behind with his hands fisted in the sheets and his breath ripping out of him in broken sounds. I didn’t even know how many positions we burnt through, the whole fucking Kama Sutra and I couldn’t stop. He couldn’t either. And every time I thought we’d hit the limit, he made a sound dragging me further. By the time I had him on all fours, his body shook, head dropped, begging for me without even meaning to. And that had me coming for a second time, as if lightning snapped clean through me.

But I got myself together to reach under him, wrap my hand around him and stroke him until he spilt across the sheets, trembling beneath me. And when I finally pulled out and turned him onto his back, dragged my mouth over his stomach and hips, tasting him, kissing the mess off his skin. He let me move him how I wanted, arms and legs loose, wrecked, trusting.

I stayed draped over him, our bodies sliding together in sweat and heat, rutting lazily against each other until our breaths tangled and the wanting came back sharp enough to choke on. Ten minutes in, I couldn’t take it anymore. Him. Us. The ache between my legs. The one in my chest.

“Come here.” I pushed up onto my knees. Still hard.

He was too, and he reached for me without thinking. I dragged him into my lap and kissed him deep, greedily. His tongue met mine with the same hunger, and I stroked us both until he was trembling again, thighs tightening around my hips.

He dropped his forehead to mine, letting me breathe in his sweet exhales. “We can’t go again, surely?”

“You bet we fucking can.” I slipped a hand to his waist, pulling him tighter. “Come here. Closer. Now. Need to be inside you. Fuck…”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, breath hitching. “Yeah… God, yeah…”

He wrapped his legs around my waist, chest pressed to mine, sliding into my lap as if he knew that was exactly where he belonged, and curled his arms around my shoulders. Then I guided him down onto me. Gradual. Deep. Careful. Letting him feel every part.

The frenzy was gone, sure.

But wasn’t about getting off anymore.

It was about him.

Tristan. Being close to him. Connected to him.

So I eased him fully down, bottoming out, and he shivered in my arms.

“Fuck… that’s beautiful.” The words fell out of me before I could think. I kissed him to shut myself up. Mouth, jaw, throat. Tasting sweat and heat and Tristan. But my mouth couldn’t seem to help it. “God, you’re beautiful.” Then more kisses, languid. “You taste so good.” Another. “You feel so good.”

He rocked his hips, grinding down onto me, kissing me before falling back to give me his throat. I lapped up the sweat dripping off him, desperate, greedy, high on him more than anything I’d ever had in my bloodstream. And he pressed his whole body to mine, arms around my shoulders, chest to chest, as if trying to merge the two of us into one. He then framed my face with both hands, rested his forehead on mine, eyes searching as if trying to memorise what he’d never seen before.

“I don’t… I don’t want this to stop,” he whispered. “Any of it.”

“Then it won’t,” I said, voice breaking in a way that didn’t sound like me. “Keep going. Take what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

And for that moment, it was true.

I’d give this man everything I had.

Everything he wanted.