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The blunt press of Dylan’s tip was a surprise. It shouldn’t have been, but it’d been a while since Henri had had anything or anyone inside of him. Dylan had done his job well, though, and he pushed inside with so little resistance that Henri melted into the sheets. Fuck, that felt good. Probably not even an inch, and he could come like this.

“I’ll go slow,” Dylan said, perhaps misreading Henri’s boneless response.

“Yes, good idea,” he encouraged, when all he wanted was for Dylan to push in and fuck him until he was fully seated, balls deep and all two hundred plus pounds of him pinning Henri down.

The gradual pace was exquisite in riling Henri up. Dylan pushed in a bit more, thrust shallowly, and all the while kissed Henri’s back until he went a little deeper and started again. It kept going, the moment dragged on like it could last forever, and no matter how much he wanted to come, Henri might’ve traded that to be trapped here in this bed, in this moment, for the rest of his life.

When Dylan bottomed out, it was like a gut punch. Henri gasped and thrust down and back up, undone by the feeling of Dylan flush against him.

“You feel so fucking good.” Dylan’s lips were everywhere, kissing and nibbling. Even with his body sprawled across Henri’s, his torso laid over his back, he could tell Dylan was bearing most of his own weight. “You ready…?”

Henri was lucky he was, because there was nothing in him that could deny Dylan right now. He nodded and mumbled something that hopefully sounded enough like yes.

“I’ll go slow,” Dylan said again. He nipped at the back of Henri’s neck, rotating his hips without pulling out. Still, he hesitated.

“I’ll tell you if there’s anything wrong,” Henri promised. Words weren’t easy, but these were important ones. He turned his head and sighed at how easily Dylan moved to meet him. Their lips met. Not a deep or long kiss, just a grounding one. “Fuck me.”

His hips began to move. Shallow, experimental thrusts. He nibbled at Henri’s ear. “Can you come like this?” His voice was already thicker than it’d been a moment ago.

Normally no, but Dylan had drawn this out so long that Henri was likely to explode from far less than this. Plus there was the pressure of his cock against the blankets and pillows, friction to fuck into while also thrusting back to meet Dylan.

“Yes,” he said. “But only if you go harder.”

Dylan’s teeth pressed against his earlobe. Not a real bite, only a warning. “Harder, he says,” Dylan teased. He pulled almost all the way and pushed back in. It wasn’t a fast, hard motion—it was too smooth, too deliberate—but it was closer to what Henri wanted. “Like that?”

Henri shook his head. “Harder.”

This time when Dylan drew out and slammed back in, it was a proper thrust. The movement pushed Henri forward. He choked on a moan in response.

“Better?”

But still, it wasn’t enough. “More. I need more. Faster.”

“Hard and fast,” Dylan repeated. “I can do that.”

He did. He did it really well. There was no more buildup, no gradual shift from slow and careful. As soon as Dylan had permission, he let go. He gave in and fucked Henri like it was the only thing he’d been put on earth to do. Henri felt each roll of his hips, relished how they ground him into the bed more and more until Dylan found a rhythm that made it almost impossible to keep track. His nerves were buzzing, his skin on fire because how could this be happening? How could he be so lucky to be trapped under Dylan Everett and getting hammered by his cock?

“Oh, Hen,” Dylan moaned. Henri had heard his strangled sounds in the throes of pleasure before; this was new, a different octave or pitch, like the sounds were being pulled from his soul instead of his chest. “Are you close?”

Henri had honestly forgotten about his impending orgasm. He’d gotten lost in Dylan’s body. Now that the idea of his own release was forced back on him, he realized he was close. Dangerously close, like a sudden breeze could push him over the precipice.

His hands clenched blindly at the sheets—a vain attempt to stave it off a little longer—and he bit his bottom lip.

Make it last forever.

I’ll die if I don’t come soon.

Both could be true.

“Hen? I can’t…fuck. I can’t…last much longer…”

He let Dylan continue for two, three more thrusts before he decided to show mercy on them both. He pushed up onto his elbows to give himself the leverage to push back and meet Dylan. To shift just so and⁠—

“Oh!” Henri gasped, echoed by Dylan’s much louder, “Fuuuck.”

Noises, prayers, curses, they poured out of Dylan as one hand clutched at Henri’s unbruised side. Then that same hand worked underneath his hips and wrapped around him. Henri squirmed as sensation overloaded him. Only a few strokes, that was all it would take.

Henri could feel his body go rigid all the way to his toes. He was wound so tight he worried what would happen when he snapped.