Kidnapped Ch. 04

"As you wish."

I kiss his jaw and then slide down his body, passing my tongue over all the available points on the way down, swirling over nipples, and into belly button, and delicately down the side of his twitching cock, just lapping up a little of that sweet and salty juice on the way.

I pause to pull his pants down and off, divesting my own just as quickly, so we're both alike in nudity and I can gaze unencumbered at the ridiculous beauty of him. Only a moment, though, because he's writhing in barely concealed frustration, a clear need to be touched and, whilst I suspect taunting him more will quickly develop that sensuality I want to see, I myself can hardly bear to wait a moment longer.

I duck back, delicately lapping at his balls, tickling them with my tongue until he's grasping the bars of my bedhead and lewdly stretching his legs out to give me maximum access.

Fuck. Just incredible.

I slide further down, aching to taste him but unable to resist a little more teasing, tickling the curve of his ass cheek, close, but not close enough for him, as his legs spread even wider. That's it, whether it's for him or me, the need is too great. His hole is before me, tightly closed but practically vibrating with the anticipation that is running through his whole body. I flick out, a quick pass to sense the muscle, feel the ridges, gauge the response. And that is immediate, a deep moan, a thrust of his hips, a begging drawn-out plea.

"Please, Ollie..."

I flatten my tongue, passing it over, again and again, moisture the aim, encouraging relaxation. His body stretches -- hips down, chest up, head back. I want to see properly, but there's no way I'm leaving this cleft right now. I wrap my arms around his thighs, pulling him closer and burrowing in, changing my tongue to a strong weapon, forcing its way inside relentlessly, until he relaxes just enough for access. Once I'm in, he's done, and I flick, using my tongue inside him just as I'd used it inside his mouth earlier.

"Ollie," he growls, "I want you inside me, now."

Oh yes, he's a natural. But he's not getting it all just yet. His passage is so tight, clutching my tongue even as he gyrates back. I have to stretch out this delectable space before I can dream of owning it. I grab the moisturizer, my go to water-based brand since I was a teenager, gay lifestyle choices not being high on the list of necessities in this small conservative town. I can't help but think there's a lot of unsatisfied men and women within the town limits, while I wish I'd brought lube, but then why would I have?

Still working my tongue, I drizzle the thick cream over my fingers, pulling back to apply it direct, rubbing it over the muscle as Seb whimpers in anticipation. I carefully push forward, waiting to ensure he's relaxing around me before I add a second finger, which forces a low guttural growl from him.

"Are you okay, Seb?"

"Nnghn," he nods, "please, Ollie."

I move forward, spreading my fingers inside him, feeling the satin walls contract around me. Fuck, I'm leaking like a faucet, I want to be in him so bad. I think he's ready, he's panting hard, pushing back as I roll one of the condoms I keep in my wallet down my aching shaft.

I slide my fingers away, positioning myself there to replace them, feeling the muscle shrink down immediately, rubbing my tip. Shit, maybe I didn't do enough. But I can't wait, moving slowly until I feel the head pop through, pausing to allow the burn to fade. He's clinging to me, fingers clutching at my arm, my back, sliding down toward my ass, which is poised, waiting for the sign.

"Please."

I'm cheeky: "Please, what, Seb?"

"Please move, I want to feel you moving."

That voice, that lustful moan, tempered with something far sweeter, far softer. I cannot resist it, and I'm not sure I ever will, a sharp realization emanating from my stomach. A lurch that takes my breath away. Oh god, I'm fantasizing now, this perfect, velvety smoothness is stealing my sanity. I decide to roll with it, to maybe see what I can do to steal a little of Seb's too.

I keep sliding, slowly, resisting all urges my body is sending me to slam, to own. He's writhing, bucking up at me, feeling the delicious stretch just as I am, all of him wrapped around all of me at that moment. I watch his face, lips parted, reddened with need, eyes closed as he absorbs me; too, too beautiful. As I reach my maximum, his eyes slowly open, long lashes flicking up as he stares into me. I smile down at him.

"You okay?"

"Uh-huh, more than okay."

That sultry voice, he has no idea just how sexy he sounds, always, but right now in particular. Then he lifts his legs, wrapping them around me, pushing me against him as he lifts, mewling as I pull back, just a little, just to we can both have that delicious sensation of pushing back in. I go slow, at first, reveling in the fireworks the sensation of his body is giving me.

We build up a rhythm, me rocking into him, his hips raising to meet me. His face is something else, gasping, eyes fluttering between closed to embrace everything and open, staring deep into me, seeing my soul. The way I can see his thoughts, which I see lie so much deeper than simply enjoying getting fucked, it makes my breath catch. It's too much, I can't take responsibility for that.

I feel a tear come to my eye unbidden. No, no, no. I growl for him to roll onto his stomach. The connection needs to be physical, I can't have it be anything else, not in these circumstances. The confliction is too huge. Somehow, I know that stopping, though, would be a rejection too great for him to take. I can do this, and then, then, I don't know, resolve it in some way when my mind can think clearly.

I thrust back into him, harder this time, and the high-pitched noise torn from his throat cuts straight to me.

"Sorry, Seb, are you okay?"

Shit.

But he doesn't reply, just bucks back into me, pushing his arms above his head so he can arch up, pressing his ass into me. I lean forward, nuzzling into his sweet-smelling skin, feeling the softness against my face as I begin to move faster, harder, feeling him clutch and shudder against my length. The way he's pushed himself up, I know I'm pushing into his sensitive button, rubbing that gland with each strike.

More force now, I curve my body back and press on his shoulders, pinning him to the bed as I slam now, pushing us both to pleasure. He wriggles under me, and grunts as I lunge, and I feel his muscles ripple, pulling my orgasm through my body. I get a sense of him almost seeming to push me out as he comes, his muscles are so taut, and feel him shudder and relax under me. I'd been forcing myself to wait for him, and now release, swelling against his walls.

I slide out, pulling him toward me so I could kiss his soft skin, when I realize his face is damp. I run a thumb over, slicking some of that moisture away.

"Hey, sshh, what's the matter baby -- Seb?" He doesn't respond, just bursts into soul-crunching sobs, the wracks taking over his strong shoulders as I hug him to me, having no idea how to help him, the misery causing me a painful knot in my stomach. Finally, he manages to speak in hiccups between sniffles.

"I'm sorry, Ollie...I ruined it."

I stroke his back, reassuring him that nothing's ruined, everything's perfect -- and until that moment it had been, for me -- that I just want to help him. He calms down a little, and can finally speak normally, though with a look of such sorrow on his face that I feel like taking over the crying duties.

"When you pushed down on my back, I felt scared. It reminded me of, of...stuff. Of the way Jacob was and of Tom. And then of the way I felt when my father told me I wasn't his son any more. Claustrophobic."

I'm horrified at myself for being too rough, for not reading my partner's responses, but mainly deeply saddened that Seb hadn't told me at the time he felt that sucking darkness of fear, had felt like the idea of 'not ruining it' was more important than the way it made him feel. I whisper reassurances to him, and desperate pleas that he will tell me, communicate with me, understand that I will never negatively judge his needs for safety, stroking his back until he snuggles up to me in blissful slumber like a child, and I gently place him back, onto the bed, tucking him warmly beneath the sheets.