The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I don’t want to second guess him and undermine his confidence, but I also don’t want to push him too far.
Michael faces me fully and curves a hand around the side of my neck. “I want this.” He kisses me, and there’s that boldness again—he pushes my lips apart, explores my mouth, teases my tongue. Then he touches his forehead to mine. “I’m okay. I promise.”
I hesitate but finally nod. “Turn around.”
Another shiver runs through him, and he grins. After one long, knee-shaking kiss, he turns around.
Heart thumping, I run my hand over his beautiful ass and up his narrow waist. The thought of being inside him is more than enough to send my body temperature soaring.
I put some lube on my fingers first. As I press my fingertip against him, he exhales slowly, and he curses under his breath.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just really, really want you to fuck me. Like, now.”
I grin. “I will. After I tease you a little.”
“Fucker,” he mutters.
I laugh, and some of the tension in my neck and shoulders eases—his sense of humor is intact, so maybe he really is ready for this.
I tease his anus with a lubed fingertip. He groans and lets his head fall forward. Teasing him drives me as crazy as it does him, and this view is just…beautiful. His muscles, his freckles—I could stare at him all day. The only way this view could get any better is with my dick sliding in and out of him.
“Josh,” he moans. “Fuck me.”
With pleasure.
I gently press my finger into him, but it takes work. Even when we were both doing this for the first time, back when we were nervous kids, he wasn’t this tense. Or maybe I just don’t remember. Either way, he hasn’t been touched in years, so I take my time. He slowly yields to my finger, though it’s still a tight fit.
“Can you handle more?”
He nods. Is he breathing?
“Michael? Are you—”
“More. Please.” His voice is tense too, but he leans back against me as I’m withdrawing my finger, so I slide it back in. I crook it slightly, seeking that spot inside, and when I find it, he moans. He’s still tight, still tense, but his voice is made of pure pleasure.
“M-more,” he whispers again. “Please.”
I add a second finger, and damn, the tension is even more obvious now. Though some additional lube helps, I can still barely move my hand. I keep finger-fucking him slowly, gently, letting him relax, but he stays tight as hell. Even as I stroke his prostate, driving soft little moans from him, he doesn’t relax.
He shifts, and the sheen of sweat on his shoulders catches the light. The ends of his red hair are darker now too. What the hell?
He turns his head, revealing more perspiration on his forehead and temple. “I want you…” He pauses, as if he needs to catch his breath. “I want you to fuck me.”
But are you ready for me to fuck you?
“A lot of this is on Michael, not you,” Ian’s voice echoes in my head. “You’re not fixing him. You’re giving him a safe place to work through the stuff that needs fixing.”
I swallow. Michael knows what he’s ready for. If he wants it, and he says he can handle it, then he does and he can. Right?
“Literally all you have to do is be the safe, kind, giving lover that you already are, and let him do the rest.”
And maybe that’s the key—letting him do the rest. Giving him control so he can call the shots.
I slowly withdraw my hand. “Why don’t I get on my back so you can be on top?”
Michael considers it for a second and nods. We change positions—I lie back, and he straddles me. I steady my cock with one hand and cover it in lube with the other. Once I’m good and slick, Michael lowers himself until the head is pressing against his ass.
As he eases down slowly, I grit my teeth. He’ll relax. Once he’s taken a few strokes, he’ll relax. Won’t he?
“Breathe,” I whisper. “Just breathe and take your time.”
He nods. Exhales. Inhales. Lowers himself a little more. The head of my cock breaches him, and my breath hitches. Fuck, he’s tight.
He doesn’t move. Eyes shut tight, lips apart, he’s still for several seconds before he lifts off and comes down again. This time, he takes me deeper, but every inch is a challenge. Despite being in control, he’s still painfully tight—I can’t imagine it’s comfortable for him. That taut grimace all but shouts that it’s not.
“Michael, are—”
“I can’t.” The words are strangled, almost a sob. “Fuck, I—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. We don’t have to.”
He lifts himself off me, and I exhale as my cock slides out. A shudder runs through him that sends a chill through me, and he releases a choked, panicked sound.
“Easy.” I embrace him gently and guide him down to the bed. Holy fuck, he’s shaking. “Michael?”
“I can’t. I’m…” He shudders hard. “I’m sorry. I’m—”