He asked lightly. Below, he lifted his mouth from my chest; a strand of saliva, not yet swallowed, stretched like a thread between his lips and my nipple. He kissed the nipple again to snap the thread, then crawled up to my nape.
Our lower bodies had already been grinding; now our chests pressed together with no space at all. Suckling at my neck, he pried at the outer and inner edges of my lips with his fingers. As a part of him slipped into my mouth, the scent filled my whole body and seemed to melt my brain to pulp.
The sense of smell adapts quickly when a stimulus repeats; it should numb to the same scent. However intense it was, it made no sense that the fragrance felt stronger now than at first.
But I couldn’t think about why. My brain was completely pickled. Unable to think of anything, unable to care about anything—just as he’d said. Even the hyperventilation in the living room, even the pain of revived memory, were blunted by the sheer force of this stimulation.
Both our erections were so hard that any pressure hurt. Each time he ground against me, they sprang aside, glancing off each other. Even that misalignment threw sparks.
“Mmm... haah...”
He kissed along my nape, pried at the inner membrane with parted lips, nipped lightly to pull the skin, then sucked hard—again and again—before burying nose and mouth and drawing a deep breath. Dizzy with the sense that his inhale might swallow my whole body, I took his index finger into my mouth and swallowed it to the knuckle.
He was unusually tall for Korea. Considering our height difference, he easily cleared one-ninety. Naturally, his fingers were long and thick in proportion. Even though it felt deep, I had only two joints in my mouth.
He raised his head and, still braced over me, looked down at me sucking his fingers—curious, solemn, and thick with lust. I clasped his palm with both hands and pursed my lips to squeeze his finger. Still watching my mouth with flushed eyes, he slowly pressed his middle finger in as well. Just two fingers, but once they reached the second knuckle, it wasn’t easy to hold them in my mouth. I struggled, biting down and letting go, and he never took his eyes off me. His wide, heavy shoulders swelled and fell in my view as he breathed.
His hand slid down my side, tugging pajama bottoms and underwear. With one hand pulling, the pajamas came down at an angle. When my sex was exposed, shame finally hit. I grabbed his wrist with both hands and pulled his fingers from my mouth. He kept his gaze fixed on my lips, parting his own in faint regret. Each breath he exhaled seemed like particles of scent.
I turned my head to escape his eyes and clutched at my pajamas, flustered. Even in the dimness, I could see the slick shine on his lower belly and cock.
“I... I’m wet...”
“...”
Had I said something odd? His sudden stillness unnerved me.
Exposed to another person’s stimulation for the first time, my sex had leaked so much pre-cum that my underwear was soaked {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} through. The wet fabric, the slippery cock—humiliating. The idea of laying my crotch bare to him made my last scrap of reason bristle with embarrassment.
When I tried to haul my pajamas up again, he slapped my hand away and pressed down so close I couldn’t slip a finger in. Blanketing me from groin to lower belly to chest, he breathed hard through his nose and pressed with his whole body.
He wasn’t just pinning me; he was rubbing his entire body over me in a slow caress. The pajama top, its buttons undone, fell wider open; his bare skin slid supplely over mine.
“Say it once more. Here.”
He turned his head and rubbed his ear against my lips as he asked. His hips moved faster below. The fact that he was aroused aroused me. I wrapped his head in my arms and breathed giddily into his ear. He slid his face deeper, and his lips brushed my ear. With our mouths on each other’s ears, we pressed chest to chest and revealed our excitement. Shame blurred into the distance again.
“Tell me what’s happening down there. What is it, right now?”
His damp voice made the inside of me itch. He had become the scent itself, pressing me down. That scent rendered all judgment useless. I tilted my head and breathed the truth into his ear.
“...I’m wet.”
“...”
His shoulders tensed, then he cursed under his breath and bit at my ear as if to tear it. His solid thigh wedged up beneath my ass and lifted me, while his hips worked me fast below.
“What’s wet? Why is it wet?”
His breath, saturated with arousal, whirled dizzyingly at my ear. His hips rocked as if he were already inside me.
“What’s wet?”
“Down there... below...”
“‘Below’—your knees? Your feet?”
“...”
“What’s so wet it’s killing you? Hm? Say it.”
I couldn’t resist the urge to whisper the forbidden word. Clinging harder around his neck, I rubbed my lips on his ear.
“My... dick. It’s wet.”
Just saying the word out loud—even in a voice so small only he could hear—made a savage urge to pound my whole body against him surge up. And from him, just hearing that one word, a fiercer wave of excitement rolled back.
He licked up my ear with his tongue and kept working me insistently below.
“Good job. See? Now that you’ve spit it out, it’s nothing.”
Even the praise he whispered churned my gut. I’d said something filthy and he praised me for it. Yet, as he’d said, once the word was out it didn’t feel filthy or wrong; it felt like release. Just hearing it from me, he swelled against me, holding me tight and fevered.
He slipped a hand under my lower back, cupped my ass full in his palm, and rocked me.
“But... that’s not the only place that’s wet.”
“...”
The hand kneading my ass slid into the cleft. His middle finger, as if it could see, found the entrance at once.
“Uh—there!”
His fingertip traced circles around the rim, and at any moment it felt like he’d push in. I pushed at his neck, trying to rise.
His shoulder didn’t budge. Frowning in concentration like a man searching for something, he rubbed around my anus, then withdrew his hand, brought the fingers he’d just used to his nose and mouth, and sniffed, even tasted. I tried to tug his hand away, but once he’d confirmed what he wanted, he looked down at me and smiled gently.
“I’m not going to. I promised, remember? Not if you don’t want it.”
He pressed me down again, kissing the cheek right beside my lips in reassurance. His mouth slid along to my ear and spilled heat again.
“Mine’s the same. Soaked.”
He took my hand and drew it between our bellies. As he said, his cock was slick and slippery. But more than that, the sheer size stunned me. In my hand it felt even more impressive than I’d judged by the feel against my belly.
Maybe it was a Golden Alpha’s innate trait. I don’t know much about other men’s sizes—especially erect—but I knew enough to know that the heavy, pulsing heat in my hand wasn’t within ordinary bounds. My gaze dropped again, shamelessly. He laughed, kissed my ear, and brushed my wet hair back from my forehead.
“Look closely. I like that.”
Shifting his body onto his side, he separated our bellies and chests and drew my hand deeper. My fingertips touched a thicket of hair. His shaft was hot all the way to the root. In the dimness, shadowed by his body, I couldn’t see clearly, but its silhouette and feel told me its weight and girth.
It was obscene. For the first time in years, looking at someone else’s body made me think that. His cock seemed to concentrate all the sex in the world. It felt like a body made for nothing but sex.
The heavy shadow jutted from his groin, angling toward my lower belly. Not just thick and long, it was so hard that even half on his side it didn’t droop; it held its angle. In his hand, guided by his grip, I stroked the length.
“Mmm...”
He savored the touch, a sweet moan humming in his closed mouth. The bridge of his nose nuzzled my right cheek. Letting go of my hand, he slid up my inner thigh and wrapped his palm around me.
I rubbed the head of his shaft along my erect cock, stuck flat up against my lower belly. “Nnh—” The groan tore out of me.
“Keep going.”
He kissed my temple, urging me on. I held him; he held me; like crossing blades, we set the two columns against each other askew. He was leaking so much pre-cum that it ran over the back of my hand and dripped onto my belly.
It might have been my imagination, but the scent felt like it was throbbing between our legs—neither merely sweet nor faint nor perfumed. It stoked appetite, roused lust, boiled the body; a scent that pricked nerves like needles, weighed down the crotch, and sent a tremor through fingers and toes.
“You like my cologne, don’t you?”
Wrapped sideways in his arms, I nodded again and again. With this prolonged erection I was out of my mind. For someone who’d never gone beyond masturbation, even his breath in my ear and the hardness in my hand were overwhelming triggers toward climax.
“Focus only on that smell.”
I’d never felt it this strong before; it was as if I’d spilled an entire bottle by accident. The intensity flooded not just smell but every sense. No—more than a bottle spilled. I was soaking in a tub filled with it, sinking to the bottom of a pool of it.
I thought I was sinking, but my body rose.
He slid an arm behind me and hauled me upright. I was seated on his thighs, knees spread wide on the mattress, my weight cradled by his arms. Even if I’d wanted to brace myself, I couldn’t.
My legs opened naturally along his flanks, and our cocks were trapped between our bellies. One arm crossed my back on a diagonal; the other wrapped my waist and cupped my ass, and with the power of his lower body he lifted me.
His arm yanked me in, compressing my cock; his thighs thrust up, rubbing us together. Each time I started to sink, his hips lifted me again. The close friction was far more vivid than when we were lying down. I grabbed his head as he bit at my collarbone.
Nothing about this was like masturbation. It wasn’t the lonely build and sudden emptiness of finishing alone. It was the friction on my cock, his roaming mouth at my chest, the twist and lift of my ass in his hands, the spreading fingers circling me—
He awakened every cell in my body, made each one shiver. A sharp pull knotted my lower belly, almost like cramps; I felt everything with unbearable sensitivity.
Sex with another person—this was my first time. And I had never imagined I would respond like this.
“W-what... what is this...”
He must have done something to me—otherwise how could I explain the filthy word I’d whispered in his ear, the hunger coursing through my hand as I gripped his cock, the way I was moving on my own, grinding my cock against his belly? I wanted to lay it at his feet.
Maybe I had lost the ability to string complex sentences together. Frighteningly stupid, my mind had narrowed to this act with him.
He met my gaze with eyes that had lost their usual dryness and gleamed wetly, his teeth grazing my chin—no answer.
“It isn’t... cologne, is it?”
Tightening around me, he rolled his hips in slow circles, shaft against shaft. My legs spread so wide my groin was sealed to his torso. Just watching the contact and friction below, the sense of climax pooled heavy at the tip.
“It’s strange... I feel strange...”
Calling it strange, I still pushed my crotch harder against him with my toes braced back. He rubbed his nose along my mouth and moved my hips in a counter-rotation to his, shifting the angle of friction—another surge, another climbing peak.
“If you were... a Beta... then it would be cologne.”
“Hh—hhnn—”
He clamped my waist in both arms like a seat belt and shook me fast, as if wringing the moisture out of me.
“Say something else—not ‘strange.’ Right now. How is it?”
“Good. It’s good...”
I clutched his head, trembling like a washer on spin cycle, babbling mindlessly. I felt like I could give him any word he wanted, stripped entirely of my usual self.
Even without hands, just his grip on me and the pressure between our bellies shot me upward—so tight, so hot it felt like I was inside something cramped.
At the peak I reached with nothing but his strength and the pressure at my belly, the confessions I gasped to him were unbelievable words—about his thick cock and the obscene slickness of everything we were pouring out, in his ear—and in return, the even more shameless whispers he breathed back. For a moment I saw heaven; or a hell seething with lechery. One extreme or the other. This was no ordinary pleasure.
As if to squeeze out the last drop, he half-rose on his knees and shook me, hard enough to be destructive, as scent and arousal swallowed us.
When he laid me back on the bed, I was completely emptied. My body had lost its spine, my bones felt melted; slackness flooded me. I sank into the sheet as if I’d vanish into it.
“I’ll make it so you can’t think of anything, so nothing will matter...”
Just as he’d promised. I could forget; I could get free. Incredibly—by something as ridiculous as sex.
Whether I blacked out or drifted to sleep, I didn’t know. When moisture on my skin startled my eyes open, I was lying on my stomach. A warm wet towel pressed my back.
His still-hard cock bobbed in the dim light. Seeing proof that desire still lingered in his body, the urge to touch it again stirred—but fortunately I had no strength left. Not even a finger, not even my lips to call his name.
I wasn’t sure of my memory, but I didn’t think he’d come. From beginning to end, everything had been arranged for me—centered on me, to make me comfortable. Only after it was over did I understand.
He circled to the foot of the bed and, wiping the insides of my thighs—slick with fluids so mingled they might have been anyone’s—his hand suddenly paused. The mattress tilted; then a warm, damp palm stroked my ass. The leftover spark inside me flared again, but all I could do was hunch and groan softly. I still had no strength.
His kneading hand slid into the cleft. The slightly firm fingertips, like a doctor seeking the cause of a complaint, meticulously searched the valley where skin met skin.
“Mm... mnh...”
His hand withdrew; after a moment, lips touched me. My stiffened back writhed on the mattress. Turning my head to look down, I saw him pressed between my legs, face buried in my ass. The wet tongue circling my anus sent me back into the pillow.
My ass twitched on its own in that prone position. As if to reassure me, he patted the flesh a couple of times.
As if confirming something, his tongue moved with careful patience, then grew more viscous, more overtly sexual as it laved my rim. The persistent courtship went on and on.
He spread his tongue and scrubbed across my anus with the whole surface; then he sealed his mouth over the entrance and sucked with kisses, again and again, before lifting his face.
“This doesn’t make sense... It doesn’t...”
I couldn’t be sure, but that’s how it sounded. This doesn’t make sense, he murmured dully, finishing the wiping of my groin with the wet towel.
It had been a senseless day. I’d once experienced what it meant for a single day to outweigh hundreds. I hadn’t expected to have another. A day that changes the direction, speed, and color of a life.
Someone hauled me mercilessly into sleep.
To be continued in Diamond Dust, Vol. 2.
