I smeared his fluid on my hand and rubbed it around my own anal rim, and he kept his excited eyes pinned downward.
"Th-that’s... Director...!"
With my face flushed I threw my head back and struggled to pull my hand away. It was slick because of his pre-ejaculate, but the way he talked, as if it were my own secretion, made my cheeks burn... I wanted to block it somehow.
His gaze turned to me. It had shed everyday calm and was boiling. Whether he missed my wrist or let it go, the moment my freed hand drew back, a fingertip suddenly pushed inside.
"Ugh...!"
I hunched my shoulders at the sudden entry, but it wasn’t from pain. There was no resistance at the entrance.
With one finger joint inside me, he pushed my knees—held together in front of my chest—outward, then bent low and pressed his mouth to mine. Up close, his eyes held something like joy accompanied by a faint madness.
"That’s right. I made it this wet... Because of me you’re leaking like this, soaked. It’s because of me."
Keeping the finger inside, he slid it shallowly in and out while looking between my eyes in turn. Urgent as if searching for something, yet loose like someone wandering in ecstasy.
The strong perfume I’d first caught was mixing with that scent, growing thicker. Like a smell long used, seeped into his skin and under his nails, it rose warm off his bare body where the clothes were off. I flared my nostrils greedily and wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him close, to inhale that scent that shimmered farther away than usual.
He turned his head, overlapped our lips, and slid his tongue in. I took it, now rather practiced, and rubbed my tongue against the wet mucosa.
Below, while his finger kept entering and withdrawing, more of his pre-ejaculate flowed into my anal canal, and from above and below sticky friction sounds leaked out.
I had to face myself wanting something deeper, pressure and rocking that felt like they would break me. With the soft insertion of one finger joint, myself would no longer be broken or reshaped.
He had been kissing lavishly—curling my tongue inside my mouth, rotating it sideways—when he suddenly narrowed his eyes and drew back from my mouth.
"Do you know... how much you’re biting and releasing down there?"
I shook my head, moaning like a sob. It wasn’t an answer of not knowing to his question of "Do you know?" I just wanted to deny it. That I was tightening my own anal ring to demand stronger stimulation from him.
He tapped my lips with the forefinger of the hand he hadn’t shoved inside me and lightly bumped our foreheads.
"With this mouth you won’t even say one thing you want me to do."
"......."
For a moment an expression floated up and vanished on his face, a light complaint like he wanted me to ask and beg for something. I had come to him to ask for help with this... It must have been a very big request....
"Ha... nng."
Before I could dig further into that thought, the finger that had swept a circle inside withdrew in one motion.
"I’ll spread your legs a little more."
By the time he said that, my legs were already parted and the glans was lining up at my anal entrance.
It was nothing like a finger. Just rubbing the smooth glans at the entrance made me breathless with a heavy pressure. Unlike the finger that had slid in all at once without trouble, the thick glans struggled to gain entry.
Before half the glans was swallowed he pulled out and pushed in again and again. Drawing as much of the glossy pre-ejaculate at the rim inside as he could.
"Hh, h...."
From the repeated in-and-out my lower opening felt spread and twitching. I let out a crying sort of moan and raised my arms to cover my eyes.
"Why cover them? Curious Seo Ihyeon."
He gently took my wrists and drew them down, soothing. When I looked up his face, a faint smile hung there, but below, the broadly swollen glans was writhing, parting the mucosa.
"You don’t have to wait until it’s all the way in... I’ll make you feel good right away."
"......."
I couldn’t tell what he meant, and my body trembled slightly with fear and expectation, the hole narrowing.
"Hh, hh-aah!"
The glans thrust in, prying through the contracting ring. I had only just managed to swallow the glans, but my lower body throbbed as if more than half the sex had already happened. Yet it wasn’t from dryness; it was from the size of him. The entrance was already plenty wet.
Looking down at my pupils, dilated and vibrating in their widened state, he softly wound his other hand around my free wrist. Then he pulled tight toward where our bodies were joined.
An insertion aimed with the prominent glans precisely at the prostate poured down.
"Hh, h... hah. Ugh!"
It felt like lightning striking in my head. Like lying naked in a field while lightning kept hitting. And rain was pelting that naked body. The sound of rain outside the window did seem to swell, but that wasn’t what mattered.
It was different from the feeling of the shaft passing over the prostate when he pushed in to the hilt. It was blatant, direct stimulation. The prostate felt like another hidden sex organ inside the anal canal.
His sex made me feel as if it was having sex not with my anus but with a sex organ, a second sex organ inside the anus, not the penis.
His thrusts—shallow, pressing and rubbing only that spot, retreating quickly—weren’t to press his own sex through deep penetration but to target my prostate. It felt like he was kneading my lower body to pulp.
It wasn’t like the intercourse so far where the pleasure of ejaculation receded and drew near, built and peaked. Strength surged to the root of my penis all at once, and the tip of the glans tingled.
"No... no. Stop!"
"That’s not it.... Be honest, quickly."
I thrashed with all my might to free my arms, but he used even that thrashing as rebound to stab inside me more doggedly.
With my hips slightly lifted off the bed, he pinned my wrists over my pelvis to fix my body, and he was repeating—with unbelievable speed—the precise press-and-withdraw directly on the prostate as if measured with a ruler.
His shirt hid it, but I could sense the quick churn of his hard waist. The rise and fall of those flexible hips slipping in and out of me as he alternately clenched and released his gluteal muscles.
Between the loosened shirt buttons, his broad rounded chest and sharply cut abs were slick with sweat and gleaming.
"Take off the shirt."
"......."
"I want to see everything."
My mouth had gone dry from spilling uncontainable moans I could neither stifle nor swallow. The honesty I showed him through a cracking moan from my parched throat wasn’t a plea to stop, nor a push to let me go. I wanted to watch with my eyes the obscene panting of his hips and buttocks as they pumped, hunting down the pleasure crushing my insides.
His eyes narrowed as he looked down, a satisfied curve to his smile. He let go of my wrists and, even as he shrugged the shirt back off his shoulders, he didn’t stop the movement of his hips.
"Hh, h... hh-ng...."
A moment ago I had thrown my shoulders back as if I would bolt the instant he let my hands go, but even once free I was still offering my lower body to him. The ache that if he just did a little more, just a little, I could reach ejaculation, gnawed at my lower belly with an itch I could hardly endure.
Maybe the sleeves didn’t slip off easily because the sweat had stuck them to his skin; he loosened the rolls he’d made twice at the cuffs. Then he tugged the sleeves free, inside-out, and tossed the shirt roughly onto the armchair beside the bed.
My greed, tracing the beautiful proportions of his body and the firm yet elastic curves of his muscles, must have been plain in my eyes, but I had no wish to hide it, and no strength left to try.
He too, with the muscles of his upper body tensed as if on the verge of explosion and his breath coming hard, let his eyes roam over every bare inch of me lying disheveled and connected to his sex.
Eyes that had pressed down on me thickly suddenly curved with mischief as he smiled.
"Now that it’s off... do you like me?"
It’s not that I didn’t like him with the shirt... on....
"Uh... hh, hht!"
Before I could answer, a rush of fast thrusts scraped my prostate.
Because he never went all the way in, his pelvis didn’t slam hard into my groin, so there wasn’t that bouncing lift of my body either. And yet... when I looked down, his hips were shaking without rest, slipping in and out of me.
Unlike me lying still, only his movement stood out in exaggerated relief, a different texture of excitement from the usual sense of unity when two people seemed to move as one. It was as vivid to the eye as if a camera were brought right up for a close-up of his motion during sex, down to the single bead of sweat on his skin.
Watching, as if spellbound, his focused expression as he targeted one spot, the furrowed brow and lips, the obscene hips whipping fast, I painted my own arousal over the pleasure of my prostate being rubbed.
"What are you... watching so hard? It’s a little embarrassing."
Liar.
I didn’t say it out loud, but maybe he sensed it from the change in my upturned gaze; he planted his fists to either side of my chest and bent over me with a bashful grin. He pretended at ease, but the smile looked a little tense. He wasn’t free from mounting arousal either.
"Hh... hh-uk, h."
When he shifted, my legs—set over his thighs wedged deep to either side of my hips—and my butt rose a little off the air. With only half his sex inside, he drew his hips in a big circle. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his forearm at the vivid sensation of the entrance spreading wide as the rotating penis moved.
When I forced open eyelids clenched tight and twisted, he was looking down at me carefully, face like someone facing a serious problem.
S-l-o-w-l-y, the thick shaft dragged against the inner wall as if scraping along and slid out. My eyes widened.
"Hah... hh-huh... h...."
I felt the glans catch on the rim, and without thinking I shook my head no and gripped his arm hard.
"Ugh. Hht!"
He drew his hips farther back, and the glans, perched precariously at the entrance, flicked free with a snap and slapped his lower belly. The slick glans, coated in pre-ejaculate, sprang out lifting the upper edge of the rim, a sensation that curled my toes. No—made them spread flat. Whatever it was, it sent a tingle through me that my body had to express all the way to my toes.
He repeated the same move over and over. Neither rushing nor dragging it out, but at a steady pace. He went in halfway then slipped out. With the well-defined glans he flicked and teased the edge of my anus. But he never pushed in to the end.
Twice or so I reached the very threshold of ejaculation, only to be pushed back, and with that edge-torment now added at the entrance where every nerve gathers, I was ready to be completely honest and abase myself.
I rubbed my brow and bridge of my nose against his arm that stood braced like a pillar and begged in a creeping voice.
"Please...."
My body, made hypersensitive standing right before climax, wanted to finish the way it wanted. Just as I could no longer climax with the same dry masturbation as before. I didn’t even try to hide my inner wall rippling and the entrance twitching. I wanted him to notice and be aroused by it.
He pressed his hips in and lowered his upper body to kiss the bridge of my nose.
"What do you want."
He whispered on purpose, low as if someone might be eavesdropping on this illicit intimacy. This time, with the penis entering by tiny increments, divided as if by tick marks, I was completely frantic and stomped my feet in the air.
The directions he could take my pleasure felt that varied, and it seemed like there would be ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) no end to the techniques by which he could attack and conquer me. Not all insertions were the same insertion. How is this... are all Golden Alphas this... good. At sex.
"My belly... it, feels strange...."
"Strange how."
The wrinkled brow with clenched molars proved he too was restraining the urge to drive me hard, and yet today he had more patience than a few days ago.
Like someone who disliked or feared going deep inside me, he kept stimulating from the entrance to just the prostate. He had not once pushed his sex all the way in.
"It itches... inside, my belly itches...."
I hadn’t realized it, but I was actually scratching my lower belly. An itch inside that couldn’t be resolved by scraping the skin.
His breath, looking down at me, collapsed rough all at once, like someone had raked it open.
I turned my head so as not to miss the moment his guard crumbled and kissed his wrist where it braced by my chest.
"Please... just, hard... all the way inside...."
It might have looked like I was coaxing and currying favor to get the kind of sex I wanted, but I didn’t care. He wasn’t someone who would look down on me from above and drown in some cheap sense of conquest over this, and he was the only person who could rub the unreachable inner wall and relieve this itch. If I could touch that pleasure right now in this moment, I felt like I could do worse. In fact, compared to the things I’d poured in his ear on this bed, this was nothing.
"How?"
