Page 145 of Serpentine

He’s just as desperate to fuck me as I am for him to fuck me.

But he’s right.

His glistening cock bobs heavy between his thighs. He’s enormous, and it’s going to hurt. However, the countless hours I've spent denying my feelings for him, trying to convince myself that I don't desire him, all while fantasizing about him in private moments, have left me yearning to surrender. To feel.

He removes his fingers once he’s too worked up to think straight. Shaking his head, he lines himself up with my ass.

“I can’t wait anymore. This might hurt,” he tells me.

“I don’t fucking care,” I tell him.

And I don’t. The hurt will remind me it’s real. That after all this time, all the games, all the sidelong glances when no one’s looking, that this is fucking real.

The tip of him spreads my ass open, making way for the rest of him to sink inside. My ass protests, burns, and aches, but it only makes my cock throb.

I reach down and stroke it, giving it attention.

When he pushes past the tightened ring of muscles inside me, I hiss, breathing through the pain.

Still, my body festers for him.

Begs for more.

“Braxton, please,” I mumble incoherently, jacking my cock furiously to edge off the building tension.

He smacks my hand off my cock. “That’s mine. You’ll come when I let you.”

I breathe and try to survive his glare.

Finally, he moves inside me, back and forth. Slow and steady.

The assembling torrent low in my belly makes my balls draw up tight to my body. “Fuck,” I spew, looking down at where he fucks me, both my hands gripping the bike behind me.

“Goddamnit, you’re so fucking tight, Miles.”

My mouth drops open, my eyes gobbling up every inch of him that sinks inside me over and over and over.

He leans down and captures my lips, his tongue drifting between my lips and curling around my own. He swallows my groan, and I do the same for him.

His hand grips my cock between us, stroking wildly as he buries himself in my ass.

“Holy fuck, you feel so fucking good,” I breathe, breaking our kiss.

He hovers, his face close to mine. “Do it. Call me what I like to be called,” he commands.

I smirk. “You filthy fuck.”

“Fucking do it!”

I lick my lips. “Fuck me harder, Brother,” I coax.

I’m not prepared for how he bends his knees and thrusts upward, brushing against something sinful and stealing my breath.

“Ah! Braxton, again!”

He doesn’t do it, though. He only grips my dick harder, stroking mercilessly with a grin on his lips.

“Do it again, Brother,” I plead.