Orym nodded, a little smile of pride curling at his lips, but it faded as he uncorked the bottle, poured it onto his hand and reached behind himself. It had been a while since he’d had the time and the space to explore this, even alone. The initial finger was painless, easy, and he added a second within only a moment. Then there was a bit of a stretch, not painful but noticeable. He met Ashton’s gaze.
“Do you …” Orym asked, “would you …?”
“I told you you could tell me what you want. What do you want, Orym?”
“I want your fingers, and then I want your cock. I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name and Fearne laughs at the way I walk for days.”
“Gods,” Ashton breathed, “get up here.”
Orym pulled his fingers free of himself, and pressed the bottle into Ashton’s hand. Ashton coated his own fingers and helped pull Orym up to straddle Ashton’s stomach, just under the span of his ribs. Ashton held Orym’s hip with one and and reached between his legs with the other.
Their finger was as big as both of Orym’s, and it circled Orym’s hole gently. Orym whimpered, trying to press back into it. Ashton’s fingertip pushed in, thick and loger than Orym’s, pressing deep. Orym threw his head back, hands coming down on Ashton’s chest to hold on, digging his fingers into muscle, one fingernail catching on one pebbled green nipple.
Ashton groaned. Their finger jerked inside him, and Orym felt their tumb press against his perineum. He pushed back hard, suddenly needing more. “Another,” he gasped, breathing out and relaxing his muscles.
Even with that work, and with enough oil to make him drip, the second finger burned. Orym squeezed his eyes closed, the stretch intense. His breath was coming out in soft whines on each exhale. He felt Ashton hesitate, fingers still inside him but not moving, and he shook his head. It was a challenge. It was doable. He breathed out again, relaxed, and pushed back to slide the fingers in deep.
They pressed hard against his prostate, and Orym cried out, lifting himself up and driving back. Gods, it was so good. He always forgot how much he loved this until he had it again.
“Another.” His voice was so hoarse.
Ashton didn’t ask if he was certain. He just slicked up his ring finger and pressed it against Orym’s rim. For a moment, it felt like it simply wouldn’t fit, but Orym breathed, he centered himself, and it slipped inside.
It was so much, too much and not enough. Orym was shaking, the whines returning. His hole burned and clutched just around the three fingers. It took him three attempts before he could ease back, taking the fingers into himself. He was halfway between pain and ecstatic pleasure and he still hadn’t taken Ashton’s cock.
“Oh,” he breathed, “oh. I need you in me.”
“You can barely take three fingers.”
“Sort of the point.”
“Gods, you’re something else.”
“You have no idea.”
Orym pulled off Ashton fingers, his hands shaking as he poured oil over both of them so he could coat Ashton’s cock with more than enough oil. The sheets were going to be ruined, he thought, and hoped they had enough money to pay for it.
He crawled back, having to rise up off his knees to position himself over Ashton’s cock. Ashton held him up, steadying him by the hips, fingers eased around Orym’s ass to hold his cheeks open.
“Don’t stop me,” Orym said. “I’ll know if I can’t handle it. I’ll stop myself if I have to.”
“You’d better. I only want to hurt you if you like it.”
Orym smiled, or bared his teeth, or both. Whatever the expression was, Ashton returned it, fierce and joyful.
Orym pressed back. The cock-head was thicker than three fingers, catching at his rim and stopping. For a moment, it simply wouldn’t go past, but Orym had managed this before. He had this. He breathed, relaxed, and pressed, but it still wouldn’t fit. He tried again, and then frowning and drawing on all his training, tried one more time.
It pressed inside and Orym cried out, the pain an intense burn, like fire. His hole fluttered wildly, the rim stretched to its limit. He clenched his teeth, leaning into the burn. He pressed back, then up, then back again, each push taking one more inch. Each inch stretched a new part of him farther than it had ever been stretched. The burn spread, heating him up. Then he pushed one more time and that fat cock shoved hard against his prostate. The noise he made was a broken thing, almost a scream.
Just like that, the burn and the pain transformed. They were still there, but their edge twisted into the sharpest pleasure he’d ever felt. He stopped being careful and shoved himself back as hard as he could, and Ashton’s cock sunk in and in and in. They had barely been halfway inside Orym when they hit his prostate, Orym realized with stunned amazement.
Re: Fill: Made to Fit (Rated E) (4/?)
“Do you …” Orym asked, “would you …?”
“I told you you could tell me what you want. What do you want, Orym?”
“I want your fingers, and then I want your cock. I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name and Fearne laughs at the way I walk for days.”
“Gods,” Ashton breathed, “get up here.”
Orym pulled his fingers free of himself, and pressed the bottle into Ashton’s hand. Ashton coated his own fingers and helped pull Orym up to straddle Ashton’s stomach, just under the span of his ribs. Ashton held Orym’s hip with one and and reached between his legs with the other.
Their finger was as big as both of Orym’s, and it circled Orym’s hole gently. Orym whimpered, trying to press back into it. Ashton’s fingertip pushed in, thick and loger than Orym’s, pressing deep. Orym threw his head back, hands coming down on Ashton’s chest to hold on, digging his fingers into muscle, one fingernail catching on one pebbled green nipple.
Ashton groaned. Their finger jerked inside him, and Orym felt their tumb press against his perineum. He pushed back hard, suddenly needing more. “Another,” he gasped, breathing out and relaxing his muscles.
Even with that work, and with enough oil to make him drip, the second finger burned. Orym squeezed his eyes closed, the stretch intense. His breath was coming out in soft whines on each exhale. He felt Ashton hesitate, fingers still inside him but not moving, and he shook his head. It was a challenge. It was doable. He breathed out again, relaxed, and pushed back to slide the fingers in deep.
They pressed hard against his prostate, and Orym cried out, lifting himself up and driving back. Gods, it was so good. He always forgot how much he loved this until he had it again.
“Another.” His voice was so hoarse.
Ashton didn’t ask if he was certain. He just slicked up his ring finger and pressed it against Orym’s rim. For a moment, it felt like it simply wouldn’t fit, but Orym breathed, he centered himself, and it slipped inside.
It was so much, too much and not enough. Orym was shaking, the whines returning. His hole burned and clutched just around the three fingers. It took him three attempts before he could ease back, taking the fingers into himself. He was halfway between pain and ecstatic pleasure and he still hadn’t taken Ashton’s cock.
“Oh,” he breathed, “oh. I need you in me.”
“You can barely take three fingers.”
“Sort of the point.”
“Gods, you’re something else.”
“You have no idea.”
Orym pulled off Ashton fingers, his hands shaking as he poured oil over both of them so he could coat Ashton’s cock with more than enough oil. The sheets were going to be ruined, he thought, and hoped they had enough money to pay for it.
He crawled back, having to rise up off his knees to position himself over Ashton’s cock. Ashton held him up, steadying him by the hips, fingers eased around Orym’s ass to hold his cheeks open.
“Don’t stop me,” Orym said. “I’ll know if I can’t handle it. I’ll stop myself if I have to.”
“You’d better. I only want to hurt you if you like it.”
Orym smiled, or bared his teeth, or both. Whatever the expression was, Ashton returned it, fierce and joyful.
Orym pressed back. The cock-head was thicker than three fingers, catching at his rim and stopping. For a moment, it simply wouldn’t go past, but Orym had managed this before. He had this. He breathed, relaxed, and pressed, but it still wouldn’t fit. He tried again, and then frowning and drawing on all his training, tried one more time.
It pressed inside and Orym cried out, the pain an intense burn, like fire. His hole fluttered wildly, the rim stretched to its limit. He clenched his teeth, leaning into the burn. He pressed back, then up, then back again, each push taking one more inch. Each inch stretched a new part of him farther than it had ever been stretched. The burn spread, heating him up. Then he pushed one more time and that fat cock shoved hard against his prostate. The noise he made was a broken thing, almost a scream.
Just like that, the burn and the pain transformed. They were still there, but their edge twisted into the sharpest pleasure he’d ever felt. He stopped being careful and shoved himself back as hard as he could, and Ashton’s cock sunk in and in and in. They had barely been halfway inside Orym when they hit his prostate, Orym realized with stunned amazement.