After the Fall

tonight?” He smiled, and it might have passed for something innocent if not for that gleam in his eyes. “So you don’t have to go all the way up the stairs to your apartment?”
    I put my hand on his chest, barely keeping myself from grabbing a handful of his shirt. “Is that the only reason you want me to stay with you?”
    “Well, not the only reason, no.”
    I grinned. “Don’t bullshit me. This has nothing to do with the stairs up to my apartment, does it?”
    “If I said it didn’t, would you still come home with me?”
    “My place is closer,” I murmured. “And you’re out of condoms, so we’d have to stop on the way.”
    “Hmm, damn. I don’t want to make any stops. Guess we’ll have to deal with the stairs, won’t we?”
    I didn’t answer. I just pulled him down and kissed him.
    And it was really happening.
    And it really was that awesome.

My bedroom was dark, and we were silent. No words. No moans or attempts at cursing. The only sounds besides our breathing—when we remembered to breathe at all—were hands moving on skin and skin moving on sheets.
    Even the two casts didn’t interfere much this time; we had long since grown accustomed to working around them without losing our stride. Not that we were in a big hurry tonight anyway. We were both naked, and hard, and panting between kisses, but everything we did was still slow and languid as if we had all night long to get from here to orgasm.
    “I want to switch,” he murmured after a while. “Tonight.”
    One shudder, and all the breath left my lungs. “You do?”
    He nodded.
    I moistened my lips. “Except I still can’t move much.”
    Ryan grinned against my lips. “Didn’t say you had to move.”
    “Good, because I can’t move.”
    “Don’t worry about it.” He kissed me once more. “I can get on top.”
    I shivered with anticipation. “Before you do, get me some lube.”
    Ryan grabbed the bottle from the nightstand. Then he straddled me, and once he was on top, I had him pour some on my first two fingers.
    I grinned up at him. “Still on top, even on the bottom, huh?”
    Chuckling, he leaned down to kiss me. “Well, when your cast comes off, we can negotiate some other positions.”
    “Hmm, I suppose we can.” I ran my dry pinkie finger up his side to make him shiver. “When I can move and you can’t.”
    “I’m looking forward to it,” he growled, and claimed a demanding kiss.
    So am I, Ryan. So am I.
    I slid a hand between us. He groaned softly into my kiss as I ran the backs of my fingers along the underside of his cock and then over his balls, and when I continued downward, he gasped.
    “If you want to stop,” I said, “just say so.”
    Ryan nodded. He bit his lip as I found his entrance with a lubricated fingertip.
    “Breathe,” I whispered. “I’ll go slow. I promise.”
    “Okay.”
    I pressed a fingertip in. He gasped. I eased my finger in slowly, a little at a time, and when he’d relaxed enough, added a second.
    Ryan’s lips parted. He closed his eyes, twin creases forming between his eyebrows.
    “Like that?” I asked.
    “Uh-huh. My God . . .”
    “Just wait,” I said, my own anticipation bordering on unbearable. “Just you wait.”
    “I can’t wait,” he breathed. “I want . . . I want you to . . .”
    “I will. Just have to take it slow. So I don’t hurt you.”
    He bit his lip, the crevices between his eyebrows deepening. If he was anything like me, he was debating whether any pain that came would be worth skipping all of this and getting straight to taking my cock. And if he was anything like me, he was leaning very heavily toward deciding that yes, it was worth it, come on and fuck me already .
    I slid both fingers a little deeper, and bent them.
    His eyes flew open. His lips parted again, but no sound or even breath came out.
    I moved my hand faster, fucking him with my fingers, watching his eyes and remembering what it was like the first time someone had shown me why they call the prostate the male G-spot. The newness of the sensations, the sheer overwhelming pleasure; I’d never forgotten that feeling, and watching Ryan now, I could almost feel it again.
    “F-fuck me,” he whispered. “Oh my God . . . fuck . . . fuck me.”
    I slowly withdrew my fingers. “Get me a condom.”
    He reached for the drawer beside the bed, riffled around for a moment, and came back with a condom. He glanced down at my casted hand and smirked. “I’m guessing you’ll need some help