nggh…” miles adjusted his position; his legs trembled under his weight, shifting forward slightly. “mmnh!—fuck!!” he strained to find his balance, leaning into the drivers seat with his arms bracing dion’s shoulders
dion chuckled from underneath him—a soft baritone that filled the space between their chests. “relax… relax, miles.” a satisfied grin crept slowly on his face, he bit it back. “you want some help?”
miles made a sound, not a moan—more of a breathy exhale, sounding something like a scoff. the grin fought its way back. “i’m serious, miles.” it was a genuine question but was still a threat that could destory the vulnerability he’d worked so hard to crack out of miles.
miles tried to speak, “s’too much…” the words came out more like a whimper: soft, stuttering, and begging. really, really begging for something.
it was subtle and sudden. like the moment before a grey sky tears itself open—dion felt an almost omnipotent need in that moment—it was akin to a deep. it was deep aching. he knew, without any doubt, that he had an insatiable, carnal need to widen that crack.
it became so clear, all at once: he yearned to see the effects of himself. miles was his canvas and inspiration.
the boys stumbled over themselves.
unintentional shifting. “dion…!!” miles’ hands tightened around dion’s shoulders.
a small adjustmnt. “d…” he was going to call his name again. dion wanted to hear it. he wanted miles to hear it. he needed miles to hear it… because if miles heard it, then it was real. “…fuck, dion… i—“
miles’ felt his legs collapse. his arms strained, his knees caged either side of dion’s waist and his body shifted to accomadate the intrusion that was dion’s manhood.
a shiver ran between the boys, traveling along and upward across miles’ back. “nngh.” he closed his eyes, lolling his head back and arching his back, crumpling into dion.
dion’s body swallowed miles. he caught him with reverence, almost like a reversal of roles. dion received miles, his hands coming to rest on either side of his waist.
they sank into each other.
dion was suddenly flushed. swallowing, he asked. “do you…?” he tried to sound like himself—calm, casual, sedated. he swallowed, “are you okay?”
he sounded pathetic.
miles didn’t move. well, not by choice. “mm—mhm…”
dion bit his lip. “any…” he was begging. “…anything you need?”
miles shook his head no. the rest of his shifted, moving both himseld and dion.
dion felt his eyes flutter.
miles rearranged his body to contain dion’s pulse. it thumped wildly against his core, and pressed against every inch of his heat. the space between them was beginning to disappear—and with it, the pressure between them grew. dion’s pulse pushed against miles and miles’ body resisted.
they were waging war against each other’s entire existence.
dion was being suffocated. his thoughts narrowed and the world grew blurry. his mind focused only on miles. his body, his entry, his position and the softness of his warmth. miles, on the inside, seemed to be everything he was on the outside.
on the outside, he has an addictive swirl of emotions and expressions that sift from sardonic wit, to effortless sultry presence. when you open him up—crack into his center—and find his insides, he’s a compassionate, tender, velvety soft mix of love.
dion head lolled backwards, his irises quivered at his eyelid—stalling for a second before disappear under his lids. “mmm…” he groaned, satisfied with the feelings of electricity running along his center. “god, you feel so good.”
it was a halo that surrounded him in layers of satin constriction.
dion pressed his hands into miles’ waist. “you hear me?” he adjusted his hands and position, wrapping his arms completely around miles’ hips, locking him in place.
there was a breif pause.
then, just breathing.
miles panted—uneven gasps between soft breaths. he held tighter at dions neck and rocked into his knees, laying his legs flat beside dion’s waist.
dion inhaled, squeezing his arms around miles’ waist and pulled him down. at the same time, he pushed his hips up, grinding the space between them to a memory. “o…oh my…” he pushed closer, pressing on the floor of his car and reaching deeper into miles’ core. he trapped miles’ behind his forearms and forced them closer—until both boys felt lightning tap along their veins.
miles thighs tensed. “mmng!!”
dion adjusted his position— shifting backwards in his drivers seat. he rolled his hips down, dragging himself along the space that seperated him from miles.
miles pressed closer to dion, unmoving and silent. but, he was feeling something. he was feeling as much as dion, probably more.
dion’s thoughts darkened. he knew miles’ felt something—the soft twitch in his eyebrows, and the furrow between them told more than he would ever allow.
“do you feel it?”
a pause.
dion felt something rear its ugly little head from the center of his gut.
he tightened his grip—hooking his hands around the opposite elbow and pressing his face into the lower half of miles’ chest—
“miles…” he continued tightening his grip on the smaller male’s waist, “i feel you…” his head curled closer into miles. “feels like you’ll never let go of me.”
—he slowly pushed his hips up. a little at a time. his legs shook—soft tremors of pleasure, ripples of heaven as he fully carved his way into the boy.
“hnng!! mm—mmhm…!”
dion felt his gut tighten with something powerful.
“you feel so fuckin’ good, miles.” he rolled his tongue as he pulled their bodies together, bottoming out.
miles shifted along dion, squeezing his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek with enough force to draw blood. “nngh…mmh.”
tears pricked the corners of miles’ eyes, sitting as crystals under his eyelid, enhancing the beauty that captivated dion, driving his actions—seperating his reason from his instinct. “do you know how you feel?”
miles arched his back.
miles was the only thing dion had wanted.
miles grabbed his elbows.
miles had an admirer all four years of school.
miles shifted his chest forward.
dion and miles met freshmen year in a health science class... dion spoke first—
“i can feel your pulse.”
miles pushed his hips down.
sophomore year and they were friends—maybe friends with a little too much love.
“and the way you’re breathing.”
miles sunk closer to dion.
by junior year, the rumors had started.
“…fuck, miles.”
miles was feeling
in senior year, miles came out as gay and dion finally, finally saw his opprutunity.
“i need you.”
now he had him.
“all of you.”
dion slid his hands across his forearms, undoing the binding he’d wanted to keep miles in until the lines dictating where he began and miles ended blurred into nothing.
“you got all of me.”
miles stayed connected to dion’s neck. dion moved his hands to roam over anything that he could reach. his fingers moved like scavengers in a frenzied hunger—spreading over the area of miles that he could and couldnt see. his hands sprawled under the t-shirt miles borrowed from him in sophomore year, crawling up his back, feeling his ribs, and the spaces between.
goosebumps ran in circles down miles’ torso. dion followed the paths they created and inches his fingers to miles’ chest.
miles moaned, turning his head to the side.
“can I have you?” dion pulsed. “just for today? please?” tilting his head to look up at miles.
no response.
“miiiles…”
“miles?”
dion bit his lip.
he began to fondle miles, holding his muscles at the bottom and squeezing them together, massaging them back and flicking his nipples.
miles flushed.
then, the unmistakable feeling of metal.
he slowed his hands, shifting his hips, and sat back. he looked at miles’ chest closer. there was the indents of dion’ fingers—long skeletal indentations on plush muscle—sitting firm on miles’ chest—built from 7 years of exercise—wrapping the shirt taut.
dion pressed closer to miles, drawing a quick moan. miles sat up from his neck, adjusting the fit dion had establish with slow, intentional rocking that rubbed miles in a way that defied logic.
miles felt his legs tremble under him.
in the middle of miles’ chest was the imprint of his nipples, erect and enticing dion to things he could only imagine doing. but, each had two more projections going horizontal and perfectly straight.
“got ‘em last year…”
dion looked up to miles.
he saw god.
miles was bathed in the dimmed ceiling lights, soft brown ambient lighting and orange led lights—he looked like he was walking out of heaven.
dion leaned forward, “i’m gonna come.” whispering into miles chest before moving slightly to bite his nipple through the cotton.
“aah!! dion!!” the boy gasped at the sudden sensation. dion licked the bud, releasing his teeth to suck and pamper his right nipple with small licks and kisses. miles’ head filled with stars when dion took a bite of his pec, leaving an indenation of his teeth—licking along the bite before kissing it. “g’come soon.”
one hand hanging loosing around miles’ lower waist; he used his free hand to travel along miles’ chest muscle—finding and rolling the bud of his left nipple between his fingers before tugging at it lightly. “hng—ggnh!!”
“i’m your first time, right?” dion began to move his hips—not as a way of finishing but to satisfy a hunger that’d been slowly consuming him. his hips moved sloppily, rutting upwards in a growing frenzy. “i’m the only one who’s seen this, right? all of you? like this?”
the words, muffled somewhere between skin, lust, and heat, landed as uncerimoniously in miles’ head as dion said them; “please tell me—i’m the the first, right? you were saving this for me, right?” really only the ramblings of a teenager finally getting his first love—a string of words thrown together by the high of your first prized catch. “shit… you’re fucking perfect.” his movements continue sporaically, just touching, and reaching for anything. “you’re perfect. fuck… you’re perfect… perfect. fuck.”
he continued rutting into miles, rolling his hips and spine to reach as deep as possible—rocking upwards into him on the occasion that he’s coherent enough to think.
miles feels himself tipping towards his edge but repeatedly missing the spot he had been silently begging dion to caress with each thrust. “mmh! …dion.” he begged, almost whining for something he hadn’t fully figured out.
dion had released his nipples, staring at miles’ shirt with a sedated annoyance.
miles moved his hips, grinding against dion—still unable to quench his thirst. “hmm…! fuck me…” a whisper, barely audible over the smacking of their skin. miles moves harder, trying to keep his balance, using his knees and leaning forward, pressing into dion.
dion pressed back, moving his arms to wrap around miles’ lower body and reaching for the hem of his shirt. “off…” he lifts his hips and tries to lift the shift off miles.
miles and dion work against one another as a push and pull—miles pushing against dion’s chest, pushing his hips into dion’s and riding him for the first time. “fuck… yes…” he places his hands on the headrest and grinds against dions trust, moving his hips in a circular motion, just barely missing. “fuck!! mmng!…c—can’t come…”
dion is still reaching for his shirt and gets its halfway. “shit… keep going…” he reached again, “damn, just like that, baby.” he slows down his movements and reaches again, grabbing onto the hem as his head falls back. inhaling, he makes a hissing noise “fuck… show the fuck out then, baby.”
miles pushes dion down “st—stop moving… please…”
dion looks up at him with eyes that’d worship. “you need me to stop?” he feels a surge of energy—deep in him, dark, and possessive. his hips slowed to a soft roll. “just tell me, miles.” he caresses miles’ thighs, rubbing circles on each one with his palms. “use me, miles.”
miles stops his movments, rocking forward with his eyes fixated on the space dion disappeares into him. dion moved miles’ hands to his neck. “fuck me, miles.”
miles holds onto his neck with one hand, using the other to support his weight in the seat. he slows to an almost standstill before squeezing lightly on dion’s neck. “i want you to fuck me.”
dion froze
of course, he was grateful for this. to see even this side of him. to expose the crack in his impenetrable gaze and unreadable mask of a face.
to see this side of him—raw, unraveling, and crumbling right here?
its all he needs.
he worked through the dizzying mix of pleasure and desire, coming to with a slow stroke of his hips.
miles begins riding again, leaning back before feeling a sharp sense of static run through his stomach—like gilded butterflies crashing into his organs, and the space had carved out of him. he stops moving.
dion notices, “what—“
“please, dion…! keep going!”
dion goes back to his movements; miles slows himself until he feels it again.
like having the wind knocked out of you.
he keeps going, adding a soft circlular motion—dion hit something.
then again.
again.
miles felt his toes curl, a sensation similar to an itch flooded his brain. he rocked whenever dion would meet his hips, circle his hips as he withdraws and meet his thrust in the middle.
“fuck, i’m gonna come.”
miles nodded, “me too…”
he felt dions hips stutter.
then he hit it again.
each caress, each touch, every movement was inching him to a destination that felt impossible to reach. “fuck me…” he leaned down, bending over to be level with dion. “ugh… please dion… fuck me. fuck me until I only know your name. fuck me—“
“mgn…”
an embrace between the two, dion kissing miles and sitting up to consume him. dion wrapped his arms around miles’ waist, nuzzling his nose in the crook of miles’ neck—littering it with hickeys and bite marks before his hips had begun.
he started a rhythm.
he continued this pace, crashing through miles’ center with a brutal, but sloppy aim. each hit would knock the wind from miles but his body wasn’t able to come.
he needed that itch scratched.
dion, using his arms, picked up miles, slamming him down with a force equal to his thrusts.
miles’ eyes crossed.
dion punched through him, satisfying the emptiness each thrust used to torture miles. “nngh!! dion! oh…” he lolled, the spot he’d been trying to satisfy was targeted in a way that miles couldn’t focus on. dion was a changed man, fucking into miles with the ferocity a rabid animal might. not every thrust reached his “spot” but he felt every trust in his spot. “dion…! dion!! fuck, g’come!”
he was crumbling. "i’m almost there.” dion mumbled, more to himself than miles—he had only one mission: fuck miles. nothing else mattered. noone else mattered. he was going to change miles. he want to complete worship him. so if miles needs him to come. he’ll always be there.
a tightening in his stomach pulled him away from miles.
miles was blissed out, eyes dazed and a malleable ball in dions body.
still, dion continued.
dion finished, never stopping, waiting for miles’ command.
“coming! coming!!”
he wrapped a hand aroubd miles, using the other to continue the pace.
miles reached to run from the stimulation—dion denied him, restraining him with his hand while thrusting into miles like it was lifeline “come… come!! coming!! come—“
white flooded miles, throughly.
he wanted to see the fissures where his fingerprints would linger… days after today, weeks, and months. he wanted to miles to hear himself in the moments in-between silence, and feel whenever his mind wandered. dion wanted to see it all. he needed proof of his existence carved into the folds of miles brains—and he wanted miles to see it too.
