WIP Wednesday Thursday because @temporarysins69 made a post that legally obligated me and I just saw it -
This is from fourth row far left chapter 3, the ending of which is STILL KILLING ME!
Under the cut for unabashed smut.
"You can…" A breath. The stranger seems kind; certainly they're gentle, and careful that Obi-Wan should feel good too. He trusts them. "You can fuck me."
There's no answer, and the steady slow stroking of the stranger's hand on Obi-Wan's cock only barely hesitates, but after less than a minute — six breaths — something warm, and lubricant-slicked, and about the width of the largest bead, rests for a moment against Obi-Wan's suddenly not-very-relaxed-after-all arsehole, and nudges gently at him.
Obi-Wan is afraid. He doesn't want he doesn't want he doesn't want — he does want, he tells himself firmly, snatching his hand away from the yellow button, because if he can choose this, and wring some pleasure out of it, and say no when he feels like saying no, then he wins, and the terrible man from the spaceport loses.
"All right?" the stranger's voice prompts, warped by the membrane, and;
"All right," Obi-Wan says firmly.
He slumps against the padded bench, and forces himself to unclench his fists and remember how good the beads felt stroking at his insides; like he'd wanted it to go on for hours. This will just be like the best part of the beads, over again. This is what he wants. And when he relaxes, and is slowly spread open, hole twitching and flexing as the stranger's length nestles warmly into him, Obi-Wan almost gasps at the gentle intensity of being filled without pain. His body melts, accommodating the slick glide of the hot flesh that eases him open until every nerve lights up with sensation, and shifting back against the press of the stranger's body inside his own, brushing over that sensitive place and sending stars flying behind his eyes with every stroke.
