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Holland tries his hardest not to let his desperate, ragged moans escape his lips, but that becomes rather difficult when Healy clamps his large, calloused hands even tighter around his waist, leaving no room for doubt that his fingers are leaving huge red marks there, and begins to thrust precisely against the sensitive nerve bundle inside him, fucking him against the already completely messed up bed.
“F-Fuck, Healy..!” March moans and rolls his eyes behind his eyelids, burying his face in the pillow and biting it as if his life depended on it. The sensation of Healy’s thick cock stretching his ass, the swollen head hitting his prostate, and his own penis squeezed between his own body and the sheets is almost otherworldly. Before the other man, March had never had sex like this. His wife used to be just as vanilla as he was in that regard; both were satisfied with very little, or slow, loving sex. Now, Jackson Healy fucks. He holds March’s body as if it weighs nothing, as if he weren’t a full grown man, and fucking devours him. March loves it. He really, really does. He let go of the pillow and takes a deep breath before trying to speak, his breath erratic with pleasure. “Jack… Shit… I’m a-almost there.”
March lets out a high pitched whimper as Healy pulls out of him and quickly turns him to face forward. “Need to see your face while you do it.” he says in a drawl deep with desire as he slides his two heavy hands from March’s reddened waist down to the backs of his knees and bends him over — ever since the older man discovered just how flexible March can be, he hasn’t had much rest —. His knees are now aligned with his shoulders and his long legs are resting on Healy’s shoulders, who without any delay re-enters his hot, tight entrance, hitting that spot that drives him insane again.
“Ngh..! Fucking hell!” He arches his sweaty back against the bed and throws his head back as Healy, with one of his hands, begins to stroke March's cock, which is dripping with precum by the second. His restless hands reach for the older man’s arms and squeeze his prominent biceps. God dammit.
Why is this guy, sixteen years older than him, so disproportionately stronger like this? It’s not fair. Not in the slightest. It can’t be normal.
He whimpers in need once again.
“You’re doing great, March… You take whatever I give you really well, don’t you?” Healy’s words make him feel light-headed; the blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears becomes more evident, spreading to his neck and chest. Healy knows just how vulnerable and keen he is to such encouragement.
Perhaps that was one of the main factors missing from March’s sexual life before. He simply can’t imagine having sex anymore without receiving some form of praise thrown directly his way. His chest flutters with emotion and his dick throbs with need — that’s the best of both worlds in body language, right? It probably is. It must be.
It took just a few more, yet deep, thrusts for March to come between the other man’s fingers. Long, messy strands of viscous, semi-translucent fluid drip onto his stomach.
“Good... That’s a good boy.” Healy praises, his voice soft, not stopping for even a second from pounding the blond’s ass and stroking his wet cock in his fist.
And even though tears are welling up in his eyes, he’s still incredibly turned on; he doesn’t want Healy to stop — quite the opposite, actually — he moans and begs him to keep going. Healy almost growls as he feels Holland's hips trying to move in sync with his own. This makes him chuckle, gentle, and whisper teasingly as he slows the pace of his thrusts and the hand that’s guiding him, even though he’s gone almost completely soft now. “You’re way too easy, March.”
“F-Fuck you. Just keep… going. Shit. Aren’t you supposed to fucking cum first? Since you’re an old man.” His voice breaks, and tears threaten to start streaming down the corners of his eyes.
Healy smiles cynically and replies before resuming his previous punishing rhythm. “Don’t need to worry your pretty head about this, this old man is already getting close, sweetheart.”
Oh, he fucking hates Healy so much.
March immediately cries out loudly, throwing his head back once more as he moans nonstop and uncontrollably — he really needs to start being more grateful that he doesn’t have neighbors living so close by and that Holly is constantly staying at one of her friend’s house. — Pleasure and pain mingle in an electric, addictive way throughout March’s body.
“J-Jackson… Don’t fucking call me t-that.” The blond gasps, feeling a strange tingling sensation that, at the same time, seems somewhat familiar. “Gonna… Ah—!”
Healy’s thrusts remain deep, though slightly more sloppy, signaling that he’s finally getting really close to coming. He moans too, not as loudly as March, but more audibly than he’d have liked to let slip. Slowing his pace, he feels March insides clenching his cock madly, even more so when he whispers, “Mhm, gonna be a good boy for me again, sweetheart?”
Then Jackson hits his prostate hard one more time and stays pressed there; all Holland can do is whine, high pitched and greedy. And instead of feeling pure ecstasy and climax, white and black spots in his vision, he feels only immense relief. A relief that seems to have completely emptied his mind and made him not notice at first something warmer and liquid touching and running down from his stomach to the bedsheets.
“You’re giving me a bit of an ego boost here, March.” Healy huffs with a smug look on his face.
March can barely open his eyes to look down at his own torso, but when he does, he closes them again and lets himself be carried away by the sensation, his head light, floating on air. He can barely register the unpleasant feeling of his lower torso covered in his own urine. With a low groan and a gasping curse, Healy pulls away and masturbates until he ejaculates all over March’s groin and penis.
“Damn it.” Healy sighs and removes March’s legs from his shoulders. “You’re so good, March. How are you feeling?”
March blinks for a moment, catching his breath and doing his best to gather his thoughts. He runs his hands over his face, wiping away the tears welling in his eyes, and sniffs softly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You made me fucking piss myself. How do you think I’m feeling?”
“Really good?” Healy tried, a tiny smile spreading across his face.
“Disgusting, Healy. I feel disgusting. What the hell?” His face is even redder than before, if that’s even possible. He’s never done that in his entire life. Ever. Is that even something normal to do during sex?
“I thought it was hot.” He said simply, and Holland’s eyes widen before he furrows his brow.
“What? You’re weird.”
And Healy shrugged, causing March to snuggle up in bed with him in a corner farther away from where him had left his messy crime scene.