Xander Shows Me My Prostate

I don't have time to doubt my invitation. Xander's hips are already pushing up, underneath me, and digging his cock deeper into my ass in the process. Eager enough, I have to reassess just how much restraint he must've been imposing until now, because everything about his movements suggest he was desperate to start fucking me. 

His hands are gripping under my ass, holding me up as he tugs himself away. There's a moment of that weird, addictive, inverted feeling - or being stretched, but it happening inside-out - and then he's burying himself in me again. The force of it, of dropping into his lap and being skewered on his thick inches, slamming the breath from my lungs. 

"Oh fuck," Xander gasps, and there's something in his voice, in the way he says it, that sends a surge of satisfaction through me. More than that; pride, somehow, that it's my body which has made him feel like that. 

It's not like he hasn't got off before; not like I haven't seen him cum, and helped him do it, and watched as he got caught up in the process of fingering me and making me lose control in a room full of people. But still, there's always been a sense of Xander having the upper hand. Of being the one that shows me what's going to happen next, and my eager body and overwhelmed brain come along for the ride. 

Now, though, even though I'm the one getting reamed here, it feels like I'm the one surprising him. 

I wrap my arms around his neck, using that grip to lever myself on top of him. Not that it tempers the tightness of his fingers, digging into my cheeks, but it certainly makes our movements easier, more fluid. Like I'm riding him, while he surges up to meet each stroke. 

There's no way for me to know how much of him is pulling and pushing in and out of me each time, but it doesn't matter. It could be an inch or five of them, the drag and the scrape of it sending waves of off-kilter pleasure through my hips and up my spine. His face close, near enough that I can feel each hot breath against my lips; Xander's jaw clenched, and something close to a frown of concentration as he saws at my hole. 

"Is... it good... for you?" 

The words little more than grunts, hisses escaping through what little gap in his focus he can spare. As though anything more, any greater liberation here, and he'd be howling - head back and neck corded - as he screwed me. I shove my fingers through the sweat-damp tangles of his hair, and pull.

"Don't stop."

It's not an answer, not really, not to what he asked me, and yet it says everything anyway. Xander's lips curling in a satisfied smirk, and the sight of it only makes me tug at his scalp more; slam my hips down against his lap with renewed fury. 

"Fuck... I need..." 

Descriptions fail him, but it's no matter. Not when I can feel him turning me, toppling me to the side on the couch as his body follows. Twisting us as he goes, with some blend of brute force and animal grace, until he's rearing up on top of me. My arms still clinging to his neck, his braced either side of my shoulders, as my heels dig into the small of his back and Xander lets himself loose.

The gasps he's pounding from my chest sound animal, unrecognizable. Blunt noise, the squash of meat and lust as his body slaps against mine and I feel him slide deeper, more fully now. Not that he'd been lying before, when he'd told me there was no more of him to squeeze inside me, but the angles are different, more insidious. With my hips upturned like this, it feels like his dick punches deeper each time.

"Do you fuck her like this?" I manage to grind out, almost dangling from my hold around his neck. See and feel him chuckle more than I hear it, the grin squirming briefly across his face before he catches his lip between his teeth. I smirk back up at him, rocking with each slam of his groin. 

"You get it rougher," Xander says. There's something in the squint of his eyes that's a challenge, taunting me to ask him to slow down. To take it easy on me. 

I glare at him, instead. 

"This is rough?"

It's our usual joking, our teasing. The language we've somehow managed to construct, shared between us, in just a few days time. And yet the stakes are higher now, or certainly more sensitive, a fact I'm made thoroughly aware of when he lands his next stroke like a sledgehammer. 

"Oh fuck," and my voice is a whimper at most. All I can do to cling to him as Xander shows me what I asked for. Not in so many words, maybe, or even knowing what treatment I was inviting onto my naive body, but encouraging it nonetheless.

I lose count of just how many of those deep, stabbing thrusts he makes. Not that I think he expects me to note each one. Numbers are, like speech and standing upright, far beyond me right now. All my world contains is the thickness of his cock inside me, and the way the rest of me feels like one, big, frictious sleeve for him to take pleasure from. 

Right up until the point where the blunt head of his dick rasps right across my prostate. 

There's no hiding it, not when the thunderbolt of sensations makes me whine out loud, and so there's no way to stop him from repeating that motion. He's a quick learner, too, and within seconds Xander is grinding into that hyper-sensitive spot each time. 

I can't hold onto him when he sits up, my arms too weak, muscles distracted. Can only watch, in fact, as Xander eases his hands under my legs and pushes them back; my knees almost to my chest as he positions me more to his liking. The long, muscled stretch of his torso framed between my calves, sweat dripping as his body curls into me, and if I'd thought I was open before, felt like I was unlocked to him, then this new position is another level in exposure. 

One, though, with the benefit that I can finally reach my cock, rigid against my belly. 

He grins at me, a look somewhere close to one of triumph as he watches me jerk myself. Frowning as I try to tighten myself around him, squeeze him, my muscles exhausted and overwhelmed but still determined to give as good as I get, here. 

"You gonna cum while I'm fucking you?" Xander teases, and it's all I can do to hold his gaze while I focus on my sensitive tip. Fist a sleeve of precum, the sound raw and indecently wet as I rub myself desperately. "Fuck," he adds, as though just the talk of it has pushed him nearer himself, "I'm so close."

I nod at him, silent permission, because just hearing that has rocketed me to the point of no return too. The knowledge that he's about to blow in me, the weirdness and unfamiliarity of it, mixed in with the unmistakable pleasure that he's generating in my ass. 

Some part of my brain is trying to comprehend how, if I'm meant to be straight, I can be moments from cumming while another guy breeds my hole. It's too small a part to even begin to listen to. 

It's the final, glancing swipe across that pleasure center inside me that does it. My cock erupting in my fist, messy sprays reaching my face as my strokes become flails, and I'm clamping down on him as I do it. Exhausted body finding some last remnants of control, and the sleeve he's been screwing is suddenly, haphazardly clinging to him with new degrees of tightness, and I see from Xander's expression that it's the final straw.

It feels like he thickens in me. Wider, and longer, and pushing deeper as his grunts fill my ears and he pushes himself as far into my body as he possibly can. I can't feel his cum, but I know it's happening; know that he's unloading just like he warned me he would, deep enough it's like his tip is nudging my stomach. 

And then, unceremoniously, Xander drops down on top of me. Our sweaty skin pressed together as I feel his bodyweight settle down on my chest. 

For a while, there's only the sound of our breathing. Hoarse-edged and shuddering, his lips brushing the side of my face as he pushes his mouth into the sharp edge of my jaw.

I feel like my body has been liquified. As though there's an outline of Luka, of the person I'm familiar with, but the insides are all soft and pliant. Muscles way beyond any ability I might have to control them, and so all I can do is slump there on Xander's couch, his body pressing into me as I feel the thud of my heartbeat.

"You feel good," he says, eventually. Exhaustion and satisfaction in his voice, now, and I know that if I could see his face there'd be a contented smirk there, too. 

"Isn't the sweet talk meant to be before you get me into bed?" 

It feels easier to tease him, to make a joke of it. Easier than acknowledging the extent of what just happened; of what we both so willingly - so eagerly - did together. 

Xander shifts against me. Not so much a sign that he's about to lift off my chest, more just like he's testing the contours of his skin, his flesh, against my own. A shift eased by the liberal amount of my cum that's slick between us.

"We didn't even make it to the bed," he points out, and now I can hear the grin in his voice, too. 

"Oh great," I tell him, mock-serious. "Does that mean I'm an easy lay?"

He doesn't answer that, and even though I was joking I'm a little disappointed somehow, too. That feeling fleeting, however, as I feel his lips drag up my cheek until they brush across my own. 

It feels more real, now that I can see his eyes. What we did feels more real.

"Did you enjoy it?" 

It could sound boastful, like a request for an ego-stroke. Xander wanting to hear how good he was, how satisfying; I could even imagine the porn dialog, the "you're so big" and "you're so powerful" only in my voice not that of some actress with big tits and an innocently-wowed expression that doesn't reach her eyes. 

Instead it sounds like he really wants to know. The truth, that is, in whatever shape that comes in.

"More than..." I start; swallow, my throat suddenly thick. "More than I thought I would."

Xander smiles. "Because you thought I'd be shit in bed?" 

I roll my eyes. "We didn't even make it to the bed," I point out, borrowing his own words. He laughs, but the way he's looking at me tells me that he still wants an answer. A real one.

It's hard to find the words for that, though. When he's still laying on top of me; when my legs are still part-wrapped around his waist, and his cock is still inside me. Add to that the fact that I'm pretty sure I ought to be freaking out right now, because a guy has just plowed me and cum inside me, and yet I feel so worryingly far from panic that I'm starting to get concerned that I could be in shock, or something. 

"I'm not freaking out, and it's kinda freaking me out," I tell him, finally. Xander chuckles again. 

"Very meta."

He shifts again, and this time I feel his arms tense either side of me. The sticky separation as his chest lifts off mine, my legs slumping as he pushes himself upright between the splay of my thighs. I can't help but wonder how I look right now, what he's seeing when he looks down at me. Whether I appear as wrung-out as I feel. 

The feeling of him pulling out of my ass is... difficult to describe. Like, it was far too recent for my body to get used to him inside of me, and yet his absence feels weird and awkward. Like there's a hollow I need to remember how to fill up for myself. 

"We should've used a condom," he says, a hint of scolding in there somewhere, though I don't think he's too disappointed really. Certainly, he didn't seem unhappy when he was telling me how deep he'd cum in my hole. 

"Next time," I say, blithely, still trying to process the empty sensation he's left behind. Then realize the implications; what it sounds like I'm suggesting. "I mean... uh..." Blink at him, his raised eyebrow and grin. "I just mean, when I next have... y'know. Sex... with someone."

Generously, Xander opts not to push the topic. Conspicuously stares me up and down, instead. 

"Think you have the energy for a shower?" 

I give him a look. "You think I need one?" 

Two fingers, tracing down my chest - or, more accurately, through the sheen of cum that's been smeared across it - and across my cock, still swollen and slick. All the way down between my cheeks, even, until Xander pushes them easily into my hole.

"Hey!" I exclaim, wriggling as he slowly fingers me. 

"Man, you used to be so tight," Xander teases. "Now you're all sloppy and soft."

I glare at him, trying not to dwell on the fact that he's just pushed my own load into me with his own. "Whose fault is that?"

His fingers sink deeper as he leans down again, lips landing on mine. Instinctively I open my mouth, letting him kiss me for a moment before I push back and our tongues duel messily. 

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for my ass," I tell him, as he pulls away. Grinning, and trying not to flinch as he probes my tender insides. 

His eyebrow arches. "I told you, Luka, I had a thing for you from the first time I saw you."

I laugh, because if I don't then all I'm going to do is stare at him. Trying to understand how come those words make something in the depths of my stomach churn so strangely. "And so now you've had me," I point out.

He sits up again, back on his haunches. Giving me the space to finally - awkwardly - lever myself up on my elbows to watch as Xander pulls his hand away from my ass. The perfect angle, in fact, to see him lift that hand to his mouth and slip the fingers between his lips, all the while holding my gaze. 

"Don't think I'm done with you yet," he tells me, as I blink at him in astonishment. 

And then he laughs, and pushes himself up off the sofa. Stretches, just once to each side, before holding out a hand - the same one, my brain takes note, that was just inside me, and then in his mouth - to help me up too. My legs protesting, blood rushing back to the parts of me that were folded, contorted, squashed under his heft, but he doesn't wait to let that happen. Just leads me, my hand still in his, through to the bathroom. 

"I don't understand you," I say, finally. My head has been trying to catch up, trying to figure out what the hell is going on - with him, with me, with what we've done together over the past handful of days - and the only conclusion it can find is that it doesn't have a fucking clue.

Xander glances over his shoulder at me, leaning into the shower cubicle with his hand under the water. "What's to understand?"

I frown, trying not to feel frustrated - or jealous - at his ability to be so blasé. "Is this really all so easy for you?" 

He stands again, turning to me. Somehow both frowning and smiling at the same time, and it should be an incongruous mix but it feels oddly appropriate right now. 

"We hooked up. Now we're showering." He says it so plainly, so simply, it makes my brain want to simply accept it at face value. Just go along with all this, as though it's really no big deal. Normal, even. 

And yet... "Is it like this with every guy you sleep with?" 

I don't know what I want to hear. Like, there's a part of me that wants this to be standard, the way it usually goes, because that would make it easier to accept somehow. Even, if I'm being entirely honest with myself, there's another part which wants what just happened - what's happening now - to be special in some way.

"There aren't that many," Xander points out. I frown at him. 

"More than I've ever been with," I remind him. He nods, mute acknowledgement of that. 

"So what do you want me to tell you?" 

I feel a spark of frustration in my chest, like a tiny, petty firework of annoyance. Because I don't want to have to feed him the words, or try to coax out whatever it is my brain has apparently decided it needs to hear from him. I just want... well, I just want him to say whatever the truth is.

I'm not sure if he can see some of that in my expression, or if he's just thinking through this shit along with me. Only know that as he takes a step forward, closing the distance between us, I can't not hold his stare. 

"Do you want me to tell you that it felt good, really good? Better than I could've hoped it would be?" There's an intensity to his voice that's more than volume, clear despite the hiss of the steaming water behind him. "Do you want me to tell you that I loved being inside you, and being your first, and that the only disappointment right now is that we didn't get to try it the other way around, too?" 

Another step. He's almost touching me, now, and yet I can't move back, away. Caught on his words as thoroughly as if they were a fish hook through my flesh.

"Do you want the abridged version I'm gonna tell Lucy? Or do you want to hear how it's blowing my mind just how hot you are, right this second, standing there all sulky and with my load dripping down your inside thigh, and the taste of us both in my mouth?"

I'm feeling breathless, and light-headed, and I need him to stop staring at me, or just to blink, so that I can do it too. Ground myself, just for the briefest of moments, because what he's telling me is too much, far too much and I don't know if I can handle it.

"Xander..."

His eyes drop to my lips, to the shape of his name on them, then just as quickly snap back to meet my own. His grin is wide, wide enough to get lost in.

"I told you, Luka. I'm not done with you yet."

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This is the twelfth part of an ongoing story - really appreciate everyone who has commented, emailed, or rated it so far! You can find more of my writing at www.alexpendragon.com - thanks for reading!