Encounter by Joram
A warm hand trails down his back, shivering tingles following, until it reaches his ass. He tenses, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, as the hand pets him, plays with him to prepare him for the invasion that is to follow.
His body loses all trace of his own passion as the intruder makes its way inside him. Pain flares brightly. He knew there would be pain but it is more even than he expects. For a moment he wants to pull away, to end this not altogether welcome plundering but as the man above and within him pauses, he forces himself to breathe deeply, to release the pain. It is only pain after all, he tells himself. Fleeting and transitory. He has endured worse before for lesser causes than this.
It doesn't help.
His body is still clenched against the invasion, refusing to let go lest the sensation overwhelm him.
"Easy," a voice murmurs in the vicinity of his ear. "Just relax. It'll feel better then."
Easy for you to say, he thinks a touch hysterically. You haven't got what feels like a telephone pole shoved up your backside. But as knowing hands touch him, bringing his arousal back, and the knowledge that before their situation has always been reversed sinks in, his body does relax and the pain loses its sharp edge, settling in to an unpleasant, dull throbbing and pervasive ache. With a conscious effort of will, he untenses his body, his head dropping down between spread arms and he feels the body within him slide deeper in slow increments that uncannily match the relaxation of his own body.
Finally the intruder is all the way in and he releases a breath he hasn't even realised that he is holding. There, if that is the worst of it, he can endure. If it will tie the man resting warmly on his back to him irrevocably, it will have been worth it.
He expects the other to start thrusting immediately but is distracted as instead hands and mouth play over his own body, heightening his arousal until he barely notices as the thrusts begin. Little more than a gentle rocking motion to begin with but escalating until the rhythm matches his heart beat.
And it is a mutual rhythm, he realises in a moment of clarity before he loses himself within the motion again. He rides the pleasure, the ache in his body pushed aside in the rising swell. Behind him the other man pauses and shifts and suddenly the gentle swell changes into a blinding thrust as the movement rakes over something hidden deep within his body. His conscious mind knows what has occurred but his body takes over, obliterating thought, pushing back insistently, craving that touch again.
It is given, over and over, until amidst a flurry of near overwhelming passion, the body within his, and the hand clenching on his manhood, gives him release. He convulses with a shout, a single syllable of a name cut short as the wail dissolves into mind numbing ecstasy.
He is aware, vaguely, that his body has clenched tightly around the no longer unwelcome intruder but only realises that his own explosive release has triggered the other's as liquid warmth floods his body, lulling them both into satiety.
Lying sprawled on rumpled, stained sheets, the other man still buried deep within him, he knows that he is happy, glad that he has at last given his body. Even more so when the man resting comfortingly on his back stirs and a kiss is pressed to his shoulder blade. A sleepy voice mumbles warmly in his ear. "Love ya, Ez."
Supremely happy for once, he reflects lazily that if the other members of the ATF could see him now, he would be a dead man but he can't bring himself to care. This is what he wants. What he will not give up.
But despite that, he waits until he is certain the man still lying within him is asleep before he replies.
"Love you, too, JD."