When Rivals Fuck (6)
As much as I want to touch him, to take back even a fraction of control, I stop myself.
“Okay, Julian,” I rasp softly. “Don’t stop.”
Julian’s smirk is dangerous. He reaches out and firmly pushes my hands off the drafting table. Before I can blink, he’s pressing me back against the wood.
He leans in, one hand braced right beside my head, the other sliding down my chest. He traces the line of my ribs, his touch light but burning.
“Fuck,” I groan.
My cock is aching, throbbing in the cool air, begging for him to touch me again.
"Frank," Julian whispers. His voice is low, teasing, and closer than it’s ever been. "You’ve fought this for two years… and now?"
He moves his hand lower. His thumb brushes over the very tip of my cock. A moan catches in my throat and I have to bite my lip to keep it from escaping.
"Now you’re mine," he says. It’s not a question. "Understand?"
"Yes," I manage to choke out.
Julian chuckles. It’s a dark, rich sound. He leans down and kisses me again.
This kiss is different. It’s passionate, but there’s a weight to it—a dominance that tells me exactly who is leading this dance.
His hand trails down my back, gripping my hip before sliding to my ass. He squeezes gently, and I find myself arching into him.
Then I feel his fingers playing along the sensitive line between my butt cheeks. I don't even try to stop him. I’m dying for him to touch me there.
When his finger grazes my anus, I jolt.
The sensation is incredible.
I moan directly into his mouth, and I can feel the vibration of his smirk against my lips.
He keeps teasing me, circling, testing, while my cock grinds against him through his clothes.
The friction is almost more than I can take.
"Julian?" I rasp, my breath coming in short, jagged bursts.
"Yes?"
I hesitate, the heat flushing my face. "Tell me what you’re going to do to me…"
I’m embarrassed to even ask. Not when he’s already made it clear he’s the one in charge here.
Still… I need to know.
I want him to be a top but Julian doesn’t seem like the kind of man you can predict. He could just as easily be vers. I need to know which one he’ll be with me.
"I’m whatever you want me to be," he replies, his voice smooth as silk.
Relief washes over me. "Julian... please. I want you to fuck me."
"Of course," he says. He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. "We should head back upstairs. My lube is in my bag, and I want you comfortable."
I blink, surprised. "Lube? You... you brought lube to a business trip?"
Julian just shrugs, that playful glint back in his eyes. "I’m an architect, Frank. I like to be prepared for every possible structure."
My phone starts to ring somewhere on the table but I don’t look.
Julian notices. Of course he does. His mouth curves slightly, like he already knows exactly who I’m ignoring.
“Important?” he asks softly.
My answer comes out rough. “Not right now.”
Something shifts in his expression at that. Approval. Possession.
Then he’s pulling me with him.
We barely make it upstairs.
We’re still kissing, still grabbing at each other, stumbling over our own feet like neither of us can wait another second.
Julian pushes me onto the massive bed. "Hold still," he commands.
He moves to his suitcase and pulls out a small bottle.
I sit up just long enough to yank my shirt over my head. Julian does the same.
I watch him get naked, my eyes roaming over the lean muscle of his stomach and the strength in his shoulders.
He has a very nice butt—firm and perfectly shaped.
Julian climbs onto the bed, hovering over me. He cups my face with both hands, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. "You’ve done this before, right?"
I nod. "Yes."
A cheerful, genuine smile breaks across his face. It’s a look I’ve never seen in the office.
He stays like that for a second, just eyeing me, before he drops his head and kisses my left nipple.
“Jesus…” I gasp, my fingers digging into the silk sheets.
He treats my body like a masterpiece. He kisses my nipple like he’s worshipping it, his tongue flicking around the edge before he licks and sucks it into his mouth.
I feel like my soul is about to leave my body.
He’s so good at this… too good.
But my dick is also screaming for attention. I reach down, gently guiding Julian’s hand back to me.
He understands.
He begins to stroke me with a firm, steady rhythm while his mouth stays busy on my nipple.
I start to writhe, my hips bucking off the mattress.
"Please," I beg, my voice cracking. "Just fuck me now."
Julian stops. He turns me around and I arch my back patiently, my heart thundering against the mattress.
I feel his touch at my entrance again, teasing and warm. Then I hear the click of the bottle and feel the cool slide of the lubricant.
I watch over my shoulder as Julian rubs his finger and coats the lube around my hole but I don’t want his finger, I just want his cock inside me already.
“Just—” My voice breaks slightly. “I don’t need—just fuck me.”
Julian stills behind me.
“You think I’m going to rush this?” he murmurs, almost amused.
Heat floods my face, but I don’t take it back. If anything, I push back slightly, impatient.
His hand tightens on my hip.
“Relax,” he says, quieter now. “I’ll get you there.”
I’m aching to feel him fully, but his patience—or control—only makes it worse.
Then, finally, he presses a single finger lightly against me. The touch is firm enough to make me flinch, but gentle, exploratory.
“Oh my God.” I push slightly back, begging him closer.
“Not yet,” Julian whispers, his voice low and calm, but there’s a dark edge that makes my knees weak. “I want to feel you opening for me, little by little.”
I swallow, trying not to moan, but the heat in my chest and the ache in my cock are betraying me.
Every stroke of his finger sends sparks along my spine, teasing me in ways that my own hands never could.
He circles me slowly, pressing in just enough to make me arch, then pulling back slightly
I shiver, writhing under his touch, every motion a silent plea for more.
“Relax for me,” he murmurs again, his thumb brushing over the sensitive spot, and the teasing friction makes my hips buck involuntarily. “You like this, don’t you?”
My breath stutters. “Yes… Julian… please…”
He chuckles softly, a sound that sends heat straight to my cock.
Then, just when I think I can’t take the anticipation any longer, he adds a second finger.
My body trembles, every nerve alight, my hands clawing the sheets as I let out a long, shaky groan.
“Good,” he murmurs, voice velvet and dominant. “That’s exactly how I want you. Open. Ready. Wanting.”
Even as he teases me, I feel myself letting go of control completely. My mind is a haze of need and surrender.
And yet, the fact that he hasn’t pushed me over the edge, that he’s making me earn it, makes the desperate longing inside me grow exponentially.
“Julian,” I cry out softly, rocking into his hand, and his fingers press deeper.
I’m begging silently, heart hammering, eyes rolling back.
Finally, he withdraws his fingers and tilts my hips slightly, whispering in a voice low and commanding. “Now you’re ready for me. All of you. Can you take me?”
I nod, trembling, barely able to breathe. “Yes… Julian… I’m ready…”
He positions himself, the heat of his cock pressing against me before he moves.
He starts to push in, slowly, carefully… then stops.
He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t move forward. Just stays still.
Like he’s waiting.
My fingers tighten in the sheets. My body reacts before I can think, pushing back slightly, asking for more without permission.
His breath catches. Then he moves again, slower and deeper this time.
I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Fuck. Fuck, Julian, Jesus Christ…”
"Let me know if it hurts, okay?" he whispers in my ear, his breath hot.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t. Please don’t stop.”
His lips brush my neck, teasing, and a shiver runs through me. "You have a nice ass, Frank," he murmurs.
I manage a small, shaky smile. "You too."
Then, Julian sinks all the way in. I let out a long, shaky breath as he fills me completely.
He pauses for a heartbeat, letting me adjust, and then he begins to move.
His hand tightens on my hip suddenly, almost too tight.
“Fuck—” he exhales under his breath, like he didn’t mean for me to hear it.
Every thrust hits exactly where I need it, the motion a combination of careful control and raw, urgent possession.
I arch into him, my cock pulsing desperately.
“Do you feel that?” he whispers, lips brushing my jaw. “Two years of you pretending you didn’t want this... now you’re mine. Every inch of you.”
I can’t answer. My voice is gone, replaced by ragged moans and gasps, I can’t even hold myself still anymore.
Every push, every slide, every deep stroke makes me feel more owned, more desperate, and more alive.
For the first time in two years, there’s no distance between us. No tension left unspoken.
There’s just this heat, the movement, and the man I never thought I’d be allowed to hold.
He pulls out suddenly.
The loss hits harder than anything before it. I barely have time to react before his hand closes around my wrist.
“Turn over,” he says.
Not teasing this time.
Not slow.
Something in his voice makes my chest tighten.
“I want to see your face when I do it again.”