Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 34: R18

Chapter 34: Chapter 34: R18
The first thing Lance registered was the heat. A solid, relentless warmth wrapped around him from behind, pressing along the length of his body.
The second was the hard, insistent ridge nestled firmly against the cleft of his ass, moving in a slow, possessive grind.
Oh.
He was awake instantly, his breath catching.
Ansel’s arm was a steel band across his chest, holding him flush, and his face was buried in the nape of Lance’s neck, teeth grazing the skin there in a lazy, waking bite.
He guessed they were going to do it this morning.
The thought was less a guess and more a certainty that vibrated through his bones.
Lance felt his body respond, a traitorous heat pooling low in his belly even as his mind whispered a faint protest.
Ansel’s mouth moved from a nibble to a slow, open-mouthed kiss against his pulse point.
His hips rocked forward again, a deliberate, filthy drag of his clothed erection against Lance’s thin sleep shorts.
The friction was maddening, already sparking little licks of sensation up Lance’s spine.
"Morning, kitten..." Ansel’s voice was a sleep-rough growl directly in his ear. The arm around Lance’s chest shifted, a large hand sliding down to splay possessively over his stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts.
"You feel that? That’s what you get for falling asleep on me. Now I’m fucking hard and you’re going to fix it."
Lance swallowed, his throat already feeling tight. "I’m... still healing.." he managed, the excuse sounding weak even to his own ears.
Ansel chuckled, a dark, low sound. "Did I say I was going to fuck your ass? I said you were going to fix it." His hand on Lance’s stomach pushed, rolling him onto his back. Before Lance could process the movement, Ansel was over him, looming, his weight braced on his arms.
The early morning light cut across the severe planes of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded and intent.
"Open your fucking mouth, Lance."
It wasn’t a request. It was a command, delivered with such casual authority that Lance’s jaw went slack on instinct.
Ansel’s gaze dropped to his lips, and a flicker of something raw, unadulterated hunger passing through his expression.
"Good.." Ansel murmured. He shifted, kneeling over Lance’s chest, his own pants already tented obscenely.
One hand came to cradle the side of Lance’s face, thumb brushing his lower lip. The other worked the drawstring of his pants. "You’re going to take all of me. You’re going to swallow me down that pretty throat until you can’t breathe, and you’re going to love every fucking second of it because I own this mouth."
He freed himself, and Lance’s eyes widened. Even half-hard, Ansel was imposing.
Thick, veined, the head already flushed.
Ansel fisted himself, giving a slow, tight stroke, his eyes locked on Lance’s. "Look at you. Already looking wrecked and I haven’t even touched you yet."
He guided himself forward, the broad tip nudging against Lance’s parted lips. "Suck."
Lance obeyed, closing his lips around the crown, tasting the faint, salty pre-come. Ansel hissed, a sharp intake of breath.
"Yeah. Just like that. Now relax your throat for me. I’m going in."
He didn’t wait. He pushed forward, the thick invasion immediate and overwhelming.
Lance gagged, tears springing to his eyes as the head pressed past his uvula.
Ansel’s hand on his face held him steady, his thumb stroking his cheek.
"Breathe through your nose.." Ansel instructed, his voice tight with strain.
"Take it. You can take more. I want to feel your throat squeeze my fucking cock."
He pushed deeper, a relentless, slow invasion until his pelvis met Lance’s lips, his entire impressive length buried down Lance’s throat.
Lance’s eyes watered, his body arching slightly off the bed as he fought the reflex to choke.
"Humph.."
Ansel held there, letting him adjust, his own breathing ragged.
"Fuck, Lance... your throat is so fucking tight and hot." He pulled back until just the tip remained, then surged forward again, setting a slow, deep rhythm. "This is what you’re for. This perfect, wet, tight hole. You’re going to suck me until I come so far down your throat you’ll taste it for hours."
The obscene, wet sounds filled the room.
Ansel’s thrusts became more purposeful, his hips pumping, driving himself deeper with each push. He shifted, gripping Lance’s hair now, controlling the angle. "Look at me."
Lance forced his watery gaze up. Ansel’s face was a mask of intense pleasure, his jaw clenched, watching himself disappear between Lance’s lips.
The visual, combined with the helpless, full feeling, sent a jolt of pure, sharp arousal straight to Lance’s own cock, which strained painfully against his shorts.
"You like this.." Ansel growled, noticing. "You’re fucking hard for me while I face-fuck you. You love being used like this, don’t you? My pretty little cocksleeve."
He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. Lance’s throat worked around him, the stimulation dragging ragged moans from Ansel. "I’m going to fuck your face in every position I can think of. I’m going to bend you over the side of this bed and make you suck me from behind. You’re not leaving this room until I’m spent and your jaw is sore."
True to his word, Ansel pulled out, a string of saliva connecting Lance’s lips to his shining cock. "On your knees. Now."
Lance scrambled off the bed, knees hitting the floor by the bedside. Ansel stood before him, a tower of lean muscle and intent.
He guided Lance’s head back, tilting his face up. "Open wide. Catch every drop."
This angle was deeper, more demanding.
Ansel fucked into his mouth with steady, punishing thrusts, the head of his cock hitting the back of Lance’s throat with each one.
Lance’s hands came up, trembling, to rest on Ansel’s thighs, holding on for balance as he was used.
The taste of him, the musky scent of his skin, the dominant power in every movement, it was overwhelming, degrading, and impossibly hot.
Lance felt his own pre-come soaking through his shorts, a humiliating, undeniable proof of his arousal.
Ansel’s rhythm began to stutter, his breaths coming in sharp grunts. "I’m close. You’re going to swallow it all. Every. Last. Fucking. Drop."
He drove in one final, deep time, burying himself to the hilt, and held him there.
Lance felt the first hot, salty pulse hit the back of his throat, then another, and another.