But Nick still didn't move. Didn't thrust. Buried to the hilt inside me, face inches from mine, lean body pressed against me in all the best ways, too many things I didn't want to think about, and he still wouldn't MOVE.
"I want you to be happy," he said, still in that weirdly gentle but serious tone. "And so would he."
Something tore loose inside me. I don't know why those words did it. I hadn't cried when somber men in uniforms appeared on our doorstep. I hadn't cried at the funeral, when they handed my mother that fucking flag. I hadn't even cried later, alone in my room in the dark, with the world gone suddenly cold and empty. Whatever the reason, suddenly I was sobbing, tears pouring from my eyes as I clutched Nick tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him, face pressed to his shoulder. He stayed right where he was, even stayed hard the whole time, like he wanted to support me inside and out. It took a while, but eventually I burned through the massive dam of guilt and grief that had built up in my heart, walling me off from the world.
So that, of course, is when the bastard finally started thrusting.
Just as I was getting control of myself again, feeling wrung out but somehow lighter, Nick met my eyes, grinned that damnable, wonderful grin of his, and rolled his hips. His cock slid out and back in, hitting all the right places, and my body thrummed with the sudden burst of pleasure. I scowled but clutched him tighter, pulling him harder into me as his thrusting sped up.
Nick reared up a bit, our conjoined bodies forming a right angle instead of being pressed together. He moved a hand behind his back, though from my position I couldn't see what he was doing with it. Probably trying to push himself into me harder. His thrusting certainly intensified, the muscles of his stomach rippling in mesmerizing waves, his hips slapping audibly against my ass.
His arm moved again, and Nick groaned, eyes rolling up and his steady thrusting stuttering for a moment. "Damn, that's good," he panted, still apparently unable to focus his eyes. That one hand was moving faster, almost matching the pace of his increasingly erratic thrusting. His other hand was clenched on my leg, holding it up over his shoulder. "Not sure...mmm...I can hold it any more..."
Was he...? No, couldn't be. Nick was an avowed top; the one time he'd let me fuck him--as much as I'd enjoyed it and wanted more--he'd complained the whole time. He'd never let me near his ass since. Sure looked like that policy had changed, though, from the way his hand was positioned.
Nick's thrusting reached a fever pitch, faster and harder than ever. All at once, he slammed into me, cock buried to the root, and shuddered out a groan. His whole body locked up, every muscle standing out--except for his left arm, still moving rapidly behind him. I felt his cock pulse inside me, again and again as he pumped out his load deep inside me.
Breathing hard, he pulled out. He drew back a bit, lowered my legs to the bed, and then--to my shock--slid forward until he was straddling me. Without my legs in the way, I could clearly see his two lubed fingers still sliding in and out of his previously untouchable hole. A bead of leftover semen welled from the tip of his cock and dripped onto mine, hard and drooling across my stomach. Nick pulled his fingers out with a gasp, wrapped them around my shaft, and gave it a slow stroke, spreading lube and his own come all over my cock. Meeting my eyes, he lifted my erection, lined himself up, and slid onto it, groaning as the head popped through.
I very nearly came again.
Slowly--so slowly it was basically torture--Nick worked his way down, muscular thighs trembling and chest heaving. He was so tight. So warm inside. My hands wandered up to his hips, trying to support him, help him maintain balance. A pale echo of what he'd just done for me. About halfway down the shaft, Nick paused, eyes closed, just breathing. I didn't move. Didn't dare speak. After an eternally long moment, he pulled back up. I thought he'd decided against this, changed his mind, but when he got most of the way off my cock, with just the head left inside, he abruptly shoved himself back down, taking the whole thing at once.
Nick choked back a cry. I didn't; I just yelled. My cock isn't as thick as Nick's, but it's not small, and that had to have hurt him. It felt incredible for me, of course, having the slick heat of him wrapped all around me like that. Being buried inside him as deep as I could go. He gasped a few breaths, met my eyes again, and flexed his legs so he would rise and fall again. Groaning his name, I clenched my hands on his hips, helping lift him and then dragging him down even harder, faster and faster, again and again. His ass slapped against my thighs. His still hard, still dripping cock bounced off my stomach, his balls swinging wildly as he furiously fucked himself.
The smells of sweat and sex and lube filled the room. We weren't even trying to be quiet any longer, half the neighborhood could probably hear us. It was breathtaking, watching my beautiful Nick slide up and down my length, every muscle rippling with the effort. And yet, I realized I wanted more than to just lie there and experience this. Nick preferred being on top, being in control, but he'd done enough for me already. I wanted him to feel as safe and protected as I had with him inside me.
Also, I wanted to fuck him until he screamed my name and begged for more. If this was the only chance I'd get--he might never let me do this again--I was going to make it count.
Sliding my arms under his legs, I scooped him up and rolled us over, keeping myself buried inside him all the while. With his eyes half closed, seemingly lost in the fuck, Nick was completely unprepared and flopped helplessly to the bed beneath me. I grabbed his knees, pushing his legs back until his hips curled up off the bed. Now I was thrusting down almost as much as forward, and with gravity's aid I started really pounding into him, the angle ensuring I hit his prostate with every thrust.
Shocked and breathless, Nick braced one hand on the headboard to keep himself from getting fucked through the wall. He grabbed my ass with his other hand, yanking me into him even harder. Each thrust forced a noise out of his lungs, staccato "ah! ah!" sounds that echoed off the walls with the wet slapping of my hips against his ass.
I let go of his leg with one hand and seized his cock, slick with lube, streaked with come, and hard as ever despite his orgasm barely ten minutes ago. "Fuuuck," he groaned, writhing as I stroked him. I wanted him to feel it, all of it, to be overwhelmed by the gratitude and even joy I was trying to push into him with every thrust. My brother was still gone, would always be gone, but at least I had Nick, and I wanted him to understand how much I valued not feeling so alone.
I suppose talking might have done that more efficiently, but I've never been the most articulate.
I picked up the pace again, using my whole length in every thrust. Pulling back until the ridge of my cockhead pulled at the rim of his hole, I'd slam back down to the root, giving his cock a hard squeezing stroke at the same time. My balls swung against his ass with each revolution, little spikes of sensation adding yet another note to the chorus of bliss blasting through my body.
"Shit...ah!...Chris...yes, fuck!"
Nick, always so smoothly confident, so sure of himself and his place in the world--all things I emphatically was not--was reduced to babbling nonsense between gasps of ecstasy. I'd never let him live this down. I would also try to incite this state as often as possible; he'd never seemed so gorgeous.
Finally, I couldn't go on. My balls were boiling, my lungs were burning, and Nick was a shuddering, writhing wreck. Plunging in as deep as I could, I let go and poured my load into him. My second orgasm of the day was even more overwhelming than the first, sending waves of pleasure up my spine to inundate my brain before washing back out across my limbs. I'm told that the noise I made wasn't even recognizable as human. I kept thrusting through it all, in a shuddering, spasmodic way, still stroking Nick until I was recovered enough to notice that he'd come too at some point, his second load streaking his abs and chest.
Chest heaving, soaked in sweat and aching pleasantly all over, I collapsed onto the bed next to Nick.
"You know," he said mildly, once we'd more or less gotten our breathing under control, "there are a bunch of people outside who are probably wondering why a bear just died inside the house."
"Fuck you," I said, not opening my eyes.
