Chapter 71

He couldn’t take this. He couldn’t. He sought respite. In a way, he sought sanity. Out, then in, hard, quick, leaving Dean unable to breathe, to see, to hear, to be aware. Pain and pleasure drew together in a relentless beat, softening him inside where nothing physically touched. Dean rode a tide over which he had no control for the first time in his life. He lay unable to fight. He gave Jay what he wanted, didn’t flinch when Jay’s nails cut into him—fuck, Jay’s nails were sharp—but all the small sting did was add spice he hadn’t known he had a taste for, the scratching and Jay growing tense the first signs Dean wasn’t the only one fighting to hold back. Things tightened, drawing up, closing down, and pushing forward. Dean added his grip to Jay’s, tightening his hand—the fact he shouldn’t have been able to barely registering before a last few, hard strokes brought him off. He bucked, all his muscles expanding and contracting in one huge release.