"Stop, Dahmer! I said stop—it's too much!" Malcom's voice cracked, a desperate sound that was immediately swallowed by the quiet space of the bedroom. His fingers dug frantically into the mattress, his knuckles turning white as he tried to claw his way forward, to find some relief from the overwhelming fullness stretching his lower body to its limits.
But Dahmer's grip on his waist was absolute, branding Malcom's hips as he pulled him backward, pinning him flat against his chest. With a growl, Dahmer drove his thickness to its absolute depth, burying his shaft completely inside Malcom's passage.
Dahmer's chest heaved against Malcom's back, his breath coming in ragged pants. "I can't stop, sweetheart," he rumbled, his voice thick with a dark, primal satisfaction. "You're so tight... so incredibly perfect. I'm filling you up."
