My breath punches out of my lungs when he wraps his leg around me, and I know that he wants to do this. He may be nervous, and so am I, but he wants this. He wants me. Sometimes it's still so overwhelming to look at Bittle and know that, for some reason, he loves me. Sometimes it seems too good to be true, but I trust him. Even with my anxious and traitorous mind, I believe him.

"Okay, I've got you. If you want to stop, we'll stop, oui? Just tell me," I murmur, fingers trembling as I wrap my fingers around my cock. Rolling my hips forward, I nudge the slick head of my cock against his hole, and even that has me letting out a guttural moan. I still have no idea how I'll fit, but I will. I just have to go slow and be patient, and it will be more than worth it. "Here we go. Je t'aime, mon chou."

With a deep breath, I slowly press the head of my cock inside of him, moving as slowly as I possibly can. There's a finite tremble in my muscles from the effort of keeping so still, and I watch his face with wide blue eyes as I move. Slowly, so slowly sinking into his body. It's tighter than I even imagined, but slick and warm and so, so perfect.