Chapter 147: Teach me, Touch me -5

A little over two weeks passed before we tried again.

In that time the campus filled back up. Lectures restarted. Group projects returned. Kelvin still appeared at my door most evenings with his laptop and a quiet smile, and we still studied until the words on the pages blurred.

The difference lived in the way my body remembered him - how sometimes in the middle of a quiet afternoon I would feel a phantom stretch low in my pelvis and have to shift in my seat.

The soreness from the first time had faded, but the memory of being opened so completely had not.

We were in his room on a Thursday night when I finally said it.

"I want to try the other way."

Kelvin looked up from his notes. The desk lamp caught the edge of his jaw.

"Topping?"

I nodded, throat tight. "Just once. I need to know."

He closed the laptop slowly. "Okay. Same rules. We stop if it doesn’t feel right."

I had prepared differently this time. No heavy meal. I was clean. But the nerves sat differently in my stomach - less about being entered and more about being the one who had to enter him.

My hands felt clumsy even before we started. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to satisfy him the way he satisfied me.

We undressed each other the way we always did now - unhurried, kissing between each piece of clothing.

When we were naked on the bed I took my time with his cock, using my mouth the way he liked, slow and wet, until he was fully hard and breathing unevenly.

Then he rolled onto his stomach and I knelt behind him, staring down at the smooth line of his back, the slight curve of his ass.

My own cock ached, but the ache felt distant, almost separate from the rest of me.

Kelvin passed me the lube without looking back. "Fingers first. Same as I did for you."

I slicked two fingers and pressed one carefully against his hole. He was warmer than I expected, and when the tight ring of muscle gave way around my finger a low sound left him.

I worked him open the way he had taught me -slow, patient, adding a second finger only when the first moved easily.

Watching my fingers disappear inside him felt surreal. My pulse hammered in my throat.

When I thought he was ready I rolled on the condom with slightly shaking hands and coated myself with more lube than necessary.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yeah. Go slow."

I lined myself up and pushed. The head of my cock met resistance, then slid in with a sudden, tight heat that made my vision flicker.

Kelvin exhaled sharply through his nose. I froze, buried only partway, overwhelmed by how hot and narrow he felt around me.

It was intense - almost too intense. My hips wanted to thrust but my brain kept stalling, hyper-aware of every tiny shift of his body under mine.

"Breathe," he murmured into the pillow. "You’re okay. Keep going."

I pushed deeper in small increments until my hips rested against his ass. The full heat of him surrounding my cock made my thighs tremble.

I tried to move the way he had moved inside me - slow, deep strokes - but the rhythm felt awkward in my body.

I kept losing focus, either thrusting too shallow or too hard, then overcorrecting.

Kelvin reached back and gripped my thigh, guiding me a little, but I could feel the difference.

When I had been underneath him everything had narrowed to sensation and trust.

Now I was thinking too much - about angle, about whether I was hurting him, about how my arms were already starting to shake from holding myself up.

After a few minutes the physical pleasure was still there, but something essential was missing.

The deep, almost helpless openness I had felt when he was inside me never arrived. Instead I felt responsible, slightly disconnected, like I was performing a task instead of falling into it.

I slowed, then stopped, still buried inside him.

"I... I don’t think this is it," I said with my voice rough.

Kelvin turned his head enough to look at me over his shoulder. There was no disappointment in his face - only quiet attention.

"Okay. Pull out."

I did, carefully. The cool air on my cock after the heat of his body made me shiver. I sat back on my heels, condom still on, breathing hard.

Kelvin rolled over to face me. His cock was still hard against his stomach. He reached up and touched my cheek with two fingers.

"Talk to me."

"It feels good," I said honestly.

"But it doesn’t feel... right. Not the way it did when you were inside me. I keep thinking instead of feeling. I think I prefer being the one who takes it."

A small, soft smile touched his mouth. "Then that’s what we do."

He sat up, kissed me once, then reached for another condom. In less than a minute he had sheathed himself, added more lube, and guided me onto my back with a pillow under my hips.

The shift in dynamic was immediate. The moment the blunt head of his cock pressed against my hole my whole body seemed to exhale.

I was still tight - two weeks was not enough to change that - but my body remembered the stretch.

When he pushed inside, the burn was familiar now. I gripped his shoulders and breathed through the first thick inches until he was fully seated.

This time the fullness landed differently. It settled into the same deep place that had felt so overwhelming the first night, only now it carried recognition instead of pure shock.

Kelvin moved with the same careful patience, long slow strokes that dragged against the spot inside me that made my cock leak against my stomach.

I didn’t have to think. I only had to take him - open around him, breathe with him, let the heavy slide of his cock rewrite the earlier uncertainty.

When I came it was with my legs locked around his waist and his name caught in my throat. He followed soon after, buried deep, forehead pressed to mine while his cock pulsed inside the condom.

Afterward he cleaned us both and pulled the blanket over our bodies. I lay with my head on his chest, the residual ache inside me already starting to feel like proof of something settled.

"I needed to try," I said into the quiet. "But I know now. I like being under you. Being filled. That’s the part that feels like me."

Kelvin’s fingers traced slow patterns along my spine.

"Then that’s what we’ll keep doing," he answered simply. "Whatever feels most like you."

I closed my eyes and let the solid weight of his arm across my back anchor me to the bed.