Alexander stayed buried to the root while Dashiell's body fought to take him. The stretch was nothing like fingers. It was deeper, thicker, a bright tearing pressure that ran from his hole up into his gut until his toes curled hard against the tile and his knuckles went white on the sink.
"Breathe."
Alexander said against his hair, his voice ragged. Dashiell dragged air in through his teeth. It did nothing for the humiliating fullness, the exact knowledge of how completely Alexander occupied him. Every tiny shift made the pressure spike, then melt into something hotter. When Alexander's hips twitched, a thin broken sound slipped out of him.
Alexander's mouth found his ear. One arm locked around his waist and hauled him upright so his back was flush to Alexander's chest. The other hand closed around his throat, thumb resting on the frantic beat of his pulse. The new angle drove Alexander even deeper. Dashiell's mouth opened on a sound that wasn't quite a moan.
"Alexander—it hurts."
A kiss pressed to his temple, lingering, almost tender. "Tell me when it doesn't."
"You sound far too pleased."
"I'm pleased you're taking me." Alexander's voice had gone rough. "All of me. Look."
Dashiell's eyes flicked to the mirror. He was flushed to the chest, lips parted, Alexander's cock visibly stretching him where they joined. His face reddened further at the sight.
"That isn't better."
"It wasn't meant to be."
A laugh tried to escape and died when Alexander rolled his hips the smallest amount. Dashiell's hand flew back and locked around Alexander's wrist.
"I said not yet."
Alexander eased back into place, thumb stroking the side of Dashiell's neck while the worst of the burn slowly turned into a heavy, throbbing fullness. Then something warm and wet landed between them.
Dashiell grimaced. "Did you just spit on me?"
"Yes."
"That's disgusting."
"It will help." Alexander's fingers gathered the spit and smeared it around the stretched rim, rubbing it in while Dashiell hissed. "You'll thank me in thirty seconds."
"That is an insane amount of confidence."
"I know this body." Alexander's hips finally moved. The first drag out stole Dashiell's breath; the first push back in made his knees buckle. Alexander did it again, measured, almost clinical, letting Dashiell feel every inch of the slide. The ache didn't vanish. Pleasure just started threading through it, thicker every time Alexander bottomed out.
The hand on his throat never loosened. Every sound came out smaller, wetter, impossible to hide.
"You can go faster."
Alexander slowed instead and their eyes met in the glass.
"I said faster."
"Ask nicely."
"No."
"Then we stay like this."
The next stroke was viciously slow. Alexander pulled out until only the fat head stretched Dashiell's rim, then pushed back in at an angle that dragged the swollen crown directly over his prostate and stayed there, grinding. Dashiell's whole body jerked as a raw sound punched out of him.
Alexander did it again. And again. Making him feel every ridge, every slow drag across that spot until Dashiell was shaking and the sink was the only thing holding him up.
"Fine." The word came out wrecked. "Please."
"Please what?"
Dashiell turned his head enough to glare. "You have an advanced medical degree. Use context."
A dark, pleased sound vibrated against his neck. Then Alexander pulled almost all the way out and slammed home hard enough that Dashiell's hips smashed into the counter.
"Oh—fuck—"
"There. Context."
The next thrust landed before Dashiell had air again. Alexander's arm clamped around his waist and yanked him back onto every stroke so he had no choice but to take the full length. The bathroom filled with the wet, filthy slap of skin. Every thrust punched that same swollen place until Dashiell's thoughts scattered.
"Look at me."
"I am."
"You're looking at the sink."
Alexander's hand left his waist, caught his chin, and forced his face toward the mirror. Their eyes locked as Alexander drove in hard enough to wrench a broken, punched-out moan from Dashiell's throat.
"I like that sound."
"Keep that to yourself."
Alexander's smile in the glass was feral. Dashiell shoved back on purpose, taking him deeper, and felt Alexander's breath stutter against his neck. He did it again.
"Dashiell."
"Yes?"
"You know exactly what you're doing."
"Obviously."
The answer earned him a brutal thrust that lifted him onto his toes. Alexander's hand returned to his throat; the other arm locked around his middle, pinning him so he couldn't escape the pace.
Alexander was losing that careful control now, his breathing growing ragged as his grip became bruising and his hips snapped harder against Dashiell, who watched it happen in the mirror and slammed back onto him with even more force.
"You're doing that on purpose," Alexander said.
"Of course I am."
Alexander's breath brushed Dashiell's neck. "I married an extraordinarily difficult man."
"You knew that when you put the ring on."
Alexander's next thrust wiped the smugness off Dashiell's face. He caught Dashiell's chin again and held his head up.
"Stay with me," he said. "Watch what I'm doing to you."
Dashiell tried. His thighs were shaking, the pressure low in his gut winding tighter with every stroke.
Alexander felt it. He slowed just enough to make Dashiell feel every inch of the drag, then pressed his mouth to Dashiell's ear.
"Now," he said, voice wrecked. "Stop trying to behave. Come on my cock."
He snapped his hips forward and stayed there, gyrating against Dashiell while his hand left Dashiell's throat and wrapped around his neglected cock, stroking him in time with each short, vicious roll of his body.
Dashiell broke with a sound that was almost a sob. He came hard, painting the cabinet and Alexander's fist, clenching down so tightly Alexander cursed and followed him over, burying himself to the hilt and pulsing inside him in thick, hot waves.
They stayed like that, shaking, Alexander still buried, Dashiell's forehead dropped against the mirror, breath fogging the glass.
Alexander's mouth found the side of his neck, softer now. "Still disgusting?"
Dashiell managed a breathless chuckle. "Ask me again when I can feel my legs."