He rubs his belly, showing off his six-pack. I know he's posing for me, I know it's a flex, but it's a goddamn effective one.
“You know, I'm pretty sure this is the stall where your son and Luke first got it on.”
I groan, removing my own hat to knock my forehead against the partition in the stall. “Please put your clothes back on. I can't resist you like this.”
“Yeah, I figured. That's why I did it.”
“You are more of a troublemaker than Sisko.”
He tugs on a nipple, inhaling sharply before smoothing his hand over the abused flesh. “I resent that remark, Joaquin. I would never try to escape you.”
I snort. He'd definitely run if he understood what a pull he has on me. Just this morning, he found a nest of baby rabbits close to where he’d seen rattlesnakes, and he made a client wait while he moved them to a safer location.
He steps up to me, brushing a kiss across my lips before kissing a small trail up my cheek to my ear. “I'll put on my shirt if you want me to,” he says, gripping my hip.
I inhale his scent, made heady by the combination of salt, sweat, and man. I'm shaking my head by the time his lips meet mine, and I run my hand up his rib cage, admiring all of the muscles along the way.
I rub my stomach. I'm strong, but I like to eat. I've always had the tiniest bit of a belly, and while I've had no complaints, it's hard not to feel outpaced by a younger man with significantly lower body fat.
Warwick lets out a little grunt, his hand slipping under mine so he can access more of my skin.
Our kissing intensifies, and I press him against the wall, shoving his pants down his thighs. His hard-on is visible beneath the briefs, like a tightly coiled spring that bounces free when I peel his underwear down.
My mouth and cock get into an argument over which gets him first, but his dick looks too delectable to pass up. I go to my knees, taking him down in one gulp. His groans spur me on, as does the smell of him, the musk stronger in his neatly trimmed pubic hair.
Warwick’s cock is perfectly suckable. Long, yes, but wide as my tongue and so very thick. He fills my mouth in every direction and sucking him is as powerful an aphrodisiac as any I’ve encountered.
My hands long to get into the action, and I trail them up his thighs, around his perfect ass, over his hips, along his ridged stomach muscles. I look up, and he’s the picture of euphoria: arms bent this way and that, hat askew as his head slumps back to the support of the wall, eyes squeezed tight, mouth open in a laxO.
An artist lover of mine in Buenos Aires, who was always so impatient to get layers of colors on the canvas, would have loved this view of Warwick. The play of light and shadow over the contours of his body, the completely unselfconscious way he’s given himself over to pleasure…I would love to see him capture my Warwick at this very moment.
Finally, my mouth cedes the battle to my cock, and suddenly I’m the impatient one. Getting to my feet, ignoring the creaking in my knees, I order him, “Turn around.”
The painted aspect of him breaks as he comes back to the present. He bites his lip and complies immediately. Facing the wall, he leans into it and arches his back, giving himself to the moment. Cursing my poor, stupid heart, I spread his cheeks and spit on his hole, feeling crass against such beauty.
“Wait,” he says, reaching into his back pocket, the angle awkward. His wallet hits the ground. “Lube packet. No condom. Fuck me raw.”
I bend over for the wallet, ignoring the rush of blood to my head and the ache in my chest. We’ve never gone condomless, and I don’t know if it means anything at all. I fumble around in the wallet as I undo my button and unzip my pants, pulling them down just enough. Using my teeth, I rip open the packet of lube, getting some on my beard and a little in my mouth. I spit on the ground, not caring. Squeezing out the entire contents of the packet, I slick his crease up and down, side to side.
“Yeah, get it sloppy,” he says, leering back at me with hooded eyes.
“So impatient,” I tease, using my cock to further spread the lube.
“Just fuck me,” he snaps out, facing the wall and pushing his ass against me. “No prep. Justgo.”
With shaking hands, I push into him, the head of my cock breaching him halfway.
He lets out a pained groan, and I stop, pulling back. He shoots me a glare and, fuck, I'm so desperate to get inside him that I follow his lead. I push into his hole, one hand over his mouth to cover his cries. The only thing I can hear is “Yes, yes,yes” muffled behind my fingers.
It’s embarrassing how quickly I'm losing it, barely a few strokes. I’ve edged lovers all night, holding off my orgasm until the morning, but I’ve never had any control or sense of self-preservation around this man.
“I'm sorry, it's happening,” I say, no control over my hips. I bite my lips to prevent the rest of the words from flying out of my mouth.
I’m falling for you, Wick, and hitting the ground will hurt like a son of a bitch.
“Me too,” he says, squeezing tight around me, forcing the climax from the depths of my soul.
“Ay, coño,”I swear, nearly blacking out.
