“Coming,” I grind out.
It’s not the special lube, or the fact that I’m rutting him raw that’s shooting my testosterone through the roof. It’s him. Motherfucker, it’s him. I’m fucking him so hard his heels are coming up from the floor. He’s letting me be every bit the toppy, dominant, greedy lover that I want to be, but he’s also got me so wrapped around his little finger that I’d sign over my shop if he asked.
It’s this thought—thisknowing—he controls me as much as I control him, that pushes me over. Grunting, I give one lastthrust, then roar as I shoot deep inside him, the orgasm running roughshod through my body.
Every cell, every organ, every part of me has given itself over to him. Shivering out the last of the orgasm, I give a few more comforting fucks, bringing his boneless body down with mine.
I blink, and there’s come all over the pedestal and sink, even a few splatters on the mirror.
“Jesus, baby boy. Look at the mess you made.”
“’t’s your fault,” he mumbles, so drunk on my cock.
I pull back a little, watching my cock slip in and out of his body, a little of my cum escaping with each thrust.
Finally, I pull free from him, but keep him in place, pressing his hips against the sink as I tug aside a cheek.
“You know how I know this ass is mine?” I ask, shaking the soft muscle.
He responds by pulsing his fucked-out hole, chuckling as cum drips down the split of him.
“Good answer.”
21
TRUETT
Rami’s asleep,curled up on his side in my bed, sunlight setting his pretty dark hair aflame. I spoon him, letting my hand drift down his ribs to his hip, admiring his trim build and soft skin, like maybe he goes to the gym but also uses high-end lotion and doesn’t think too much about being ripped. The dark hair on his chest looks gorgeous against his light-tan skin, and my fingers keep going back to the little fan of hair sticking out above his ass crack.
He can definitely afford to get waxed or lasered, so this isn’t a matter of finances or even scheduling. Having only spent a few moments with his fathers, there’s something natural about the way they are with each other. They’re beautiful men, both pushing sixty, even though they look like they’re in their forties. As a barber who stares at men’s faces all day long, I can’t spot a single drop of Botox or filler on either of them.
Nothing wrong with Botox. It’s just not their style. I bet they raised Rami with similar sensibilities.
Letting my hand drift down from his hip to cup the soft perfection of his ass, I imagine what it would’ve been like forRami to grow up in the Hill Country. I’d bet my last dollar that a shy cowboy took his virginity, that he probably has a pair of worn-in cowboy boots of his own. He’s always struck me as comfortable in his wealth, but maybe some of that has to do with simply being comfortable in himself. He doesn’t need to perform for the hyper-primped culture in Austin.
People sometimes confuse his comfort for arrogance—I certainly had—but spending extended naked time with a person will give you a pretty good view into their personality. One thing I know for certain: Rami is not arrogant. Privileged, of course, confident in himself, certainly, but not at the expense of or in comparison to others.
And a born bottom to boot. Sure, his dating apps all say vers, but that speaks more to his generosity as a lover and less about his natural inclinations. Not one to deny myself pleasure or force myself into any one box, I make a note to heavily top from the bottom should the occasion ever arise.
Humming, I pull aside his cheek again, admiring how the recovery lube left his furry hole so pretty. Remembering what he confessed last night, I reach across him for the bottle.
I slick myself, then press against his relaxed hole, achingly careful as I push into his warm, helpless body before pulling his back against my chest. He warned me he slept hard, and he hadn’t been lying.
Laying love bites on the fleshy part of his shoulder, I gently thrust into him, hugging and fucking him, hooked on every detail. In the realm of bad ideas, boning Rami Bash raw and completely at my mercy is king.
But he’s a drug I can’t put down. More to the point, I don’t want to.
He says he likes the mix of pleasure and pain, but I don’t think he understands how much I held back last night. Or how much doing that means I want him again and again, to push his limits, to make him beg for it.
Having a cock this big is often a liability, and more than one man has requested the side menu, which I happily oblige. But Rami has yet to back down from a challenge, and that stroked my ego hardcore.
I press my palm against his lower belly to feel my invasion of his body and can’t help the filthy smile on my face. So soft, so sleepy, so perfect. I run my nose up his neck, pushing deeper inside him.
“Mm.”
I go deeper.
“Wha—”
