It had been his idea, but Cloister still felt the brief impulse to tell Javi to fuck off. From the smirk Javi gave him, that urge showed on his face. Cloister resisted it, swallowed the words, and unbuckled Javi’s belt. The leather was soft under his fingers, the metal buckle cold, and the thought skittered through his head that Javi might want to use that on him. The image of it, half-formed and tentative, was ridiculous. He was six foot one, and the one time his uncle tried to leather the attitude out of him, he’d punched him. But it was kind of hot as hell.
Not as hot as this, though. Cloister finished unfastening Javi’s trousers. His cock jutted up out of the fly, and Cloister pulled them down. He bent over to press his mouth to Javi’s taut stomach. The muscles clenched under his lips and clenched again—harder—when he scraped his teeth over the ridge of muscle. He shifted to the side. The mattress shifted under his weight, and he ran his hand up Javi’s thigh. With his fingertips he skimmed the tight skin through the scattering of fine hair and brushed the velvet-soft skin of Javi’s balls. The contact made Javi suck in a hard breath, and his cock bounced impatiently. Cloister slid his hand back and followed the hard ridge of skin back from Javi’s balls toward his ass. The rough swipe of a callused finger against the nerve-rich area made Javi curse and squirm in place.
“Mouth,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Not hands.”
“Recon,” Cloister said. He grinned when Javi lifted his head off his arms long enough to glare at him. “What? I’m taking your advice.”
It took a moment—Javi stared at him like he’d never seen him before—but then Javi snorted. “Shut up and suck me off.”
Cloister ignored that pinch of rebellion again and did as he was told. He tugged Javi’s thighs apart with his hands and pressed a wet, tonguing kiss against the base of his cock. Every breath he took was thick with the smell of sex and Javi, the taste of him on Cloister’s tongue. He licked his way up the shaft, the pulse of blood under the skin tangible against his tongue, and wrapped his lips around the head.
The glaze of precome was sticky. He lapped at it, rolled his tongue around the hard curve of the glans, and dipped into the slit. The noise that scraped out of Javi wasn’t quite a swear word, but all the guttural intensity was there.
Cloister slid his head down and rubbed his lips against the shaft and his tongue against the base. It pressed against the roof of his mouth—thick and hot as he breathed around it. He swallowed hard, and the convulsive movement of throat and tongue made Javi groan out his name. He tangled his hand in Cloister’s hair, pressed his knuckles against his skull, and pulled his head back. The dark length of his cock slid wetly from between Cloister’s lips, and he lifted his eyes to look up at Javi.
His crisp white shirt was wrinkled and stained, glued to Javi’s shoulders and ribs with sweat. His face was set in controlled, reserved lines, but arousal flushed his cheekbones and up to his temples.
“I was right.” Javi tugged Cloister’s head back a notch farther. His eyes were very dark as he studied the tight line of Cloister’s jaw and throat. Behind him Cloister could see the night sky through the long, narrow window that stretched across the back of the trailer. “You look good with your mouth wrapped around my cock. I think I have an idea for where you’d look even better.”
He flipped Cloister onto his back and left him sprawled there while he got off the bed. Cloister reached down, cupped his hand around his cock, and idly stroked it while he watched Javi strip off his trousers. Javi retrieved a condom from his back pocket and then folded the pants neatly and set them on the narrow bedside table.
“So you were a Boy Scout?” Cloister asked.
“It you fail to plan, plan to fail,” Javi said. He slid the thin, latex sheath on and added a slippery layer of lube. He squeezed roughly at his cock as he worked it from base to tip. “Maybe you should try being prepared.”
Cloister stretched, touched his fingertips to the window, and extended his bare feet over the end of the bed. “I date guys who carry condoms in their pocket,” he said. “That’s good enough for the Scouts, right?”
For a second, Javi hesitated with his hand on his cock. Maybe hehadbeen a Boy Scout and was offended at Cloister dragging them into this, or he was just disgusted at Cloister’s lack of foresight—although there was a box of condoms in the bathroom. Whatever he was, he got over it after a second.
Javi grabbed Cloister’s legs, graced a caress around the bump of his ankle with his thumb, and pulled him to the end of the bed. Cloister squirmed as Javi reached a lubed-up hand between his legs and probed his fingers into his ass. Cloister bit his lip and took a deep breath, enjoying the slippery intrusion and aching for more at the same time.
“Nothing to say?” Javi taunted.
Cloister swallowed. His throat was so dry it felt like his voice needed lube. “Fuck you,” he cracked out.
Javi smiled. “Since you asked nicely.” He took his fingers back, and Cloister’s ass clenched around the absence. “Lift your legs.”
Cloister raised his knees and pulled them toward his stomach. He could feel the strain in the backs of his thighs as the position drew his ass tight. It felt more vulnerable—more exposed—than fucking against Javi’s window. Javi stroked the taut cheeks. The trail of his fingers sent tickles of anticipation down Cloister’s nerves, and then he pushed them apart with his thumbs. The hard nudge of Javi’s cock against his ass made Cloister suck in a breath and the muscles in his stomach tense. It turned into pressure and a dull, heavy burn as he stretched around the width of Javi’s erection.
It felt good. The heat crawled up and followed his taint from his ass to his balls. A hot weight pressed down in his groin. He lifted his hips and pushed up into the thrust until he could feel Javi’s thighs and the swing of his balls against his ass.
Javi moved his hands to Cloister’s knees, and his fingers grazed over the old nightmare-proof scar tissue on one leg. Javi looked down at the join of their bodies.
“Look at that,” he said. “I told you this would look even better.”
Javi leaned in with his weight against Cloister’s legs, and his cock managed to somehow fit an impossible half inch deeper. With a smirk tucked into the corner of that thin, FBI-smug mouth of his, he watched Cloister pant and squirm as his muscles flexed helplessly around the cock inside him.
“Sonofabitch,” Cloister muttered as he pressed his head back against the bed. Heat pulsed inside him—a steady ache of pleasure that balanced just on the edge of being more. “Javi. Please, just, God, please?”
The begging struck heat in Javi’s eyes and flared in the back of his pupils, and he began to move. Cloister gagged out something that was half cursing, half taking the Lord’s name in vain and Javi’s name mixed up in both. He clenched his fists, twisted the sheet into knots between his fingers, and rocked his hips into the thrusts.
Javi shifted forward, braced his knee against the mattress, and dropped one hand to Cloister’s hip. He dug his fingers in and hooked his thumb over the ridge of Cloister’s hipbone as he thrust harder. Each thrust buried his cock inside Cloister, and jolts of sharp, black sensation shot up his spine as it jostled his prostate.
He shook one hand free of the sheets and grabbed his cock. The tender skin folded and wrinkled as he tugged at it roughly, closed his eyes, and imagined Javi’s hand on him instead.
“Open your eyes.” Javi’s voice straggled on the ragged edge of breathless. “Look at me when you come.”
Cloister opened his eyes, tightened his fingers around his cock, and pumped his hand up and down in skin-chafing time to Javi’s thrusts. He watched the play of muscle under sweat and Javi’s skin, the clench and stretch of it, and the way Javi chewed his lower lip as he struggled to hang on to control. The orgasm wrung out of Cloister spilled white over his fingers and across his skin in a wash of almost pain. It left him sweaty and limp, with come smeared over his stomach and his brain waiting to reboot.
