He mimed for Cliff to unzip and take off his fleece vest, one more layer between them gone.
“Picasso Middleton is a mouthful,” Cliff said. “It sounds like the black sheep of the royal family.”
Brennan killed the lights, leaving only the soft glow of candlelight and the beam of moonlight peeking through the curtains.
Ready?
13
CLIFF
“Stand up,” Brennan said, his voice low and steady, his eyes holding him in place.
Chitchat time was over.
He sauntered over to Cliff, shoulders cocked back, and the mood instantly changed. The room had undergone an instant metamorphosis. His skin glowed in the candlelight, his face half-masked by darkness. Cliff wanted to put his lips on every inch of Brennan’s body. What they did in his dorm room lit a fire in his very dry forest. He had eighteen years of pent-up sexual demand ready to be unleashed.
“Take off your shirt.”
Cliff couldn’t get rid of clothing fast enough. Brennan grazed his fingers down his chest and stomach, then further south, slipping inside the waist of his jeans. Cliff’s cock went from zero to banging against the denim.
“Are you freeballing?” Brennan asked, temporarily thrown from his commanding tone.
“I thought it’d be more efficient.”
“I’ll be damned.” He cracked a carnivorous smile that Cliff felt in his balls. “How does it feel?”
“Freeing.” The new feeling left him with a perpetual erection. His cock felt every step of his journey to the loft.
Brennan circled Cliff, not leaving his waist. He dragged his fingers across the smooth skin, deploying goosebumps in their wake, and stopped just above the crack of his ass.
“I watched you walk away in Gorman today, and all I could think of was how much I wanted to grab your ass.” Brennan slid a greedy hand over his firm ass cheek and squeezed. Cliff emitted a hungry groan, his body an instrument ready to be taken out of its case and played.
“Picasso Middleton?” Brennan removed his hand.
“What? Did you want to stop?”
“No, I thought you were saying it. And I wanted to test it out.”
“I know how to say Picasso Middleton. We don’t need a dry run,” Cliff said impatiently. It was as if someone suddenly cut off his oxygen supply. He needed it back.
“Just let me know if I ever go too far.”
“I trust you.” Cliff managed to give him an assured look, despite being drunk on horniness. He was comfortable in knowing that they both had no idea what they were doing, but they were in it together. Brennan broke character to give him a grateful nod, then:
“Sit down.” He pointed at the chair.
Cliff dutifully complied.
Brennan pulled out the mysterious item from his back pocket, and Cliff’s eyes went wide with pleasure when he saw the red-and-blue striped tie. He couldn’t believe Brennan owned such a preppy piece of clothing.
“Put your hands behind your back.” His low growl vibrated in Cliff’s gut.
Brennan tiedhis hands behind the chair. He became more aware of the cool air blowing against his smooth chest from the ceiling fan above. Brennan gave his nipples a quick pinch, eliciting a gasp from Cliff.
“Smell.”
Cliff inhaled, intoxicated by the masculine heat coming off Brennan’s chest. He brushed his nose through the thin line of hair between his pecs. He flicked out his tongue for a lick.
