They turned to each other, and Scott gripped Carver’s jaw in one hand, relishing the heat of him. Carver’s eyes had the low-lidded sheen of lust. He was giving Scott that look he so enjoyed, the look which read almost as a dare.
Scott responded to this by pushing Carver down on the mattress then yanking his t-shirt up over his head and off of him. He ran his hands down Carver’s chest and stomach, thumbing at his nipples, enjoying how soft and warm his body was to the touch. Carver closed his eyes and stretched his head back, exposing his throat and making the tendons of his neck and his Adam’s apple stand out in sharp relief. Scott leaned on and pressed a flurry of kisses to that lovely throat as he worked Carver’s running shorts and briefs off of him. His short beard scraped the few hours of stubble on Carver’s neck.
Carver sat up enough to start undressing Scott back, shimmying his boxers off him. Scott dispatched his tank top and lay back down across the mattress with Carver, stroking his hair with one hand while gathering both their semi-hard dicks in the other so he could grind them against each other. This felt really, really good, like that first incredible stretch in the morning. Carver inhaled and reached down to help him, and they both started to move their hips and thrust against each other.
“Scott,” Carver moaned, his voice rasping, and Scott’s dick throbbed. He wrapped his free arm around Carver, caging his body and pulling him closer.
With him in his arms, he felt the same thing he’d felt last night — that Carver really was a little too thin, his extremities of bone too close to the surface. This felt like a sister to the frantic need Carver showed when Scott touched him; here was a man deprived. If Carver let him hang around he could indulge him and sustain him, he could fuck him the way he liked to be fucked, he could hand Carver frying pans with which to beat people in the head. He would do it, he knew he would. Even as he felt the leanness of Carver’s body with his hands he didn’t feel that Carver was delicate; he felt the opposite, that he was strong and vital but had spent decades wandering a barren landscape and finding ways to survive. Scott wanted to give him what he needed and see who he could become.
They kissed each other more ravenously and rolled around on the mattress, bumping the sides of the van with their knees and elbows, scrabbling against each other for better angles from which to rub their dicks together. Finally Scott realized this wasn’t enough friction for him and breathed into Carver’s ear, “Do you want to fuck again?” and Carver said, “Yeah, yeah.”
Scott pulled himself away with difficulty and scrambled around for his duffel bag. He didn’t have lube, but he knew he had a little thing of Vaseline that he’d been using as lip balm,and he knew from experience that this could serve in a pinch. He turned back to Carver and saw him lying there, naked and handsome and ghostly in the thin light, then dove on him again. Carver slid his hands up the back of Scott’s neck and scraped his fingernails over his scalp as Scott worked fast to lube up his dick. He was achingly hard now; Carver’s nuzzles and sounds were making him crazy.
“Just put it in,” Carver murmured in his ear. “You don’t need to finger me, not after last night.”
This made Scott’s dick throb so hard he had to clench his teeth. He pressed his face to the side of Carver’s head, taking a deep drag from his hair, which smelled like cologne and cigarette smoke.
“You good?” Carver teased.
“Stop talking before I come on you.”
“Comeinme.” Carver reached down and took Scott’s dick in his hand, guiding him.
Scott felt his tip graze Carver’s asshole. Entranced, he chased that sensation with the rest of himself, driving into him with one long, slow, wonderful stroke. It was even easier than last night to slide in there, into that warm, loving embrace. Carver moaned, grabbing him by the hair and arching into him, his own very erect dick rubbing Scott’s stomach.
Scott kissed him desperately, diving back for more the instant that the seal of their mouths broke. Carver slowly brought his legs up, then crossed them behind Scott’s back and let out a new, higher-pitched kind of moan. On pure instinct, Scott rolled him onto his side and reentered him from behind. As Carver’s sweetest, deepest muscles yielded, he twisted his face into the mattress and passionately cried out Scott’s name, sending tingles up his spine and scalp. He felt a little animal when he was with Carver, a little frantic and brutal. This waswhat Carver wanted, and his desire for it was like a pair of jaws which dragged it from Scott.
He knew this was a good position, he could tell from the sounds Carver was making and the way he was bucking against him. It was good for Scott too — Carver felt tighter this way. He gripped Carver by the hair and began to fuck the hell out of him, worrying he was going too far but being rewarded with long, low moans and writhing. Scott didn’t realize how good it was for him until he found himself on the verge of orgasm, backpedaling away from the edge. Not yet, not yet. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to maintain equilibrium, but Carver was in his arms riding him like a jockey, and he only lasted for about another minute until he came in him with a great sigh.
“Come on,” Carver said, his voice thick with arousal.
“Sorry, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just make me come…”
Scott pulled out of Carver and rolled him onto his back, then slid down the mattress to take his dick in his mouth and push a few fingers inside him so he could rub his prostate at the same time. Carver let out a rapturous sigh and lay pliant, letting himself be handled.
He slid three fingers back into Carver, feeling the smooth clutch of hot slick muscle that was like being swallowed alive. It was a kinetic thrill, that sense of being drawn in, almost more thrilling when it was his hand and not his dick because there wasn’t the abrupt impediment of his pelvis — if he could work his entire hand into Carver he could keep going, he could slide his wrist in and then his arm. The thought of disappearing into him like this was intoxicating.
Scott took more of Carver’s erection into his mouth, until it nudged the entrance to his throat. Scott’s throat relaxed for this instead of protesting it. He sucked harder, wanting more of his salty taste, wanting to suck every last bit of it from him. Hecrooked his fingers at more of an angle, creating new pressure against Carver’s prostate, and relished in Carver crying out and gripping him by the hair.
There was enough room in Carver for his pinky, so Scott pushed it in and used this new dexterity to rub Carver’s prostate that much harder. Carver let out a sobbing high moan, almost yanking Scott’s hair out of his head. Saliva flooded Scott’s mouth, and he worked his tongue until he was nearly choking on Carver. His gag reflex activated, but he paid no attention — it wasn’t telling him anything important. He wanted Carver to come down his throat. He wanted very badly to swallow his cum. He felt if it were spilled anywhere else it would be wasted, that he might just have to lick it off the mattress. He crooked his fingers aggressively again, and Carver dropped one handful of his hair to bang his fist against the side of the van while screaming aloud — three loud rings of metal, maybe to cover up the scream. Then he came straight down Scott’s throat, and Scott, who had not swallowed anyone’s cum in about five years, felt waterboarded and pulled back from him in a panic.
Most of it had shot instantly down his esophagus, but Scott started coughing, and a little bit came back into his mouth and the periphery of his sinuses. He pulled his hand from Carver, continuing to cough. Carver sat up and pulled Scott’s head to his chest, stroking his hair.
“I’m good,” Scott said, then laughed.
Carver continued to pet him lazily, looking immensely satisfied. “You didn’t have to take me that deep,” he murmured after a few moments had passed.
“I wanted to.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You thought you were the only crazy one around here?”
Carver giggled and petted him more — his hair, his beard, his stomach and biceps and shoulders. He had nice hands, and Scottliked the way he used them. He always touched with intent, as if he’d studied your body and considered where to place his fingers before doing so.
They lay back down together and began to kiss. Carver’s tongue rooted through his mouth as if looking for his own semen to lick traces of it from Scott’s teeth and gums. Scott rutted his spent dick against Carver, feeling it pulse with interest as it worked its way back up to attention. He wrapped his hands around Carver’s waist and pressed against him, rubbing himself into the crease between his thighs, and Carver sighed with happiness.
