The words are muffled, because Cade’s mouth is already on mine again. I push him harder into the wall and bring one hand up to pin his forehead back, holding him still as I push his mouth open wider to explore. It’s a slow, lascivious kiss, and I get so lost in it I almost forget that we need to do anything else.
Cade lets out a whine, though, which snaps my attention back to the present. I can feel how hard he is, needy and grinding against me, and I know he’s close to losing it just from this.
Watching him fall apart whenever I truly dominate him is something I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of.
“You’ve been hard this entire time, haven’t you?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth in a growl, I yank at the collar of his jersey to suck bruising kisses into the skin beneath. He smells like mud and clean sweat, and the salt and musk is an incredible assault on my senses. All I can feel is CadeCadeCade and it’s making my rational brain flatline.
I grind the heel of my hand just a little too hard into his erection, and watch the flush that climbs up his neck as he inhales sharply.
“Have you always been this much of a slut for getting an engine between your legs? Or are you feeling neglected?”
Cade honest-to-god whimpers, and I don’t give him the chance to answer before I’m forcing my tongue into his wet, waiting mouth.
I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why I get like this with him sometimes. It feels like nothing’s enough. I want to crawl inside him and wear his skin like a suit of armor, but I can’t, and I don’t know how to put that into any words that make sense. So all I’m left with is pawing at him and marking him and turning him inside out and doing anything it takes to make him scream.
And Cade, for whatever reason, seems to be hardwired to turn to jello for someone willing to rough him up and put him in his place. I don’t want to know why, actually. At least if I’m the one doing it, I know it’s because I love him so fucking much there’s too much emotion to get out of me any normal, not-kinky way.
So, we don’t talk about it. We just feel.
I scrabble at Cade’s clothes as he pants at me, yanking his jersey up and hooking it over his head so it’s still tight across his shoulders, looking like he’s about to burst out of the seams. Then I pin both of his wrists over his head, his body squirming beneath mine, as I use my free hand to yank open his pants and drag them down to his thighs.
When I take a second to look at my handiwork, it already takes my breath away. He’s filthy everywhere the clothes didn’t cover, mud arcing over every line of his body. There are red indents from everywhere his clothes have been strangling him, and his entire chest is heaving with every breath he takes. At the center of it all, his cock strains toward me, as if it knows only I can give him what he needs, already pink-tinged and wet at the tip.
“You didn’t answer me,” I say, my voice low as I hold my face close to his.
“Uh,” is the sound that escapes him, breathy and formless, his brain already struggling to keep up with whatever endorphins he’s bathing his internal organs in right now.
“‘Uh’ is not an answer,” I say, reaching out to flick the swollen tip of his cock with my finger, pulling a strangled sound out of Cade and making the whole length of his penis flex for me, like some kind of magic trick. “Have you always been such a slutty rider, or is this just for me?”
“You,” he manages to get out, his voice choked and pitched too high. “All for you.”
I reward him by palming his length, and the way the hot skin pulses under my touch tells me he’s already close. I’m torn between wanting to drag this out, or make him come early and then fuck him boneless through the oversensitivity.
Either way, it needs to be quick. I’m too fucking turned on to let this drag on forever. Cade’s not the only one whose motor is running after this little throwback afternoon.
“Where’s the lube?” I ask, trying not to smile at the face he makes while he’s attempting to concentrate.
“Wha-?”
“I know you brought some, because you can’t resist the chance to get dicked down over a motorcycle. Don’t tell me you don’t have any, because I’ll call you a liar.”
“Pants. Back pocket.”
He grits the word out as I stroke his length, my grip tight enough to border on painful, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s trying not to come.
“None of that, slut. I want you to come for me as soon as you can,” I say, but let go of his cock as soon as I do, leaving him panting and sagging behind me.
I snag his jeans and sift through the pockets until I find the small tube he shoved in there, slathering my hand with some before I turn back to him. He’s still in the same position, hands up against the wall even though I’m not holding them, dick out and desperate for my touch.
Slick sounds fill the air as I coat his needy cock in lube, stroking him a few more times than is strictly necessary, but needing to feel him shudder beneath me again.
“Silas,” he moans, his voice thin and reedy.
“What is it, slut? Isn’t this what you need?”
Cade doesn’t say anything, just exhales loudly, trying to get his hips closer to me even as I take his wrists back into my hand to continue pinning him. I drop his cock, reaching beneath him to palm his balls, rolling them in my hand for a few seconds while he whines before moving even further. His thighs are still trapped together by his pants, so I have to push to get my slick fingers in between his cheeks and find his hole.
