The air is hot and sticky all around us. It surrounds me and Carmine like a safe bubble. For all of our grinding and kissing, neither one of us have reached to push the towel or pants down. To move things along.
“Bedroom?” I grunt out the question after breaking the kiss. My cock is so hard that it almost hurts, but this is not why I want to move. No. I want to be somewhere that we can lay out. Comfortable.
After all, my stitches, bruises and scabbing cuts are throbbing. It’s not enough to stop me from my horny needs, but it is enough to make couch sex unpleasant.
“Come on,” Carmine tells me through panted breath. He slides off my lap with a hum, and I see the tenting in his pants. It makes me smirk dizzily.
He extends a hand out to me and I take it, allowing him to help me up. The second I stand up, the towel that has been thoroughly mussed up, falls from my waist and to the floor. My hard length springs up slightly and Carmine’s eyes travel down to it, then up the rest of my body to my eyes.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he mumbles.
“Even all beat up?” I ask with another crooked grin.
He licks his lips. “Maybe more.”
Precum drips from my tip at that, and I feel my stomach clench.
“Get me to the bedroom before we don’t make it,” I tell him.
He nods and leads me out of the living room down the hallway and into a dimly lit bedroom with a four-poster bed.
Carmine lets go of my hand and walks over to the nightstand, opening the drawer.
“You’re prepared this time?” I ask him playfully, and I move to sit on the end of the bed.
“This house is more of a vacation house, less of a safe house,” he admits with a sly smile. “I figured we may as well enjoy ourselves before we get run off.”
My face falls slightly. “You think Eivor’s gonna send someone else?”
He sets what appears to be a tube of lube and a condom on the bed. We haven’t used a condom before, but it doesn’t bother me if he wants to.
“And you don’t?” he raises a brow. Carmine steps closer to me and rubs his hands down my chest. His fingers brush along the hair at my pecs and down my stomach. I can’t help but to close my eyes and relish in the feeling.
“You’re right,” I mumble.
He chuckles. “Say that again.”
I smile and reach out, grabbing him by the hips. This time my hands slide around to his belt line and I undo his belt and the zipper of his jeans.
“You’re. Right,” I croon out in a low tone.
“Mm. Yes I am,” Carmine matches my tone and steps between my thighs as I push his pants and boxers down. His length finally free from the confines of the fabric.
We’re done talking.
Carmine’s mouth finds mine again and I claim his just as eagerly. He steps out of his pants, and my hands begin to work on his shirt. And then he’s just as naked as I am.
I reach down to stroke his dick, but he stops me with a soft grunt.
“Hm?”
“Let me help you…” Carmine insists. “Let me kiss it better.” He leans his head down and kisses the shoulder that was stabbed.
I groan softly, half in pain, half in pleasure.
“Please,” I rumble out.
I let him take control. His movements are not dominant so much as firm but affectionate. My skin is so hot that I can hardly breath and he only makes me hotter as he kisses down my chest, across to my other shoulder and back down again. His lips are soft and he leaves little wet spots all over my skin.
