The first press of my erection against his draws a gasp from Ryan that echoes across the clearing. Even through two layers of khaki, the contact is electric. He’s hard. Rock hard. And feeling the rigid length of him against mine sends a bolt of heat through my entire body that nearly finishes what his words started.
“Oh,” Ryan breathes. “Oh, that’s?—”
I roll my hips forward again, dragging the full length of my cock along his. The friction of fabric against fabric, of heat against heat, tears a groan from somewhere deep in my chest.
“Just feel it,” I murmur against his ear. “Just feel me.”
Ryan’s hands fly to my back, fingers digging into the fabric of my polo. His hips push up to meet mine, instinct overridinginexperience, and the added pressure makes my vision blur at the edges.
I pick up the pace. Not frantic—not yet—but steady. Purposeful. Each thrust grinds us together through our shorts, and the sound Ryan makes on the third one is so raw and unguarded that I have to bury my face in his neck to keep from losing it.
“You’re incredible,” I whisper into the skin below his ear. “You know that? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever known.”
“Oliver—” His voice breaks. His nails scrape down my back through the polo, and his legs fall open wider, cradling me between his thighs. The new angle is devastating. Every roll of my hips catches us just right. I can feel a wet spot forming at the front of my shorts where precome has soaked through.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I tell him, my lips brushing the shell of his ear with every word. “Wantedyoufor so long. You have no idea what you do to me.”
Ryan moans. Loud enough that the owl goes quiet and the crickets seem to pause. His head tips back against the blanket, baring the long line of his throat, and I press my mouth there, tasting salt and warmth.
“Don’t stop,” he gasps. “Please don’t stop.”
I couldn’t stop if I tried. My hips are moving faster now, grinding against him in a rhythm that’s building toward something inevitable. The blanket has rucked up beneath us, grass and fabric twisted together, and I don’t care. All I care about is the man underneath me, the sounds he’s making, the way his body arches up to meet mine on every thrust.
“You’re so beautiful,” I breathe against his throat. “So brave. Coming here, telling me what you want. That took guts, Ryan.”
“I learned from—ah—” He can’t finish the sentence. My hips snap forward harder, and whatever he was going to say dissolves into a moan that vibrates through both of us.
The pressure at the base of my spine is reaching critical mass.My balls are drawn up tight, and every nerve ending in my body is focused on the point where we’re pressed together, hard and hot and desperate.
His hands are moving. I register this distantly, too lost in sensation to fully process, until his palms are sliding beneath my shirt, skimming over the bare skin of my lower back. The contact is electric, and I shudder as his fingers trace the ridges of muscle along my spine.
Then his hands go lower.
Ryan’s palms cup my ass through my shorts, squeezing with a boldness that catches me completely off guard. His fingers dig into the thick muscle of my glutes, and he grips like he’s holding on for dear life.
“Jesus, Ryan,” I gasp, the dual sensation of his hands on my ass and our erections grinding together short-circuiting something in my brain. “Your hands?—”
“I’ve wanted to touch you here,” he confesses, breathless and flushed. “Since the naked sprint. God, Oliver, your body is?—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he squeezes harder, using his grip to pull me against him, to guide the rhythm of our movements. The pressure is exquisite, his fingers kneading the firm muscle. I’m hurtling toward the edge with alarming speed.
“I’m close,” Ryan whispers, and his voice is nothing like the composed and careful words he usually chooses. “Oliver, I’m going to—I can’t?—”
“Let go.” I press my lips to his temple. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
Ryan comes first.
I feel it happen before I hear it—his entire body goes rigid beneath me, every muscle locking, his fingers clawing into my ass hard enough to leave marks. Then the sound tears out of him, a cry that’s half my name and half something wordless and primal. Liquid warmth spreads between us, soaking through his khakis and against mine.
That’s what sends me over.
My hips stutter, grinding down hard, and I come in my shorts with a groan I couldn’t suppress if someone held a gun to my head. My toes curl in my flip-flops, the rubber soles bending under the pressure, and my arms shake where they’re braced on either side of Ryan’s head. My eyes roll back as wave after wave rolls through me, each pulse pushing more warmth into the fabric between us until I’m spent and trembling and barely holding myself up.
I collapse onto my elbows, careful not to crush him, and press my forehead against his. We’re both panting. Both destroyed. The night air cools the sweat on my neck, and somewhere nearby, the owl starts up again, apparently satisfied that the humans have concluded their business.
“Did we just…” Ryan’s voice is thin, breathless, edged with disbelief.
“Yeah.”
