"That's the idea."
I take him into my mouth. Slow at first, letting him feel every inch of the slide, the wet heat of my tongue, the pressure of my lips. He's big, thick enough to stretch my jaw, long enough to bump the back of my throat when I take him deep.
His hand finds my hair, tangles in it, holds on without pushing. Letting me set the pace.
I don't want slow.
I pull back and take him again, faster this time, setting a rhythm that makes his thighs tremble. His cock slides across my tongue, hits the back of my throat, and I swallow around him, feel his body jerk.
"Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. Jesus Christ, Jinx."
I pull off with a wet pop, look up at him. His face is flushed, his lips parted, his eyes glazed with want.
"Turn around."
"What?"
"Turn around. Hands on the wall." I stand, crowd into his space. "I'm going to fuck you."
His breath catches. "Here? Now?"
"Here. Now." I reach into my pocket, pull out the small packet of lube I grabbed from our carry-on. Because I'm not an idiot, and I know myself and there’s no way I’m not fucking this man before we die. "Unless you have objections."
He stares at me. Then he turns, braces his hands against the wall, and looks at me over his shoulder.
"No objections."
I shove his pants down to his thighs, exposing his ass. Tight, muscular, perfect. I slick my fingers and press one against his hole, feel him tense and then relax as I push inside.
"More, faster," he demands.
"Greedy."
"For you? Always."
I add a second finger, work him open with quick, efficient strokes. We don't have time for slow, don't have time for teasing. The plane could hit turbulence at any moment. Someone could knock on the door. Jagger could come looking for us and put two and two together.
The danger makes it hotter.
"Ready?" I ask, slicking my cock.
"Been ready since the terminal."
I line up and push inside.
The sound he makes is muffled, bitten off, but it reaches me anyway. A low groan of pleasure and relief, like he's been waiting for this, needing this, aching for it the same way I have.
He's tight around me, his body gripping my cock like a fist. I sink in slowly, inch by inch, watching the way his shoulders tense, the way his breath stutters. When I bottom out, my hips flush against his ass, I hold there. Let us both feel it. The fullness. The connection.
"God," he breathes. "You feel so fucking good."
"So do you." I pull back slowly, watch my cock slide out of him, glistening with lube. Watch the way his hole clings to me, like his body doesn't want to let go. "Look at you. Taking me so well."
"Less talking. More fucking."
I slam back in, and he chokes on a moan.
I set a rhythm. Slow at first, dragging it out, making him feel every inch of my cock as it pumps in and out of his ass. The bathroom fills with the wet sound of skin on skin, the slick squelch of lube and precum, the harsh rasp of our breathing.
