On impulse, Eliot pressed his tongue against that spot. He knew he couldn’t bite or suck, couldn’t risk that kind of thing being noticed or commented on when they went back downstairs, so this was the next best thing. The salty tang of Danny’s skin would have to be enough until they could do this somewhere more private.
Eliot bit down on his own lip to stop himself from crying out, rocking his hips against Danny’s. He squeezed their cocks a little tighter, sped up his strokes now that they were both leaking precome to slick the way.
Already, he was starting to feel the urge to buck and writhe against Danny, to close his eyes and ride him, his cock deep inside Eliot instead of in his hand. He wanted more, so much more, but he knew he’d have to wait.
Danny’s fingers dug into the flesh of Eliot’s ass, anchoring him in place and limiting his movement. That was fine. The closer he could get to Danny, the better.
Closing his eyes to take in the sound of Danny panting into his ear, the feel of their cocks sliding together in his hand, Eliot stifled a deep, heartfelt moan against Danny’s shoulder. His stomach was tight with anticipation, his orgasm building deep in his gut.
This was never going to be artful or drawn-out; it was desperate, needy sex between two people who’d been denying themselves for too long. Fast and messy and so good, so good Eliot almost couldn’t stand it.
All the same, Eliot held back a little, slowed his strokes for a moment, took a few seconds to appreciate every sensation, from the heat of Danny’s mouth next to his ear, to the way their balls were nestled together, brushing against each other as they moved.
“Little more,” Danny gritted out, barely a whisper. Eliot nodded in understanding, tightening his grip and rocking his hips into Danny’s.
Holding back wasn’t an option anymore. Eliot tightened his thighs around Danny’s legs, holding them both in place and resting his forehead against the other man’s. He could hear both of them panting, soft moans punctuating every third or fourth breath, just loud enough for each other to hear.
Eliot’s heart clenched at the intimacy of the moment, even with all the lust and desperation and urgency. Being with Danny felt good. He felt like this was exactly where he belonged.
Working both of their cocks harder and faster than ever, Eliot seized Danny’s mouth again to muffle his shout when he came. Their lips connected just in time, Eliot screwing his eyes shut as his orgasm hit him, making him jolt forward against Danny as the pressure that had been building burst. The first wave was white-hot, searing, almost too much to bear. A physical force that made Eliot feel as though he’d been struck by a speeding train, just for a split second.
Eliot’s grip on the back of the couch tightened, his fingernails digging into the leather as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. A low, deep grunt and a rush of fluid over the back of his hand told him Danny had come as well, so he slowed his strokes down, loosening his grip a little as they both enjoyed a few seconds of bliss.
Once he was done, Eliot heaved a heavy, satisfied sigh and let Danny take his entire weight for a few moments, enjoying the post-orgasm closeness. His skin was still tingling, his balls still brushing up against Danny’s.
Despite this being a quick, needy handjob in a stranger’s house, it felt right. Loving, even, though that was too big and scary a word for the moment.
As soon as he’d recovered enough to think straight, Eliot sat back and reached into his jacket pocket.
“Are those baby wipes?” Danny raised an eyebrow as Eliot produced a small plastic package.
“They’re face wipes,” he explained.
“I have oily skin,” he added when Danny continued to look skeptical. “They’re cucumber?” he tried, since his explanation clearly still wasn’t satisfactory.
“And you carry them with you?” Danny asked.
“Yes. You wanna judge me, or do you want to not be covered in come for the rest of the night?” Eliot asked, raising his own eyebrow.
Danny sat back, chuckling as he exposed his stomach for Eliot to clean up. They’d both managed to miss each other’s shirts, as far as Eliot could tell, which was about as close to a miracle as he’d ever seen. He cleaned his hands, and then used the same wipe to clean Danny’s skin as well.
Danny hissed as he did it, flinching away from him. “Ow,” he complained.
Eliot snorted. “It’s just the alcohol in the wipes. Like aftershave,” he explained.
“I don’t put aftershave on my dick,” Danny said.
“Quit being a baby.” Eliot stood and tossed the waste paper basket, figuring it’d go unnoticed. “And I can tell you’ve never bothered to tidy up down there, don’t worry,” he added, tucking himself back into his underwear and zipping his pants back up.
Danny went silent for a moment. “Is, uh… is that a problem?” he asked, sounding genuinely unsure.
Eliot looked back up at him, stepping closer to stand between his still-spread legs. Danny was obviously not the kind of man who bounced right back from a good orgasm, which was kind of endearing.
The way he was all spread out and dopey was hot, too. Eliot wet his lips, storing that image away for later.
“No.” Eliot shook his head. “We’re different people. That’s what I like about you.”
“So you like me, huh?” Danny grinned up at Eliot, his eyes dancing.
