He nodded, and I exhaled, then pushed.
He hit the bed with a quiet grunt, the mattress dipping under his weight. I followed, kneeling between his spread thighs, my hands already going to his belt. The leather hissed as I pulled it free, the buckle clinking against the floor. His cock was hard under the fatigues, the outline thick and obvious when I palmed him through the fabric. He made a sound—low, rough, almost a growl—and his hips lifted enough to press into my touch.
“Caleb,” he said, voice rougher than I’d ever heard it.
I ignored him.
His briefs were black, stretched tight over the heavy ridge of his cock, the head already damp at the tip. I stripped them off slowly, letting the fabric drag over his skin, watching the way his tattooed abs clenched when the cool air hit him.
He had the kind of cock that would stretch a man open, whether he was ready or not, and I wanted that inside me next. Pre-come beaded at the slit, and when I leaned in, the scent of him filled my lungs, and my mouth watered. It had been way too long since I’d tasted a man, since I’d done anything with a man, and I didn’t tease. Didn’t lick the tip or trace the vein with my tongue. I took him in one go, hollowing my cheeks, letting the weight of him press my throat open. His breath hissed out, sharp, and his hands flew to my hair, fingers tangling in the strands. Not to guide me, but tohold on.
“Fuck—” His voice broke. His hips jerked once, shallow, as if he was trying to stop himself from fucking my face. “You need to breathe!” he added with a hint of panic.
I stopped sucking for a moment. “I can breathe, and you wanted this,” I reminded him, my thumb smearing the pre-come over his crown. “So shut up and let me work.”
His answer was a deep, guttural groan when I took him back in.
I worked him slowly, tongue swirling around the head before taking him deep again, my free hand gripping the base. His thighs tensed under my palms, the muscles jumping every time I swallowed around him. I could feel his pulse in the thick root of his cock, the way his breath came faster, rougher, every time I licked the underside.
His tattoos were a landscape. I traced them with my fingers when I needed to breathe—tribal patterns around his biceps, various scripts over his ribs, a stylized cross over his heart. My lips brushed the ink when I leaned in, tasting salt and sweat.
“This one’s new,” I murmured against his skin, thumbing fresh black lines near his collarbone. I bit him there. Not hard, but enough to make him hiss, his fingers twisting in my hair. His cock twitched against my stomach, leaking more pre-come, the wet heat smearing between us.
I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. His cock stood thick and flushed, the head dark with blood, a string of saliva connecting it to my bottom lip. His chest heaved, his tattoos shifting with every breath.
“Condom,” he ground out, scrabbling for the supply.
I reached for the nightstand, tearing one free. “Not yet.”
His eyes snapped to mine, dark and furious. “It’s taking too long. I don’t need this?—”
“I saidnot yet.” I tossed the condom aside and grabbed the lube. His thighs were spread wide, his balls heavy and drawn uptight. I slicked my fingers, the cool gel warming fast between my palms.
He watched me, his breath coming in sharp bursts, his cock jerking every time I touched him. I didn’t rush. I traced the pucker of his hole first with the pad of my finger, circling slowly, pressing in knuckle-deep, then crooking my fingers until his back arched off the bed.
“Fuck—fuck—” His voice was a wreck, his hands fisting in the sheets.
I added a second finger, scissoring them, watching his face. His lips were parted, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip hard enough to leave marks. Sweat beaded at his temples, his tattoos glistening under the dim light.
“You’reso hard,” I murmured, pressing deeper. His hole clenched around my fingers, hot and slick. “Look at you. All that control you’ve got, and two fingers in your ass, and you’re a fuckingmess.”
His eyes burned. “Caleb,now?—”
“No.”
I leaned in, my mouth close to his. His breath was ragged, his lips parted, but when I tried to kiss him, he turned his head, his cheek brushed mine, his stubble rough against my skin.
Fine. I’d tried again, and kissing, I could work up to next time.
Next time?
I didn’t push. Just exhaled against his mouth, our breaths mingling, his panting and mine steady. His cock twitched between us, trapped against my stomach, leaking onto my skin.
“Please,” he rasped.
I pulled my fingers free, slicked my cock, and rolled the condom on. I lined up, my cock pressing against him, and gestured for him to turn onto his belly?—
His hand shot out, gripping my wrist. “Face-to-face.”
