Wycke stood possibly four inches over Piers’ five foot eleven, making Piers tilt his head for kisses. So, so, worth any effort.
With a smile likely to make Piers’ clothes fall off on their own, Wycke bowed, removing his boots, somehow managing to keep his golden-eyed gaze riveted on Piers’ face.
Piers sat on the edge of the bed to remove his own shoes when Wycke knelt in front of him. “Allow me.” Wycke removed one tennis shoe, then the other, pulling off socks together. Taking Piers’ foot into both hands, he kissed the instep, the ankle, then grabbed the hem of Piers’ jeans, pulling while Piers lay back, sliding off the denim.
Dropping the jeans to the floor, Wycke stepped back, tugging his shirt upward. He whipped off the shirt with a move worthy of a professional stripper, letting it sink to the floor. He wore no belt and made short work of removing his dark pants.
Piers’ mouth went dry. Wycke wore nothing underneath. His erect, uncut cock stood out from a nest of pale curls.
Piers lost himself in the wonder of Wycke’s body. Wiry muscles graced Wycke’s frame, a runner’s or swimmer’s build, rather than the more defined muscles Piers saw working out at the gym with Jess while she pointed out the guys she liked.
Very little hair, smooth skin. If only Piers could see better in the dark. The room brightened between one moment and the next. He wouldn’t stop to worry about why now.
As long as Wycke made no comment.
This close, Piers noticed the lack of stubble on Wycke’s smooth chin. His brows and eyelashes were the same pale white as his hair, nearly transparent.
“Like what you see?” Wycke asked, voice a husky whisper.
A glimpse of his face showed, not gloating, but maybe a bit of doubt. Did he worry Piers wouldn’t be attracted to his body? “Oh, yes.” Time to speak with actions, not words. Piers dropped to his knees, licking a path along the underside of Wycke’s cock. Long, thin, in perfect proportion to Wycke’s body, curved slightly to the left. Piers skimmed the foreskin back, running his tongue around the bulbous head. He gripped the firm, round globes of Wycke’s ass.
The scent and taste spurred something deep inside, like the weird sensation when Piers stepped into his new apartment the first time and felt like he’d finally come home. The same sense of rightness came from Wycke, like Piers had waited a lifetime to have this man in his arms. He barely knew the guy, but with Wycke, Piers felt comfort. Hope.
Something sizzled between them, a low buzzing in his ears.
Wycke reached beneath Piers’ arms and tugged him upward. “Uh, uh, uh. Why should you get to have all the fun? Besides, there’s this nice big bed I’ve fantasized about having you in.”
He’d fantasized? About Piers? Nah, Wycke probably used the same line a thousand times.
Piers found himself on his back, staring into glittering golden eyes. Lips came down on his. Fire raced over his skin wherever Wycke touched. Then Wycke cupped Piers’ face in one warm palm to devour his mouth, running gentle fingers over his abs down to his groin. He stroked Piers’ cock in a firm grip. Piers arched off the bed. He’d gone much too long without a hand on his cock other than his own.
Wycke watched him, a little half-smile playing on his lips. “This is nothing,” he said, shifting, then taking Piers’ cock into his mouth. Swallowed so fast! With no warning!
Piers groaned, eyes sliding shut and fingers clutching involuntarily at the bedcovers. Oh, damn. Oh, damn. Oh, double damn!
“Open your eyes. I want you to see who’s making you moan.”
Piers forced his eyes open, staring down at a mischievous smirk.
The gorgeous, too-good-to-be-true vision dragged the flat of his tongue up Piers’ shaft, around the crown, then took him deep again. Piers writhed on the bedcovers, clenching his teeth to stave off the orgasm threatening to arrive way too soon. Watching his cock getting worked over would send him over the edge any second now.
No! More time. Piers needed more time. This couldn’t end so soon. Not when he’d yet to explore Wycke’s body.
His hand bumped something solid, and he opened his eyes. A bottle of lube and an unwrapped condom lay on the bed. He’d not seen Wycke move to get them.
Suddenly, how they got there no longer mattered when Wycke sheathed his cock in latex and worked slick fingers into Piers’ body. A slight burn reminded Piers of how much time had passed since he last bottomed. Yes, much too long with his hand providing his only release.
Wycke lifted one of Piers’ legs over his shoulder and lined up, easing in with shallow thrusts. Too much! Too large! Piers panted through the initial invasion.
Wycke stopped, lust and something more in his eyes. “Okay?”
Piers clenched his jaw and nodded, gripping Wycke’s biceps and holding his breath through the next push. The head of Wycke’s cock slid past the tight ring of muscle at Piers’ entrance.
He looked into the shining amber eyes, a curtain of white brushing against his skin. He’d been right. Soft, like the finest silk.
Inch by slow inch, Wycke joined their bodies. When his balls finally brushed Piers’ ass, he leaned over and connected their mouths. Lightning crackled around them, a vortex of raw power. How much had Piers drunk? Just the one?
“So fucking good!” he managed enough working brain cells to say. “I’ll give you until forever to stop.”
