35. 35

35

Ant Decker

I check the hallway again. It’s well-lit but completely deserted so I push the door open just enough that I’m able to slip through it. I close it quickly behind me.

The room is like any of a thousand other hotel rooms I’ve stayed in across the country. Staid, practical décor with a luxurious slant and soft, ambient lighting that makes the space glow.

It’s different, though, because this room comes complete with an almost totally naked Robbie McGuire on his hands and knees with his legs open wide enough to show off the cleft of his ass and a dark, shadowy hint of his hole. There are reams and reams of golden skin on view. So much skin. Skin stretched over tightly corded muscles in his back, arms, and legs. Skin soft to the touch. Smooth. Hot. A perfect, silky vista broken only by a slutty pair of socks that have been pulled up to his calves and a hot-pink lacy jock strap that cuts into the perfect mounds of his cheeks .

I’m not expecting the lace.

I lose my footing and slump back, briefly crumpling against the door as I fight to regain my composure. My hand is on my heart, clutching at my chest, and I gurgle the words, “Hot. So fucking hot.”

Robbie looks over his shoulder and smiles. It’s the sweetest, most sinful smile I’ve ever seen. I’m lost in it. Drowning. Swimming. Living. Only managing to clamber back into a fully upright position when he arches his back hard. A deep line dips in his back, traveling up his spine, and his cheeks part. His hole is slick, glittering with lube, just like I told him.

That jolts me out of my stupor.

I tear my clothes off. Jacket. Shirt. Shoes and socks on the floor. I drop my pants and underwear, pushing them down as I fall to my knees and crawl to Robbie. I’m aching, shaking with need, tangled in my boxers and pants, unable and unwilling to do a thing about it.

I make a low, abhorrent sound when I get to him. A sound born in the type of hunger and lust that drowns out my humanity.

I spit savagely on my cock and stroke it twice. “You ready?”

“I’m ready. ”

He sounds far away and close at the same time. Like maybe he stopped existing as something separate from me a while back, and I’m such a dumbass that I’ve only just noticed the change.

I take his cheeks in both hands and pull them apart, keening again when a trickle of lube runs out of him. I coat my dick in it and notch my head into the tight heat of him with the pad of my thumb. His ring is soft and relaxed. Prepped just like I asked him. He swallows me whole, his muscles pulling and pushing on me. Sucking me in and catapulting me straight into heaven. I thrust once. Twice. Long, deep strokes that reach inside me and strangle my cock. My balls. My brain. The pleasure is insane. It’s acute. An avalanche. More concentrated goodness than I’ve ever felt. So much, I can’t contain it.

I can’t.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

I can’t contain it.

My hips buck and my entire body starts spasming. Pleasure pours out of me like a raging inferno. It ravages me, burning me to a crisp, turning me inside out, and leaving me weak and immobile when it’s over.

“Oh fuck,” I rasp. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Robbie. ”

He turns his head and gives me the same look he gave me earlier when he scored his goal. A smug, sexy smirk that hits me right between the eyes. “It’s okay,” he says.

I sit back on my heels, pulling him with me so he’s sitting on my lap, completely impaled. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry. I know prepping is work, and you deserve to get fucked better than that when you’ve done what you do to get ready for me.” I wind my arms around him and nuzzle his neck. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Mm…” He swivels around as much as he can and bats his lashes at me. “And how are you going to do that?”

I stroke his hair and try to tuck it behind one of his ears. It’s not quite long enough, so it flops back into his face. “I’m going to kiss every inch of your skin,” I murmur, “and then I’m going to blow you. Then I’m going to kiss you and blow you some more. I’m not going to stop until I’m hard again. And when I am, I’m going to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

I tap him on his thigh and give him a little nudge so he knows to lift himself as I start pulling out of him. “Clench,” I tell him. “Clench hard. Don’t spill a drop.”

He does as I say, giggling and wincing slightly as he makes his way to the bed. He lies on his back and looks up at me as I kick off my pants and stretch out beside him. I part his legs and look between them. Despite his efforts, there’s a thin streak of semen leaking from him.

I scoop it up with two fingers and push it back inside him, repeating the process until I’m positive I haven’t wasted a drop.

“You know,” he teases, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me pregnant.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, Princess.”

“B-but that’s not how it works for us,” he splutters and starts laughing helplessly. “We’re both cis-men.”

“Just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean we give up, baby. It means we try harder. That’s all.”

His eyes slide shut as I lean down to kiss the smile off his face.