by Quin Perin
“Fuck, you taste so good,” Tony spoke into my chest. He peppered kisses along my collarbone, the last one lingering on the side of my throat. “I could just eat you up.”
I laughed and dug my fingers into his shoulder. “Didn’t you just?”
His chuckle was hoarse, and it landed on my mouth. “That’s not even the beginning of what I want to do to you.”
As I trailed my tongue along his lower lip, my nails bit at his skin and held him close. “And what about what I want to do to you?” I asked.
He rocked his clothed hips into me, the fabric of his pants dragging on my cock and making me whimper. “What do you want to do?” As rough as he sounded, it didn’t hide the eagerness in his voice.
I tensed my stomach, creating a gap between us that I wiggled my hand into. No time to tease. I’d been teased with thoughts of his cock for the past day. “I want to get my hands on you,” I breathed into his mouth. We weren’t quite kissing, but he didn’t pull out of position. “Wanna feel your fat cock in my hand. Do you think my fingers will even fit around it?”
“Jesus.” His voice was thick with arousal. “You’re filthy.”
“Mm.” I bit on my lower lip, eyes half-lidded. I thanked whatever perverted God looked over me that Tony had worn jogging pants. The strings untied easily, and then my hand was in. I moved along the outline of his cock through his briefs, finding the wet spot at the tip and pressing down. “All I could think about when we were dancing was this. So much more than a handful. I wanted to take it out right there. Get on my knees and taste every inch of it.”
Tony sucked in a short breath and pressed our foreheads together. His was sweaty, burning like he had a fever, and his hair danced over my cheeks.
“Dima.” He sighed. The blankets shifted, and the mattress depressed where he rested his hands on either side of my head.
His breathing stilled entirely when my fingers slipped past the material of his briefs and finally found their way around his cock. It almost seared my palm as I angled myself on the bed so I could grab it properly. The tip of my thumb and my forefinger barely grazed each other when I closed them around his shaft. Veins pulsed against my fingers; I could tell he was uncut. Oh, I wanted to play with it. Take my tongue and tease it. “Fuck, Tony.” I stroked to the base. “Your cock...it’s amazing.”
“D-Dima. Oh. Shit.” His moan caught in his throat, and his hips jerked toward me.
“Do you think you’d be able to fit it in me? It would take a lot of prep to even get the tip in.” If I kept it up, I was going to turn myself on. Already a weak pulse of blood made my cock stir again.
Precum slicked my fingers, making it easier to stroke him. His briefs strained over my knuckles, and my biceps tensed. I moved quickly, twisting toward the tip and squeezing at the base. He thrust forward to meet my fist, head dropping to rest on the bed next to me. He trembled, muscles rolling beneath my fingers. I dragged my nails across his shoulder, moving faster.
He didn’t speak anymore. All words seemed to have faded from him. He only moaned. Quiet and muffled in the blankets. “When’s the last time you came?” I paused only to tug his waistband down, freeing his cock. “I hope you saved a big load for me. Want you to glaze my fingers so I can taste you.”
The mattress bounced as he slammed his fist down into it and groaned. “Dima! Fuck!”
Tony
I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into. Dima looked innocent. Angelic. And even with this somewhat bratty vibe he had going on, I hadn’t expected this. The dirty talk. The way he oh-so-innocently asked me how long it’d been since I last came. Truth be told, I didn’t know. I hadn’t made it a priority, and really, I didn’t exactly jerk off that often.
His soft fingers turned rigid around my throbbing erection, pumping so hard and fast my eyes rolled back and my fists yanked at the sheets below him. With each stroke, stars danced behind my eyelids. I saw colors. Flickering, fucking colors.
His fingers on my chest, then my neck, his arm moving rapidly between us. God, I wanted to fuck him so badly but settled for thrusting my hips forward instead. I couldn’t speak. The connection to my brain had been cut. All there was were primal urges trying to chase the orgasm lurking in my balls. My muscles went taut when Dima’s nails rushed across my throat, marking me. It didn’t hurt, but it tingled, echoed through my body like a smack to the face.
It was perfect.
The beat of my heart drummed inside my chest, making the tension un-fucking-bearable. I was so close to giving him what he’d asked for. “Fuuuck.” The word degenerated into a moan when Dima’s next reckless stroke forced me over the edge. Heat flooded every cell of my body. Followed by pure fucking bliss. My balls tensed up against me, pulsing out jet after jet of come. I stiffened through each stripe, struggling to hold myself up on top of him. I didn’t want to crush him, but then again, I might not have a choice.
I felt weightless, as if my muscles were made of cotton and my blood was liquid sugar. Dima stroked until I managed to grab his wrist. Slick and hot. My eyes cracked open, and my gaze fell between us. Stardust danced across my vision. There was only the faint light from outside, but his hand glistened, so did his stomach.
Dima twisted his hand up my shaft again, making me hiss and swear. Too sensitive. My glutes twitched. I tightened my grasp around his wrist, urging him to stop, as he playfully glided my foreskin up and down the head, squeezing out one more pulse of come. It was thick, creamy-white, and warm. He was milking me. My God, I was shaking at the intensity of it all.
I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up anymore, so I lowered my forehead against his shoulder and breathed in. He smelled like sex. And cookies.
“That enough?” I rasped out, my voice gruff like a chain smoker.
Dima hummed—except it wasn’t quite a hum but something different—his hand trapped between both of us. The cool air settled against my sweaty skin, and I finally felt the ache on my chest. From where he’d scratched me. Over and over again.
Dima wiggled his hand out from between us, making me shift sideways. I opened my eyes and watched him bring his come-laced fingers to his lips. I swear my dick gave a lazy twitch when he licked them off, one by one. I watched in awe. He hummed as if he was licking off some kind of frosting.
To my surprise, Dima then turned his hand and lapped off the back of it. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It looked almost sweet. As if he were cleaning himself. Like a cat. Like a cat? I blinked, again with the stars. I wasn’t thinking clearly.
I rose to my elbows on either side of his head, my softening cock resting on his stomach. I felt him breathe. Inhale and exhale. It was kinda magical. Then he reached out his now cleaned hand, and I kissed his fingers. Dima grinned, scratching my beard as if I was some kind of animal before twisting his fingers through it.
“Feed me the rest?”
A shudder snaked down my spine. For real? Dima thumbed my bottom lip, then used my beard to drag me against his lips. I had no problem tasting my come on his tongue. In fact, it turned me on. Like for now, I had claimed him, fed him. This time, the kiss was languid, deeper, tongues twining. Not as demanding and urgent as before. A lingering, deep kiss. Dima broke it after a moment, nudging his nose with mine.
Okay, here we go.
I shifted on top of him and tucked my cock back into my briefs. Although he couldn’t see me, I felt more comfortable this way. I swiped two of my fingers across his warm, smooth skin, scooping up a bit of my come. I could still taste his load at the back of my throat. I hadn’t lied when I said he tasted good. It was sweet and a tiny bit sour.
Dima parted his lips, eyes closed, cheeks flushed. It was the most erotic sight I’d ever seen. This magnificent man, waiting for me to feed him. I dipped my slick fingers between his lips, and he latched on instantly, swirling his tongue across the tips.
“More.” And so I gave him more. Until almost all the mess was gone. I leaned down to kiss away any bits I hadn’t caught with my finger
s, causing him to complain. Greedy thing. I looked at him, scanned his face as his lips curved down. There was something strangely intimate about this. It’d been dirty, yes, and he was one ravenous being, but his exposed form below me, his plump, red lips...God, the way he pleaded for more, it sunk way deeper than I had expected.
My hands slid into his hair, the weight of my forearms next to him. Dima kept his eyes closed, the pout dissolving while his fingers fanned up the sides of my body. Then he made that humming sound again. But it was more distinct.
It was a purr.
Dima
I felt properly contented with Tony on top of me. He was sturdy and strong, his weight edging toward too much but settling right on comfortable. He was like those stress blankets that were warm and supposedly calmed anxiety. It was an apt comparison. I could see Tony serving that kind of purpose. He’d stopped me from being angry and helped me find my wallet. Now that he was on top of me, I was more than ready to doze off into my pillows. I wondered if he would work as well during those nights when I couldn’t sleep because my circadian rhythms were all messed up.
Leaning up, I trailed my nails on his back and then lower, giving his ass a squeeze. My cheek brushed over his beard, and I purred again. It had been a while since I’d been with someone so fuzzy. Jesus, I don’t think I’d been with a man who had more than a bit of scruff since before I lost my sight. It was out of fashion, I supposed. It felt different but in a way I liked. Extrasensory details. More things to touch and pull. To stroke.
I’d always been a visual person. I’d wanted to be a photographer after all. I loved composing pictures, taking them, and when it came to fucking, I’d gotten pleasure from watching my partners’ faces. Watching their bodies. I still remembered the way my last boyfriend’s body moved over me. He’d been obsessed with his appearance, which should have been a sign he wouldn’t stick around. Always more concerned with the way people perceived him than with me. Spending hours at the gym. Doing his hair. But damn if I didn’t love it. The way his stomach muscles clenched and rolled while he thrust. His biceps bulging…
None of that mattered to me anymore. Since I couldn’t see it, the tactile had become more important. The way people felt. Their warmth. Their strength against me. Tony had a lot to touch. The beard. Long hair. Those piercings I wanted to get my teeth on. The down of chest hair. His ass wasn’t half bad either. Could bounce a quarter off of that.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he spoke, lips on mine but not kissing me.
I smirked and arched, rubbing my stomach against his clothed cock. It made him groan. “Are you?”
He chuckled and rubbed our noses together before kissing me. Light and sweet.
“I can’t think of the last time I’ve had so much fun,” he murmured. And far from trying to flatter me, it sounded as if he spoke the truth.
“I have been told I’m a fun person.” Didn’t need to stroke his ego and let him know that he’d blown my mind with only a blow job. I hadn’t kicked him out of my bed yet, and that was compliment enough. “Like a roller coaster or one of those rides that drop you really fast and then yank you back up.”
I liked the way he laughed against me, his body shaking. A gruff, growling sound that reminded me of some sort of wild animal.
“Sounds like a fun ride.”
“Why don’t you hop on it?” I shot back.
“I’m an old man. You have to let me catch my breath, or I might have a heart attack.”
“Old man? How old are you?”
“I’m 28,” Tony replied, making me hum.
“Well, old man, you’re certainly the only one I know who wears a hair bun.” I twisted my fingers in his messy mane, giving it a tug. He wasn’t that much older than me. Two years. My ex, Eugene, had been nearly eight years my senior.
He moaned and cradled my head with his arm. I turned to kiss his biceps, burying my face into it. His lips dragged over my jaw. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Nah. I’d need too much help hiding the body.”
“You’re really impossible, Dima.” Tony chuckled.
My stomach wriggled uncomfortably at the fondness in his voice. Such familiarity in his words, and we hardly knew each other.
“Impossibly sexy and good in bed. I know.” Being glib was the one way to prevent things from getting too serious, and I didn’t quite like the way he’d said those words. Like he liked me. Cared. I should have kicked him out before he could think this was anything more. But it was too hard. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to stay and roll around in bed with me. Play with me. I’d had to work harder than usual to ensnare him in my claws, and I didn’t want to let him go yet.
“Impossibly beautiful too,” he added and placed a final kiss on my neck before pushing himself away. The mattress sunk next to me as he rolled from me. It was cold without him there, and I wanted to reach out and pull him back. I didn’t want to come across as desperate though.
Stretching my arms above my head, I twisted my wrists, digging my fingers into the pillows. Absently kneading the feathers beneath my hands. I arched my spine, drawing my shoulders together. My feet slid across the blankets, toes curling. Tony was right next to me still, and I knew he was watching me. Didn’t need to see for that. I gave him a good show as I worked out my muscles. I closed my eyes and sighed.
And then I shot my eyes open and sat up. “My food,” I exclaimed.
“Your food?” He wasn’t following.
“Yes! My food,” I said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You left it on my coffee table, didn’t you? It’s probably all cold now.”
“Oh my God.” Tony snorted. “You can reheat it.”
Rolling onto my stomach, I curled my arms up beneath my head and turned to rest my cheek against them. I faced him, fixing my eyes in his general direction. I bent my knees and lifted my legs in the air, crossing them at the ankles. I hoped I looked properly cute so I didn’t have to get out of bed. “Could you do it?” I asked sweetly. “I’ll even share with you.”
The bed shifted, and the mattress bounced up as he got off of the bed. He placed his hand between my shoulders, sliding it down my spine to the swell of my ass. I arched into the touch, liking the way his rough fingers caught on my skin.
“Whatever you like,” he murmured.
FIFTEEN
Tony
I had stayed the night.
After we’d eaten dinner, Dima snuggled up to me, his legs around mine, entangling our bodies. I couldn’t say I minded, and I couldn’t protest. His breath against my chest, warm and comforting, had lulled me to sleep. I hadn’t slept this well in ages. At least I couldn’t remember the last time I woke up smiling. Or perhaps it was Dima’s lips attached to the side of my neck, sucking and nipping, that made me feel so good.
He was right against my side, never losing contact. Fingers trickled across my bare chest, lower-lower-lower until they shamelessly groped my morning wood. It stiffened at his touch. So did I. Dima had tried to get me going again last night—which wouldn’t have been a problem at all since I’d been hard on and off the entire evening—but while I really wanted to fuck him, I was still determined to take it slow. Which resulted in him sulking. It was ridiculous, really. Here I was, trying to put the brakes on a crashing car. It was inevitable, a simple matter of time.
And Dima wouldn’t stop.
He clasped his hand around my engorged dick and began fondling my length.
“Morning,” I whispered gruffly, my vision still hazy.
“Hey there, Tiger,” Dima breathed into my ear, making me chuckle. He talked as if he was in a bad porno, and yet it worked. His fingers inched lower and cupped my balls, the sheets shifting with his movements. Jesus.
“You’re insatiable.” I grabbed a fistful of his hair to look at him. Dima protested at the loss of contact, his lips and tongue had been going at my neck like a leech trying to draw blood.
“What time is it?”
�
�Time to play.”
I tossed my head back with a laugh, the pillows so soft. I felt like I was in heaven, but I needed to control myself, or else I’d plow him into the mattress. There was nothing more arousing and exciting than making someone wait. Have them beg for it. Not like I’d engaged in that practice for a while...but with him, I wanted to.
I would make him plead.
I angled his head so my lips were against his ear and bit down playfully. Dima shuddered against me, his fingers stilling around my cock. “I…” I breathed, rolling my hips up into his touch.
“Yes?” Dima’s voice cracked slightly as if he tried damn hard not to let me get to him, but he failed.
“...need a cigarette,” I finished and released his hair, pulling back with a grin. Dima snarled, really snarled, as I slid away from him. He reached out, nails scratching across my forearms before I exited the bed.
I would make him wait.
I laughed and turned to find my sweatpants. I had discarded them somewhere before going to sleep.
“Come back here,” Dima grumbled, propped up on the bed. I scurried around the bedroom and finally found my pants at the other end of the room. The sun was already up, casting pink-orange rays of light across the floor. I pulled up my pants and then noticed a mirror in the corner of the room. It was partially covered with a bedsheet, the reflecting surface twinkling in the sunlight. I glanced back at Dima, who still scowled into space.
“You’re no fun.” He sighed as I lifted the fabric from the mirror. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the scratch marks he’d left across my chest and stomach. Oh, fuck. My cock flexed, and a wave of heat flooded my veins. I had never seen myself like this before. My tan skin adorned with red stripes, up to my neck. Holy hell.
I heard Dima move off the bed, heading out of the room, obviously frustrated. His erection tented in his black briefs; it looked delicious. I wanted to stop him right there and take care of it, kneel and suck him off, but now I was too occupied with how he’d marked up my body. If anyone saw me, they would think I’d gotten attacked by some creature. I chuckled at that, letting the fabric fall from my fingers. That wasn’t too far from the truth, was it?