Destination, Wedding!

Home > Other > Destination, Wedding! > Page 46
Destination, Wedding! Page 46

by Xavier Mayne


  “Like hell you will,” Donnelly said with a determination as steely as the cock he now gripped in his hand. He drizzled a generous amount of clear gel onto the head of Brandt’s cock, a little surprised not to hear it sizzle. He flicked a slick thumb over the tip, knowing exactly how Brandt would react.

  “God, I’ve missed your touch,” Brandt groaned, arching his back in sudden pleasure.

  “And I have missed this guy,” Donnelly said, beaming down at the extensive hard-on he held in his hand. He worked the slick gel up and down, covering the entire shaft. It dripped down onto Brandt’s balls.

  “A hand job isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Brandt wheedled impatiently. “Though given my level of deprivation, I’ll gladly accept one.”

  “I’m not going to let you off that easy,” Donnelly said with a smirk, quite pleased with his wit. Satisfied with the slipperiness of Brandt’s cock, he rose up onto his knees, arched his back, and reached around to grip Brandt’s cock behind him. He held it straight and true as he lowered himself down toward it.

  “Ahhhh, fuck!” groaned Brandt as his cock touched Donnelly’s ass. “You’re so tight.”

  “It’s been a lonely week,” Donnelly replied, backing up against Brandt’s hardness.

  “And you didn’t have even a moment alone to see to your own needs?”

  A crooked smile emerged on Donnelly’s face. “I may have indulged once or twice,” he said slyly. “The shower in the suite was amazing—great water pressure and so many ways to direct the deluge.” He sighed at the memory. “But even then I saved my ass for you.”

  It was Brandt’s turn to give a sly smile. “I’m afraid I’m not as pure as you are when it comes to that.”

  Donnelly’s eyes lit up with the scandal of what he’d just heard. “But you never do butt stuff when you jerk off.”

  “I do now, I guess,” he said with a sexy shrug. “Call it just another step in my progress as a sexual being.”

  “Fucking hot is what I call it. Good for you. Now here’s something special to reward your flexibility.” He took a breath and pushed down, hard. Brandt’s wide battering ram of a cock breached the stubborn ring of muscle and surged inside. “Oof,” Donnelly grunted. “I guess I did tighten up a little during the week. It feels like the first time.”

  “Every time feels like the first time,” Brandt said as he raised his hips to continue his burrowing progress. He had a fleeting thought of asking if Donnelly was okay with him thrusting in, but deep down he knew—he knew exactly what Donnelly wanted, and it was precisely the same thing he did: for the two of them to be joined as completely as two people can be.

  Brandt reached up and grabbed Donnelly’s hips. As he thrust upward with his powerful buttocks he pulled down with his muscular arms, and between the two forces, Donnelly was impaled, possessed, fulfilled.

  “Fuck,” Donnelly said, stretching the single syllable until it trailed off in a moan. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he gave himself to the monstrous invasion, feeling Brandt assail all of the sensitive places in his ass at once.

  Finally their bodies met, Brandt’s groin pressed into Donnelly’s obscenely spread buttocks.

  “I’m home,” Brandt sighed, looking up at Donnelly with an awestruck wonder. “This is my place in the world—mine alone.”

  “Always,” Donnelly whispered, eyes closed for a moment as he got reacquainted with the feeling of being taken so completely. Then the time for gentle reacquaintance was over. He opened his eyes and stared into Brandt’s—he wanted to watch the change come over him. Slowly at first, then with increasing purpose, he lifted his hips, feeling the thick pillar of flesh pull at him as it retreated.

  Brandt’s eyes widened, then lost focus for a moment as Donnelly ascended to near the apex of his eight-inch transit. Just as Donnelly felt the flare of the tip reach the tight grip of his ass, he stopped. Brandt’s eyebrows peaked, and he took in a soft breath, as if he were about to lose what he wanted most in the world. Donnelly hovered there, teasing, hesitating, until finally he worried that Brandt had stopped breathing altogether. He lowered himself smoothly, feeling the fullness overtake him again.

  Brandt looked up at him with a mischievous smile. “The way you stopped had me worried. Thought you were out of practice and I was a little too much for you.”

  “You are too much,” Donnelly groaned as he reached bottom. “I swear I can feel it pushing the air out of my lungs.” Then he smiled. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “I’ll try to be gentle,” Brandt said with a warm chuckle.

  “Now, let’s not get crazy. Gentle isn’t exactly what I need right now.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear,” Brandt growled as he reached out and took hold of Donnelly’s hips again, pulling him down onto the root of his cock. He twisted his hips side to side in a vigorous gyration that would make any pole dancer proud.

  Donnelly experienced this motion as a forceful grinding right on his prostate, and it took his breath away. He brought his hands down and planted them on Brandt’s meaty pectorals, his fingertips digging into the taut flesh, indenting the muscle.

  This was exactly what Brandt had hoped to see, had craved for all the time they’d been apart. This moment, when their union became almost too much even for his strapping fiancé to handle, was intoxicating. He glanced down at Donnelly’s cock, bobbing and jutting before him, and saw a strand of crystal fluid drip in slow motion from its tip. What he felt on the inside, his cockhead ramming Donnelly’s prostate, he now had visual confirmation of. He looked up and watched Donnelly’s head tip back, his eyes closed.

  Unable to resist the urge any longer, Brandt bucked his hips forward, clenching his ass tightly to throw every ounce of his strength into Donnelly. Powerful fingers raked his chest, letting him know without question that he was hitting all the right places deep inside the man who sat astride him.

  The rumble began deep in Donnelly’s chest, a rumble summoned by the friction of Brandt’s probing cock as it stretched his ass. As much as he wanted this to last, he wanted even more to push Brandt headlong into the orgasm he’d been dreaming of the entire time they’d been apart. He took a deep breath and pulled hard, clenching all of the muscles he had control over—the involuntary ones were already spasming to life under the onslaught.

  “Oh,” Brandt cried out softly, eyes wide. “You have to teach me how to do that.”

  “And give away all my secrets? Not a chance, mister.” Donnelly repeated the motion, knowing that Brandt would not last long.

  Brandt groaned and thrashed, but he continued to thrust determinedly. “It won’t be that easy,” he growled. “I can go all night.”

  “I’m sure you can,” replied Donnelly lightly. “It’s one of the qualities I like most about you. But though you may go all night, you’re going to come”—clench—“right”—clench—“now.”

  “Oh fuck,” Brandt roared, and his pelvis hammered into Donnelly in a blur of ecstatic thrusting. He may have been at Donnelly’s mercy, but he was going to lean into it. Donnelly would know how much he had missed him by his unhinged frenzy. But he also knew that his fiancé was intensely visual, so he decided to give him a special treat.

  Brandt released his hold on Donnelly’s thighs, raised his hands up, and then joined them behind his head. He continued thrusting, but did so as if he were in the gym doing ab crunches of a particularly enjoyable kind. Every contraction brought his head and his pelvis up off the mattress.

  Donnelly looked down and saw the deep cuts between Brandt’s abs throbbing into and out of relief, the veins standing out from his bulging biceps, utter determination glowering on his brow. This man—the most man Donnelly had ever known—was all his, and would never share this most intimate experience with anyone else, male or female. He took it all in, this sculptural specimen laid out beneath him, from his sweat-spiked hair to the deep V of his pelvic muscles. And whether it was from the unparalleled vista before him or the unrivaled cock wi
thin him, he knew that he would last no longer than Brandt would.

  He pitched himself forward so that Brandt’s manic crunches caused his cock to rub against that divinely muscled torso. It was just the friction he needed.

  “I love you, I love you,” he chanted, overwhelmed with the sensations of their reunion.

  “Fuck, Gabriel,” Brandt huffed, “I love you so—” What followed was an incoherent growling, a soundtrack from a wilderness documentary showing what happens when two grizzlies claim the same stretch of salmon-rich river. He jackhammered into Donnelly, feeling the inevitability build deep inside his loins. The crescendo of their lovemaking echoed around the room and probably across the entire floor of the hotel. They held each other tight as they were both consumed and reborn through their passion.

  After a week apart, they came together.

  Brandt filled Donnelly, and Donnelly soaked Brandt, and they were very, very happy together.

  Together.

  A little later, Geneva

  “WHERE DO you suppose Kerry and Sandler got to?” Brandt asked as he delicately plucked grapes off the stem. The remains of their room-service tray of delicacies lay between them, demolished by their passion-fueled hunger.

  “I think they’re afraid we’re going to fuck each other right through the wall or something.”

  Brandt’s eyebrow shot up. “Hmmm….”

  “We are not going to try fucking against the wall—not here. I had to replace the drywall the last time you got that gleam in your eye—think of the damage you could do to a historic building like this.”

  “These walls must be a foot thick,” Brandt replied. “You don’t really think I could do them any harm just with my little ol’ penis, do you?”

  “To badly paraphrase Voltaire,” Donnelly said as he stood and picked up the tray from the bed, “it ain’t little, it ain’t old, and it’s only a penis in the same way that the Titanic was a dinghy.”

  “If my history prof had delivered a lecture on the Holy Roman Empire looking like you do now, I might have gotten that allusion,” Brandt replied, popping the last grape into his mouth with a satisfied grin.

  “Hmmm. A naked history professor,” Donnelly said, placing the tray on the dresser and returning to the bed. “I don’t think I’d have wanted to see any of my professors naked.” He sat next to Brandt. “You, though, should remain naked at all times.”

  “I think the holster would chafe,” Brandt retorted. He ran his fingertips along Donnelly’s arm. “Now that you’ve had a light snack, can we get back to what we were doing?”

  Donnelly grinned. “What we were doing was racing the room-service waiter to see if you could come before he did. Congratulations on that, by the way. You almost made it.”

  “Luckily, room service always rings twice.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t have to answer the door while recovering from your vigorous efforts. I’m glad those robes are so thick. I hope he couldn’t see my legs shaking.”

  Brandt frowned sympathetically. “I wasn’t that hard on you, was I?”

  “You’re just lucky I like you hard. In fact,” he said, snaking a hand down Brandt’s recumbent body, “I can’t help but notice that you are once again ready to rumble.”

  “I could be persuaded to—”

  “That’s horseshit and you know it,” Donnelly scolded with a laugh. “Persuasion has nothing to do with it.” He kissed Brandt on the nose. “Now, I want you standing right here.” He tugged on Brandt and directed him to the side of the bed.

  “Oh, this is getting interesting.” Brandt did as he was told. When Donnelly and sex were involved, it was always rewarding to do as he was told.

  Donnelly placed him standing next to the bed, while he sat on it facing him. “Yes,” he said, then leaned forward and sucked Brandt’s entire erection into his mouth.

  “Oof,” Brandt groaned, trying to keep his knees from buckling. “I don’t know how you do that.”

  Donnelly pulled back, feeling Brandt slide along his tonsils. “It’s a simple matter of deciding that one wants cock more than one wants oxygen,” he lectured, a crooked grin on his face. “It’s a trade-off I’m happy to make.”

  “You are demented, and I am the luckiest man in the world.” Brandt leaned down and kissed Donnelly. He tasted of brie and cock.

  Donnelly winked at him and returned to his devil’s bargain of trading air for dick, and soon had Brandt moaning.

  “Perfect,” Donnelly proclaimed as he withdrew Brandt’s cock from his throat. It jutted, slick and throbbing. Donnelly stood, turned, and bent himself over the bed. Reaching behind him, he guided Brandt’s cock back into his ecstatically tender ass. He moaned as he felt the massive thing slide into him once again.

  Brandt, looking down at where their bodies joined, smiled to himself. Donnelly was a man capable of taking down gang members at a dead run, strong enough to lift people out of the burning wreckage of their cars. And yet here he was, offering himself up to the battering ram Brandt was proud to wield. Crouched on all fours, he backed onto Brandt until they touched, and then he surged forward to begin the cycle again. Between Donnelly’s obscenely splayed buttocks, Brandt could see the tight ring of muscle clinging jealously to his cock, as if reluctant to let it slip out even an inch.

  He knew what Donnelly wanted, and he was pleased to give it to him. Rather than thrusting, he simply stood strong and let Donnelly fuck himself on Brandt’s hard cock. Giving up this measure of control was a thrill for Brandt, who so rarely let go of any bit of command in his daily life. Plus, the end result would be just as devastatingly pleasurable; this would end with Brandt blasting yet another load—his third tonight—into his partner. He was happy to get there any way that Donnelly wanted to go.

  Donnelly rocked back and forth on the bed, controlling the pace and angle with the sole purpose of pushing his prostate unto madness. And it was working. He was breathing so hard he almost didn’t hear the cuckoo clock strike midnight. He had thought it inexcusably kitschy when they first entered the room—that a cuckoo clock would be standard-issue furnishing for a Swiss hotel seemed ridiculous—but now he was grateful for the twittering, bonging cacophony from the other room. Once the clock ceased its clamor, it was the next day.

  His day.

  He lunged forward, startling Brandt. With an audible pop, they were separated.

  “What the—” Brandt howled.

  “It’s midnight,” Donnelly interrupted, getting up off the bed. “Remember our deal.”

  “Oh shit. Really? Now?” Brandt moaned.

  “Really. Now. We just need to make one small adjustment, and all is well,” Donnelly said brightly as he drew up next to Brandt and kissed him softly.

  “Well, if you put it that way,” Brandt conceded.

  “I am about to put it that way,” Donnelly replied, running his hand down to Brandt’s ass. Without further warning, he placed a firm hand on Brandt’s neck and gave a shove, sending him sprawling across the bed.

  “Dude, fuck!” cried Brandt as he landed heavily on the bed, but some part of him was thrilled by Donnelly’s brutish hunger.

  “I intend to. Up on all fours,” he ordered.

  Brandt hesitated. Not because he didn’t want Donnelly to fuck him—he did, he did without doubt—but to see how far he was willing to push to get what he wanted. Brandt hoped he would push hard.

  “Now,” Donnelly said, low and quiet.

  That was what he said, Brandt thought, that night on the live cam session. The same word, the same commanding tone. Brandt felt a chill flash through him, and suddenly he was back in that first moment when their friendship had turned into something more—something terrifying and thrilling and uncertain and promising. He felt himself back on that bed in the sex-cam house, under Donnelly’s hungry glare on the video screen. Then he had been mortified; now, he was as turned on as he had ever been in his life. He arched his back, pushing his ass up slightly, just enough to give Donnelly a teasing glimpse. His butt
ocks parted, opening him to Donnelly but just out of reach.

  Donnelly tossed the lube bottle onto the bed, between Brandt’s wide-spread legs. “You have thirty seconds to get ready. Then your ass is mine.”

  This—this was new.

  Brandt reached between his legs and found the lube bottle. He flipped the cap, and tried to figure out how to squirt some onto his fingers from this fucked-up angle.

  “Twenty seconds,” Donnelly said quietly, but there was iron under his words.

  Brandt gave up trying to be tidy with the lube. He grabbed the bottle, reached around his back, and positioned the nozzle at the top of his ass, just where the globes of muscle split. He squeezed hard, and a small river of lube oozed down the crack toward his anus. He brought his other hand up between his legs, and with it he rubbed the lube around his tightly clenched hole.

  “Ten seconds. You’d better get some up in there or this may be… strenuous for you.” A growling, guttural chuckle signaled Donnelly’s ineluctable intention.

  With a grunt, Brandt dug his middle finger into his ass. He tossed the now-empty bottle of lube to the side and used both hands to poke into his ass, jamming as much of the lube in as he could. He was making progress, but he needed more time. He knew how to get it.

  Reaching both hands behind him, he dug both index fingers into his ass at the same time, and pulled them apart. He felt the cool air of the hotel room hit his now obscenely exposed inner passage.

  “Fuck,” Donnelly groaned, his eyes trained on what Brandt had never shown him before. He lost count entirely.

  Brandt worked his fingers in and out, stretching his muscle and spreading more lube. He began to rock back and forth, and as he worked his fingers in and out, he felt himself begin to loosen—maybe enough to accommodate Donnelly, maybe not. The uncertainty sent a thrill through his pounding chest. He would soon find out. He was suddenly grateful for his explorations that lazy morning in a Paris hotel room; he had been like a bride preparing for the practicalities of her wedding day. The very idea nearly brought a laugh to his throat before he swallowed it back—he wouldn’t break Donnelly’s horned-up concentration for anything. With a grunt, he worked a third finger in.

 

‹ Prev