by JD Ruskin
“Bed. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Donnelly replied and smartly saluted. Then he poked Brandt in the ribs with a lightning-fast stroke; Brandt, who was fatally ticklish there, spasmed to the side and nearly fell over. Donnelly bolted from the room and tore down the hall.
Brandt recovered and gave chase. He stomped heavily into the bedroom, where he found—no Donnelly. He scanned the room, looking for signs of his quarry; he was about to pull open the closet door when Donnelly burst out of it, tackling him. They fell back on the bed, wrestling with the boundless energy of puppies, exulting in their physicality.
Brandt ultimately got the upper hand and pressed Donnelly down into the mattress, pinning his arms and legs. He pressed his mouth to Donnelly’s ear, and whispered huskily.
“I own you.”
The steel left Donnelly’s muscles; his entire body relaxed as he yielded to the hot, growling voice in his ear.
“Yes,” he whispered into Brandt’s ear and then closed his eyes.
Brandt kissed Donnelly’s ear, then along his jawline, and finally his lips. The first kiss was delicate and shivery, their lips barely touching. Donnelly gasped but didn’t move; Brandt hovered, then touched again and again, each time the force increasing, and each time Donnelly could taste his fire more strongly.
As they kissed, Brandt’s hands were snaking along Donnelly’s torso, unbuttoning his shirt. He slid his hands under the fabric and brushed his fingertips along the firm, smooth skin he found there. Instantly Donnelly’s nipples were erect, goose bumps spreading from them across his chest. The wicked grin again appeared on Brandt’s face, and he kissed his way down Donnelly’s throat to investigate these new developments.
Donnelly was unprepared for the vigor with which Brandt seized his right nipple between his teeth, for the power of the suction he applied. He felt the shirt slide off his arms as he writhed, gripping the sheets in his fists as he twisted under the assault.
Brandt was just getting started.
He released his grip on Donnelly’s nipples and kissed his way down the flat, hairless abs, down to where the khaki shorts began. He slowly and deliberately unbuttoned them and drew the zipper down with his teeth. Donnelly didn’t breathe—he was afraid he might come right now if he moved a millimeter. He had never been this hard, this achingly hard.
Brandt tugged the shorts down and off, leaving only a thin, soft layer of stylish underwear between him and his goal. He knelt between Donnelly’s legs and folded himself into a posture of worship before his new god. He leaned forward and pressed his face suddenly, roughly, against the bright blue fabric. Donnelly jumped and let out a cry, a plea. Brandt kissed and nuzzled the hard contents of the briefs until the fabric was damp. Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband and eased them slowly, smoothly down. Donnelly’s cock sprang free, a glistening thread of precum stretching from its head to the fabric as it was pulled away. Brandt tossed the briefs aside, and Donnelly was fully naked in front of him. In their previous clenching, they had always been swept away with lust before Brandt had a chance to absorb this sight. Now he was determined to take his time.
Donnelly lay before him, his head turned to the side, his eyes closed. His outstretched arms were sculptural, the coiled strength of each muscle smoothly articulated under that flawless skin. Brandt’s eyes swept down the torso, with its ridges of rib on the sides and hills and valleys of abdominals down the middle. The nipples, he noted, were still alert, pointing to the ceiling. Brandt ran his hands down the legs that extended on either side of him, feeling their solidity—he knew where that came from, having run alongside Donnelly every mile he had racked up building them. Impishly, he reached behind him and ran a finger up the sole of each foot—Donnelly convulsed and cried out a laugh, but he didn’t move. His surrender was not so fragile that this playfulness would break it.
Brandt ran his hands back up the powerful legs, and they nearly met when they surrounded Donnelly’s fully erect cock and achingly full balls. Brandt paused here, wanting to make Donnelly hunger for his touch. His wait would not be long.
“Oh, fuck,” Donnelly breathed, “Please….”
“Please what?” Brandt asked, the evil grin now broader than ever.
Donnelly turned to him and opened his eyes.
“Anything. Do anything you want,” he begged, a whimpering edge in his voice. “You own me,” he sighed, and then closed his eyes again.
In answer, Brandt leaned forward until his nose almost touched Donnelly’s cock. He breathed in the scent of the body wash they had used in the shower earlier, mixed now with a smell that was pure Donnelly—sweet, woody, and fucking intoxicating. Brandt knew it was a fragrance that was his alone, and only he would ever smell it now.
Brandt’s breath on Donnelly’s cock was driving him insane. He thrust his hips in an effort to make contact, but Brandt mirrored his motions and prolonged the wait. Then, finally, when Donnelly was sure he was about to come just from fucking the air near Brandt, he made contact.
Brandt kissed him as gently as he had kissed his mouth moments ago. His lips brushed the spot where the flare of Donnelly’s cock rose nearest to the tip, just below the opening. A sweep of the lips, a kiss, a lick, and then the cycle repeated itself. Donnelly had never felt this, ever, with anyone—had never dreamed that the universe contained such a wonder.
Brandt kissed his way down the broad shaft, each softly suctioning contact causing Donnelly to arch and moan anew. Then Brandt, reaching the base, licked his way back up to the tip, which he kissed gently at first, then more vigorously. His tongue played at the opening, and Donnelly was on fire. Then he kissed back down the length and licked back to the tip. Donnelly was certain he would not survive another round.
This time, though, as Brandt reached the base, he kept going. He kissed gently the delicate folds of skin in which were suspended Donnelly’s churning testes. This was the softest skin Brandt had ever felt; it almost seemed to disappear when he kissed it. He continued his journey down and finally planted a kiss on each of Donnelly’s large, round balls. Then he ran his tongue across both of them and down underneath them, tasting that salty spot where the sac connected to Donnelly’s body, and then back up, feeling the skin slide over the surface of those slick orbs.
Brandt opened his mouth and engulfed the slightly larger, lower ball on the right side. As he closed his lips around it he could feel Donnelly twitch and shudder, could hear his breath grow shallow. Clearly, he was not accustomed to having his balls attended to, and Brandt aimed to change that. He sucked it in, pressed gently all around it, and then let it slip halfway back out; before it fully emerged, though, he sucked it back in.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Donnelly cried out, his back arching, his hands once again grasping at the sheets.
Delighted at the effect he was having, Brandt slipped the ball in and out of his mouth several times, and then pounced on the other one. He could feel the surprise snap through the muscles in Donnelly’s legs as they spasmed around him. This one, his mouth confirmed, was indeed slightly smaller than the other; he slurped noisily around it, causing Donnelly to convulse again, babbling nonstop.
Brandt wanted to squeeze both of the balls into his mouth at once, but as Donnelly had been a good sport so far, he didn’t want to push too hard—they were large enough that they might get squished if he gobbled them both up together. He let the left one slip out from between his lips, and then he covered them both with kisses again. He licked his way up to the base of Donnelly’s cock and then along its length to the tip. Taking a deep breath, he stuffed about half of the seven-inch slab into his mouth in one swoop.
Donnelly screamed. It was as if he had been saving up for years to make this one war-whoop of a sex yell—and before it was over, the orgasm was clenching his entire body. He had never come this quickly before, but he had never felt this insanely turned on before. Brandt had completed only three strokes before Donnelly erupted.
The torrent of cum shocked Brandt, who had fig
ured that since they already had sex today, the volume would be smaller this time. It was, if anything, even more than Donnelly had produced this morning. At the moment of the first ejaculation, Donnelly thrust upward, forcing his cock to the very opening of Brandt’s throat; the semen flew directly down it, causing Brandt to gag and sputter. This sudden constriction served to envelop Donnelly’s penis more completely, and his second spurt was even more forceful than the first. Brandt pulled back, swallowing hard, and managed to avoid choking. Crisis averted, he returned to sucking and stroking, urging every last bit out of his buddy’s cock. He sucked at the tip; he squeezed all along its length, forcing it to disgorge every drop. As Donnelly’s erection subsided and his breathing returned to normal, Brandt continued to kiss and suckle, bathing every inch of his partner’s crotch, cleaning up every drop of cum.
“Come here,” Donnelly finally croaked.
Brandt obediently slid up Donnelly’s sweat-slicked torso, still kissing random points (and not so random ones, like his nipples) along the way. Finally, again, they were face to face.
“Oh my fucking God,” breathed Donnelly, shaking his head slightly and looking deeply into Brandt’s eyes. “That was the best ever. Ever. Thank you.”
Brandt chuckled. “No, thank you. I needed to do that, and you were a real trooper.”
“My pleasure to oblige, sir. Now, I need your help with something.”
“What’s that?” Brandt asked.
“I need you to take off your clothes and lie here like I did.”
“And what are you going to be doing while I’m doing that?”
“You,” Donnelly replied, his sly grin rivaling Brandt’s.
If one were to imagine how quickly a firefighter can strip off street clothes so as to get into protective gear, and then further imagine that said street clothes were actually on fire at the time, one would have an approximate idea of the blur that Brandt became as he stripped off every stitch of his clothes. The boxer briefs had not yet hit the floor when he threw himself down on the bed.
Donnelly, without saying a word, climbed atop Brandt as he lay there. He straddled him as if he were mounting a stallion of great strength and questionable impulse control. Donnelly was acutely aware that he was now on intimate terms with a person as strong as, and probably stronger than, he was. This shouldn’t have made a difference, as he was never the type to force himself on a woman (in fact, the women he had dated often found him frustratingly demure in bed). But now Donnelly, even when on top and in command, knew that he was evenly matched and that control of the situation could slip from him at any moment. The thought made his heart beat faster.
His slackening cock now flopped down over his balls, touching Brandt’s stomach. It left a trail of glistening fluid, sticky and hot. Donnelly leaned forward, placing one hand on the bed next to Brandt’s head and wrapping the other around the back of his neck, cradling his head as if it were the most valuable object in the world, a treasure beyond any other. His kiss was not Brandt’s fluttering whisper of contact, nor his full-on assault; rather, his was an insistent, slithering invasion, a conspiracy of tongue and lip that brooked no resistance. His talented tongue had been an item of talk among the women of the force over the last several years, and he was justly proud of the orgasms it had induced. But only now, only here, had it found its true calling. It had come home.
Brandt was amazed that Donnelly’s tongue could still surprise him. They had kissed a fair bit over the last couple of days, but there was something new each time; he had no idea how Donnelly was able to make his tongue move that way. Now, as before, he simply surrendered to it, allowed himself to be swept away by it. Beyond thinking lay ecstasy, and he was eager to get there.
Donnelly reached down, found Brandt’s nipples, and pinched them gingerly between his fingers. Gingerly at first, that is. The pressure increased a little, and then a little more, and then Brandt’s back was arching off the bed and he was groaning. Donnelly positioned himself just above the left nipple and opened his mouth. A string of saliva drizzled down, landing exactly on target, and his fingers, lubed now, began to slip and twist as well as pinch. Brandt cried out, and cried out again when Donnelly repeated the maneuver on the other side. Suddenly Donnelly could feel the hard poke of Brandt’s steely hardness in his belly, and knew it was time to move on.
He, like Brandt, took a deep breath in wonder at the sight of his best friend transformed—no more a buddy, now a lover, an object of desire, a thing of beauty. Donnelly wondered when it had been that he realized his partner was beautiful; was it, as he had claimed, a little more than a week ago? Now, looking down at the symphony of muscle and soft skin, the memory of finding him attractive seemed older, seemed to have taken root long ago in an untended part of his mental landscape. Being able to act on it, now, that was new.
“Turn over,” Donnelly murmured, his voice taking on a commanding, gravelly tenor that Brandt only heard once before—during their online session. He could only obey. Donnelly raised himself slightly, breaking the contact between them, and then Brandt turned in place, settling himself down on top of his achingly hard cock. Donnelly slid down and wriggled his way between the legs that had been clasped tightly together.
As Brandt’s legs came apart, as his most private place was nearly exposed, a terrified shiver crackled through his body. He was not sure he was ready for this—he would be vulnerable to Donnelly in ways that he had never been before, exposed to an extent he had never imagined.
Donnelly planted a kiss on each buttock, and Brandt felt a calm warmth spread through him. This would be okay. He relaxed his ass, opening himself to his partner.
It was Donnelly’s turn to hesitate. What he was about to do, he had never imagined doing. Certainly not to another man. But now it was the natural next step to take, and Brandt’s lightly furred ass, indented on both sides with a sweep of muscle, was beckoning to him. He did not resist.
He ran his fingers over the mounds of muscle, watching goose bumps spread at his command. When his fingers danced into the space between, where the hair was darker, Brandt moaned and jostled a bit. Donnelly couldn’t see what was going on beneath, where Brandt’s cock was leaking freely, but Brandt could feel it, and he knew it had everything to do with what Donnelly was doing now.
If Brandt was expecting a delicate kiss in his forbidden zone, he was dramatically mistaken. At that moment, Donnelly slid his arms between Brandt’s legs and underneath his hips; his hands hooked around and touched the tops of Brandt’s buttocks. This had the effect of lifting Brandt’s pelvis off the bed—only his chest and his knees touched the mattress. And his ass was open to an extent that he had not thought possible.
Donnelly pulled Brandt toward him, brought that beautiful ass to his mouth, and he lunged into it with a hunger surpassing anything he’d ever experienced. Brandt, shocked by the invasion, pushed forward, but Donnelly had the leverage—his arms were iron and unyielding, and Brandt’s ass was his.
“Ohhhh, fuck,” whispered Brandt into mattress.
Donnelly drove his tongue like a knife into Brandt’s ass. He wanted to penetrate it, to taste it, to claim it as his own. He pushed, wanting to thrust more of himself into Brandt, and his tongue flailed about the hot, secret insides. He pulled Brandt back even further, lifting his legs off the bed entirely, and drove his face into the divide between his partner’s futilely clenching cheeks. Brandt could no more close himself to Donnelly’s insistently wriggling tongue than he could tap dance in this position, but there was something elementally masculine in him that objected to the entire proposition. The objection was overruled by the aching space inside him that needed Donnelly to fill it.
Brandt was just getting used to that alien presence inside him when it was suddenly withdrawn. He was instantly incomplete, and he needed it back in him. Instead, though, what he felt was Donnelly’s mouth closing on his opening, his lips pressing against the folds of muscle that surrounded it. It was the most intimate kiss he had ever experien
ced, penetrating and softly suctioning. A deep growling rumbled through Donnelly, sending an insistent vibration directly into Brandt’s core. Wet slurping sounds filled the room as Donnelly ravaged Brandt’s hole, his tongue thrusting tirelessly, stretching the ring of muscle through which no one had ever before ventured.
Finally, Donnelly relaxed his hold on Brandt’s hips, and his knees touched the bed again. He didn’t break the contact between his mouth and Brandt’s ass; he did, however, reach one hand down to Brandt’s dripping cock. He rubbed his fingers over the head, collecting the precum that was oozing forth, and he spread the slick fluid all along the solid shaft.
Brandt could be forgiven for thinking that Donnelly must have grown up on a dairy farm—the milking grip on his cock was that sure, that demanding. Donnelly, of course, had grown up in the suburbs, but he did have definite ideas about proper hand-job technique. His grip was tight, his motions sure, his pace aggressive. Brandt would not last long.
Donnelly felt the orgasm start not in Brandt’s cock, but in his ass. The delightfully soft folds of Brandt’s asshole spasmed, then clenched. He was not at all sure that he would be getting his tongue back.
Brandt’s back arched, then rounded, then arched again as if he were trying to fuck Donnelly’s fist. Then he froze, and the only sound in the room was the well-lubed crackling progress of the fist flying maniacally along Brandt’s shaft. Then the screaming began.
Brandt’s shouts started low and grew to a high, urgent pitch as he pressed back against Donnelly’s face—someone who lacked Donnelly’s strength might have been thrown from the bed. But Donnelly leaned into it and gripped Brandt’s cock even harder, and he held on. The cum shooting out of Brandt hit the bed with a wet, heavy splatter, and Donnelly didn’t miss a stroke. His tongue still occupied Brandt’s ass, his lips still sucked at his sphincter, his fist still throttled his cock.
It wasn’t until Brandt collapsed forward onto the bed that Donnelly released his hold. Wiping the spit from his cheeks, he looked down upon the sweaty, panting form of his lover, and he was sure. Of them, of himself. He let himself fall forward onto Brandt, covering his body with his own.