by Sean Michael
“Yes.” Like it was the most logical thing in the world. Maybe for Toby it was.
Damon headed for the back, his cock rubbing against his zipper and Toby’s ass.
The original statue was still perfect—a man needing and desperate, begging for attention. Damon loved it. Then he saw the other one. It was… It was him, this wild-eyed demon that screamed sex.
Groaning, he let Toby down. “You don’t need me to sit for you at all.” Toby had already done him.
“I do. I need more.”
“This is stunning, baby. I want the pair of them.” He couldn’t imagine anyone else ever having them.
“They’re yours.” The simple words were sure, happy.
“Thank you.”
Toby kissed him. He deepened the kiss, pulling Toby close again. God, what kind of statues could Toby do with him posing if this was the result when Toby simply worked from memory and his imagination?
“You’re an amazing artist, baby.” Truly.
His boy blushed, flushing with pleasure.
“Now, do you want to suck me or would you rather I pose with a hard-on?” Damon asked. He had a powerful need.
“I can’t have both?”
Damon had to grin. “Absolutely.” He’d love nothing more than to have his wild-haired, naked, clay-covered boy on his knees in front of him. He eased Toby to the floor, then encouraged him to his knees.
“You look so tall from down here,” Toby told him.
Damon removed the bandana holding Toby’s hair back and it sprang out. “And you look even sexier on your knees in front of me.”
He could see the way Toby’s body responded to his words, how the lean abs tensed, muscles rippling.
“Take it out, baby. Suck it. Suck me.”
“Yes, Sir.” Those words still sounded so tentative, so tender. And he loved them.
Humming, he stroked Toby’s head. “That makes me so happy to hear.” It was even better, knowing that it made Toby nervous. That his lover was doing it anyway was hot as hell.
His whole body was on fire, eager and waiting for Toby to follow through. Toby unzipped his jeans, careful to protect his flesh from the zipper. He groaned as his cock pushed out, like it was trying to leap right into Toby’s mouth.
Toby opened right up like he was just as eager for his erection, like Damon was the tastiest treat ever.
“Sexy boy.” Damon wrapped his hands in Toby’s hair and tugged a little, just to give Toby a little sting.
His sweet boy’s eyes rolled right up into his head, and Toby took his cock in, sucking nice and hard right from the beginning. Damon’s eyes wanted to close, but he didn’t let them because he needed to see. He needed to watch as Toby sucked him off. The heat in the slide of Toby’s lips was magnified by the sight of it happening.
Damon moaned, letting Toby know how much he was enjoying the blow job. The heavy mane of hair was wild, curling around Toby’s shoulders, framing his vision.
“Beautiful,” Damon managed to murmur.
“Mmm…” Toby hummed around his cock, tongue and lips vibrating around his flesh.
This time he only grunted, the pleasure growing too big to allow him actual words.
Toby took him in, deeper and deeper, then deeper still. He tangled his fingers tighter into Toby’s hair and the strands curled around his fingers, holding onto him.
Damon began thrusting, trying to keep it slow and easy. He wanted this to last forever, for hours, the perfect heat just going on and on. He sawed his hips, watching his cock push in and out of Toby’s mouth. Fuck. His shaft was slick, shining, as it appeared and disappeared into his boy’s lips.
“Toby.” He thrust harder, faster, feeling his balls pull up.
“Mmm-hmm.” Look at Toby smile.
It was that smile, the look in Toby’s eyes that pushed Damon over the edge and, with a cry, he came. Toby swallowed, fingers rolling his balls. Another shudder went through him, a few more drops of spunk dripping onto Toby’s tongue. Damn, his boy was good at this. Enthusiasm definitely counted.
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About the Author
Often referred to as ‘Space Cowboy’ and ‘Gangsta of Love’ while still striving for the moniker of ‘Maurice’, Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the kama sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to Chicago.
A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? He’ll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.
Email: [email protected]
Sean loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
Also by Sean Michael
Bruised
The Biker’s Pup
True as an Arrow
Chess: Opening Moves
Chess: Middle Game
Chess: En Prise
Chess: Helpmate
Chess: End Game
Chess: The Piercer’s Game
Beer and Clay: Malting
Beer and Clay: Milling
Stand to Attention: Almost
What’s his Passion?: Size Matters
What’s his Passion?: Love Matters
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