by Zimmerman, L
Clayton’s nostrils flared and Grant was airborne once more. He didn't really have time to complain about the manhandling because Clayton was carrying him down the hall and straight for the bedroom—complete with kicking the door fully open and everything. Sexy lumberjack montage, anyone?
Dropping Grant on the bed, Clayton’s hands went straight for the fly of Grant's jeans. He only paused in de-pantsing Grant to wrench his own shirt off and scramble out of his jeans.
Grant shoved his pants down, shimmying out of them and kicking them somewhere across the room and far, far away. Clayton was focused on him—completely focused on Grant and no one else. Not his job, not his past, and most definitely not Parker.
Overcome with a compelling sensation of pure need, Grant reached out, making grabby hands until Clayton was clambering on the bed to push Grant back against the mattress. Grant threw his arms around Clayton's shoulders, grinning stupidly when Clayton finally descended to kiss him senseless.
Clayton stretched out on top of him, kisses alternating between rough, biting presses, to gentle nips that were wet and open. He twined their fingers together, gripping tight while he set about trying to mark every inch of Grant's skin; lips, jaw, throat, collarbone, the dip in his chest, anything he could reach without having to let go of Grant's hands.
Grant pulled Clayton’s hands up and up until he had that mouth on his own again. With Clayton distracted in their liplock, Grant lifted his legs, wrapped them around Clayton’s hips, and shifted his weight to roll them over. Clayton’s breath left him in a whoosh, eyes wide while looking at Grant, in all his boxer-clad glory, as he perched himself on Clayton’s hips and rocked back. Grant, himself, was actually startled when he felt the hot press of Clayton’s erection through his boxers, sliding between the cheeks of his ass with the head nudging up behind his balls.
There weren't enough expletives for Grant to properly convey how his legs shook from that single touch. He could feel the muscles of Clayton’s stomach twitching under his fingers, could feel every expansion of Clayton’s chest when he breathed in, and feel Clayton’s cock against his ass like it belonged.
Belatedly, Grant was extremely thankful they’d exchanged medical records a week and a half ago, because there was no way he was going to waste time fumbling to find a condom once things started to get good. Clayton’s hands grabbed at his hips, pushing Grant back at the same time he rocked upwards and --fuck, that was a mega wedgie he’d just gotten.
“Oh my god, dude,” Grant breathed out, leaning forward to stick his ass up in the air. “You just gave me the ultimate wedgie.”
Clayton laughed, his eyes bright and warm with nothing but fond desire.
“Take them off, then,” he suggested, voice a low rasp that sent a shudder straight through Grant like an electric shock.
“Okay,” Grant's hands shook as he sat up on his knees and stuck his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers. He didn’t even have a chance to pull them off before Clayton was taking advantage the moment to grab Grant, lift him up and toss him right onto his back again. Grant was totally ready to voice his protests about it when Clayton pretty much ripped his boxers off and tossed them across the room. The sexiness was only a little ruined when they landed on Clayton’s lamp and knocked it over with a loud clatter.
Clayton glanced over his shoulder, shrugged, and then turned back to stare down at Grant, naked and covered in a full body flush that left patches of blotchy red marking his chest and throat.
Looking pleased, Clayton's eyes swept along the length of Grant's body, eyes locking on his cock and how it was thick and hard against Grant's hip. Grant, feeling self conscious, reached down to nervously wrap a hand around the base of his dick, squeezing it and giving Clayton a hesitant smile. "Like what you see?"
"Love it," Clayton corrected, reaching out and swatting his hand away so he could wrap his fingers around Grant's cock. Grant hissed, right leg jerking and breath leaving him in a punch as Clayton adjusted his grip, dragging his fist up the entire length of Grant's cock. He seemed focused on the task at hand, thumb making a cursory swipe over the head to smear precum everywhere.
Grant could feel his thighs quivering, could feel the tremor in his muscles shoot up his legs, hips and spine until he was slowly arching his back in reaction to Clayton’s touch. Lips pressed softly to his sternum, Clayton’s hand jerking him slowly, holding Grant down with a palm to his hip.
“Clayton, Jesus Christ, dude,” Grant gasped out, hands flying up and digging into Clayton’s hair, trying to drag the guy up for a proper kiss. “You’re killing me,” he muttered against Clayton’s mouth. Clayton, the smug bastard, grinned and nipped Grant's bottom lip at the same time he squeezed the head of Grant's cock, which was like pulling some kind of string inside of Grant, because he physically jerked at the sensation.
One second, Clayton was hovering over him and jacking him off, and the next he was pulling back to shove his underwear down, fumbling a bit in an attempt to shimmy out of them without actually getting off of the bed. It was completely graceless, but Grant was a little more focused on the fact that he couldn't actually force himself to look away from the trail of dark hair that led down from Clayton‘s navel and circled the thick base of his cock.
Unable to help but compare, Grant noted that Clayton wasn't as long as he was, but made it up by being a great deal thicker.
Clayton braced himself over Grant, ducking down for his favorite pastime of trying to cover Grant in hickies. Grant, of course, had no objections, because he was currently groping his way down Clayton’s body before his fingers bumped the base of Clayton’s cock.
Grant instantly curled his hand around it and squeezed, the flesh warm and heavy in his palm. Clayton’s hips twitched, teeth scraping at Grant's throat, which was obviously a sign of encouragement. “Should I talk dirty to you?” Grant mumbled into his ear, jacking him slowly.
“Shut up.”
“Aw, you're totally lying."
When Clayton didn't answer, Grant took that as a sign of agreement. “So,” he began conversationally, figuring well hey, the truth never hurt anyone. “I used to think about us fucking in the office.”
Clayton stilled, teeth resting on the tendon of Grant's throat and his cock twitching in Grant's palm.
“You know, pushing everything off the desk, bending me over it—or throwing me on it, actually, either one works. The end result is going to town in the middle of broad daylight at work.” All of this was true. Grant wasn’t really sure he was fond of public sex, but he was fond of daytime sex.
The breath ghosting over his neck grew heavier as Clayton growled softly and dug his teeth in just enough that there was a sharp burst of pleasure-pain that had Grant jerking and hissing.
“Public sex not your thing? Totally understandable. We can always work in christening the rest of your apartment. Have you tried checking the durability of your table? You hardly use it, you should totally throw me up on it sometime. Better yet, I’d be up for throwing you on it some time.”
Clayton was rocking his hips, fucking into the circle of Grant's fist and sucking probably the most vicious hickey of Grant's life into his neck. All it really did was encourage Grant to keep talking.
“It’s going to happen. Me fucking you? Yeah. You act all big and bad, but I want to be the one who makes you shake and beg for it.” Grant rasped, and oh, that really was kind of sexy. Apparently, Clayton thought so too, because he was snarling and biting down for one punishing second before he drew back and stared down at Grant with eyes so dilated there was barely a ring of hazel iris on the edges.
“Tonight, you can fuck me, though.” Grant added, because he had some sort of death sentence.
"Jesus, Grant," Clayton groaned and then sucked in a sharp breath, palm pressing into the middle of Grant's chest and shoving him down into the bed at the same time he leaned up to fumble around in the drawer to his bedside table. Grant arched up, biting at Clayton’s shoulder and barely getting a good nip in
before Clayton was pressing him back again like a disobedient child.
Sitting back with a small container of lubricant in hand, Clayton first grabbed Grant left leg, shifting it to rest on his hip, and then Grant right knee was being hooked over Clayton’s shoulder. "Fuck," he gasped out, body clenching spasmodically from sheer anticipation.
“Shit,” Clayton hissed, fumbling with the cap and jerking forward to try and grab it. He flailed from overbalancing and suddenly there was lube spilling over his fingers and onto Grant’ stomach. Grant hissed, squirming at the sudden and surprising shock of cold.
“Dude, what?” Grant watched Clayton struggle to keep hold of the tube as it slipped and slid in his grasp.
After a second, he muttered, "fuck it," squeezing the tube so that Grant almost shrieked when there was suddenly a massive puddle all over his stomach, making the hair around his belly button clump together unpleasantly.
“Dude. What the FUCK?”
“It was already almost empty.” Clayton said nonchalantly, dipping three fingers into the miniature lube lake on Grant's stomach and tossing the bottle off to the side. Since Clayton had decided to turn Grant into a human slip'n'slide, the lubricant was starting to ooze down Grant's hips and sides, dripping onto the bed while Clayton hiked Grant's leg up like it was no big deal, fingers pressing up along his crack and then down to put pressure against his hole. Grant twitched, torn between indignation at being covered in lube, and moaning at the initial stretch of penetration.
“Relax," Clayton said stiffly, and then thrust his fingers and curled them against Grant's prostate. Grant sucked in a sharp breath, hips jerking and pawing at the covers to keep from rocking back down onto Clayton's fingers. Clayton seemed to know this, because he did it again with enough force that Grant's leg twitched and his toes curled.
“Do-,” Grant was on the verge of just gibbering out groans and inane babble if it meant Clayton didn't stop. He was stretching and teasing, using the perfect amount of pressure and coming at this delicious angle that had Grant's cock straining against his belly. “Do you finger exercise?"
“What.” Clayton’s middle finger teased against his prostate and Grant made this awkward half-chopped whine that was more of a squirrel mating call than an actual groan.
“Your fingers are magic,” he gasped at the same time Clayton’s pinky wriggled inside.
“Shut up.” Clayton laughed, pumping his fingers out so much that Grant thought something was going to break inside of him. He forced himself to breathe easy, relaxing and feeling the way his body just stretched compliantly against the intrusion. Clayton hissed, since there was no way he hadn’t felt the way Grant just gave way to him, and bent down to press their mouths together in an agonizingly slow kiss.
Grant could kiss Clayton all day, could press their lips together over and over again until his mouth was raw and swollen. He could also—he could also try not to sound too startled when Clayton’s fingers were no longer inside of him and Clayton was scooping at the lube smeared all over Grant's stomach.
That was attractive.
Clayton must have known Grant wanted to make some sort of comment, because he was biting down on Grant's top lip and sucking it between his teeth in a way that had his brain flatlining. Grant scrambled to grab at Clayton’s shoulders, unable to keep his hands against the bed any longer, and then dug his fingers into the hard, muscled flesh of Clayton’s biceps. He could feel Clayton’s arm flex as it was lowered down to slick himself up, could feel each twitch and shift while Clayton went for a second scoop just to smear it all over Grant's ass, cheeks, and inner thighs.
“Never enough lube,” Grant muttered with a smile into Clayton’s mouth, getting his tongue nipped at for his efforts. So worth it.
“Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never heard that.” Grant pulled away, just enough to grin up at Clayton. “It’s on like, every gay porn site I’ve ever been to. Unless you don’t watch porn, which makes sense. I bet you don’t even know how to google gay porn, do yo—oh my GOD—”
Clayton hadn’t even given Grant a warning, pushing in right during the middle of Grant's rambling and filling him up to a point where it was just shy of painful. Grant went rigid, exhaling sharply and sucking in a breath right afterwards. He scrabbled at Clayton’s shoulders, every muscle utterly tense while Clayton stilled halfway inside of him.
A hand pressed against his hip, steadying him while Clayton stared down at Grant, watching every tic and twitch that came across his face.
“You’re a jerk.” Grant gritted out, clenching down for good measure. Clayton’s hips rocked, pushing in a good inch further and making Grant decide that he totally needed to be holding onto Clayton right now. He just really wanted his arms around Clayton because Clayton was inside of him, okay. It wasn’t as if Clayton was steamrolling his dick into Grant, but it just felt so intimate that hey, Grant felt really justified in bringing his arms around Clayton’s shoulders and pulling him down until Clayton’s face was pressed against his throat.
He could feel Clayton draw in a deep breath, nuzzling at Grant's throat as he finally sunk entirely inside of him. Grant had to force himself to relax against the intrusion. Clayton's cock was pushing him open, filling him up, completing the feel of Clayton’s body pressing him down into the bed, skin hot and muscles taut under his fingers.
Clayton's arms slid up his back, fingers curling over Grant's shoulders and pressing into the dip of his collarbone. It kept Grant firmly in place, holding him down so Clayton could pull out halfway and thrust in with a quick snap of his hips that punched the air right out of Grant's gut.
Grant dug his fingers into the short hair at the base of Clayton’s skull, holding on tight while Clayton shifted and thrust in deeper. It was like breaking the very last dam of restraint when Grant couldn’t bite back the wheeze of a moan that left him.
Grant hooked his ankles behind Clayton’s back, rolling up with each downward thrust, encouraging Clayton in any way possible. “I seriously think your dick is going to kill me,” Grant gasped out, “It’s magestic, dude. Were you a porn star in a past life? Can I call you Dirk Diggler--oh my godddd,” that was when Clayton bore down on him, pressing their stomachs together so that, combined with the lube Clayton had spilled there earlier, the slip-slide of their bodies pressing into his own throbbing cock was driving him wild.
Clayton sped up, fucking into Grant with increased fervor. He moved his arm, where Grant's calf had fallen to the crook of his elbow, and pushed Grant's leg up until his knee was bumping his ear. Grant was pretty sure he normally could not bend that well, but it didn’t really matter right now because Clayton was most definitely pistoning right against his prostate. Grant's choked, his other leg falling down to the bed and his heel digging madly against the mattress for some kind of purchase as he gasped against Clayton’s jaw. He could feel teeth bite a path up his throat, stubble scratching under his chin.
“Dude. Dude. Oh god. Oh my god, fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Grant groaned, clamping his eyes shut because he felt like his entire body was catching fire. Every single nerve was trembling, muscles vibrating like he was going to burst out of his skin. There was a heat deep in his belly, pulsing out through his heart and legs. He knew he was close, because he kept forgetting to breathe every few seconds. Clayton was panting into his throat, kissing sloppily and fucking into him with reckless abandon.
The hand that was holding Grant's leg up pushed harder, spread him wider so Clayton could nudge in just that bit deeper. It was like being submerged in a sea of ecstasy, Grant's head swimming and his cock so hard he could feel beads of precum smearing all over his stomach and mixing with the lube already there.
“Come on,” Grant begged breathlessly, “Come on, come on, fuck. Fuck, Clayton.”
Grant got a wet tongue sliding up his throat and lips sucking hungrily on his adam‘s apple for his efforts.
“Mmn,” Clayton grunted, fingers digging into Grant's hip for a second and then moving to grab Grant's ot
her leg and push it to the side. It made Grant feel so exposed he thought he would break under the strain. The stretch hurt, made the joints of his thighs ache in a way he’d never experienced before, but it also made him impossibly turned on. Clayton rolled his hips, grinding inside of Grant before he returned back to the maddening thrusting. Grant had exactly three seconds to process his balls tightening and every muscle in his body going utterly weak before his orgasm slammed into him like a wrecking ball to the gut.
“OhhFFFuhh-” Grant's voice left him, a squeaking sound replacing it when everything tensed up and his cock pulsed thick, hot stripes across their chests and stomachs. Clayton snarled, hips working faster while Grant clenched down around him, body tightening with each burst of come that was practically forced out of him.
Clayton pulled out suddenly and quickly, fisting himself and his hand flying over his cock until he was crashing their lips together in a fierce kiss at the same time he came, spilling all over Grant's torso and thighs.