Chapter 8 #2
Dillon moaned, feeling that solid body press all the way up and down his.
Yes. God. He leaned in, pressing his mouth against Coke’s, needing to taste.
Coke moaned for him, then those hard, square hands landed on his ass and pulled him into the kiss.
Pushing back with his butt, Dillon pressed forward with his chest, moving into the kiss even more. Oh, that felt good. Tasted good.
He couldn’t fucking believe people thought this man was old. Dried up. This wasn’t dried up at all. Hell, this was sex at its prime. He could feel Coke, hard against him, and dried up was the last thing he’d say about that. The very last.
He could feel Coke’s muscles, tensing and jerking under his touch. He tugged at Coke’s starched shirt, needing to have some skin, not wanting to rush too much, but… Damn.
Coke’s belly was flat, hard, and fuzzy, and when he touched it, those hands on his ass squeezed hard.
“Look at you. I swear, you’re gonna make me crazy, Coke.
” It was like a moveable feast. He kissed Coke’s neck, yanking the shirt all the way off.
Coke moaned for him—the sound was deep and raw and vibrated his lips.
Someone liked that. His fingers wandered, happily, pushing into the hair on Coke’s chest to find the little brown nipples.
He rubbed them with his thumbs, setting the edge of his teeth to Coke’s collarbone.
“Dillon. Honey, you’ll make me. It’s been a… Oh…” The edge of desperation made him grin.
“Been a while? I hear that.” Hell, it had been what? Over a year for him, and Coke was the most exciting thing he’d ever seen. Still, he wanted to take time to savor it a little.
“Yeah.” Coke nodded, stepped back a little, and tugged at his T-shirt. “Let me see?”
“Uh-huh.” Easing away a tiny bit more, Dillon struggled out of his shirt, tossing it aside. He wasn’t as heavily muscled as Coke, but he did okay.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Those callused fingers trailed down his belly, those eyes burning. “Ain’t you fine?”
That had him preening, loving the feel of Coke’s hand on him. Dillon smiled, leaning into the touch. “I love the way you feel.”
Coke didn’t answer, just lifted his other hand and touched the line of Dillon’s waistband, feather-light.
“These, too?” The jeans were way too damned tight anyway. They had to go.
“Yes.”
Well, that was straightforward. Not as straightforward as the way Coke popped his button, though. Wiggling, Dillon undid his jeans and pushed them down, skinning out of his boxer-briefs, too. There. It was all hanging out.
Coke grinned at him, a little nervous. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Well, he sure hoped not. Not bad, that was. He was hard enough to pound nails. “Now you.”
One hand reached out, wrapped around his cock, thumb sliding over the tip, the calluses rough. Hips rocking hard, Dillon moaned, just letting that touch wash through him like a tidal wave of pleasure. Oh, yes. Coke went to work, like that man’d been waiting to touch him, stroke him off.
Dillon closed his eyes for a second, letting everything focus on that touch. Then he opened them up and stared right into Coke’s eyes. “I want to see the rest of you.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Someone wasn’t listening.
“Coke.” His balls were drawing up, and he was very afraid he’d bust. Leaning in, he kissed the corner of Coke’s mouth. “Your pants.”
Coke turned, mouth meeting his fully, free hand fumbling between them. Hell, yes. It was about damned time. Dillon remembered he had hands about that time, too, pulling at Coke’s jeans, wanting in. He wanted to smell and taste… Oh. Taste.
Coke’s cock matched the rest of him—heavy, stocky, full and strong. Dillon was surprised at the heavy curls crowning it, so much darker than he’d expected.
“God.” Fighting off Coke’s hands, Dillon dropped to his knees, giving that amazing cock a closer gander. Much closer.
“Dillon.” Coke stared down like he was a mirage or something, opening and closing his fingers, over and over. “Oh, damn.”
“I got you, Coke. Promise.” Grinning, he leaned in and rubbed his cheek against Coke’s skin, feeling how hot and damp the man was.
“Gonna hold you to that.” There were fascinating scars, heavy ropy ones from bulls, tiny neat ones from surgeries, all of them teasing his fingers.
“No problem.” Testing, Dillon licked along one hipbone, tasting Coke’s skin, enjoying the salt.
Coke’s dick bobbed, jerked hard, and the rich, male scent got stronger.
“I can smell you, Coke. So hot for me.” He didn’t waste a whole lot more breath before he was licking at Coke, sucking the head of Coke’s prick into his mouth.
Coke cried out and he jerked forward for a second, pushing deep, before pulling back. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just so good.”
Filling his lungs, Dillon rocked back enough to nod, stroking Coke’s hips with his fingers. “You’re not hurting me.”
“Good. Good, ’cause I wouldn’t.” Coke arched a little, bones creaking, entire body begging for him.
“I know that.” It was a little cool and a little sad that Coke was so worried, so concerned. Dillon licked some more, easing his way to sucking this time, then sealing his lips tight around the shaft.
Coke hollered again, the sound sharp and harsh, then those little, jerky movements started up again, rubbing Coke’s heavy prick on his tongue.
Sucking harder, Dillon tried to give Coke what he needed, remembering his hands again just in time to reach up and cup Coke’s balls, rolling them gently.
He hoped to hell it was working for Coke, because it was so working for him.
Of course, the rate the salt was dropping onto his tongue, he didn’t really have to worry.
One of Coke’s hands landed on his shoulder, Coke shifting a little, spreading for him.
That was the ticket. Dillon breathed in deep through his nose before pushing all the way down, taking Coke to the root.
God damn, but he could still do that. And with Coke, it was fucking amazing.
“Dillon!” He heard Coke’s head thunk against the wall. He’d never heard his name sound like that. Never. And all sorts of people called his name. This was a million times better.
Coke stretched up, tight as a bow, balls drawn tight. He wanted it all, every bit, so Dillon pulled harder, bringing his hands up to grab Coke’s hips. So hot. So damned hot.
“Uhn.” Coke made this damn near broken sound and came for him like a ton of bricks.
Dillon took it all, took every bit, licking and sucking until Coke stopped shuddering and started shaking. Then he pulled free and kissed Coke’s hip.
“D-damn.” Coke blinked down at him, stunned as could be.
“Uh-huh.” He grinned, feeling damned good, even if his hips were rocking, his whole body trying to get some friction.
“‘C’mere.” One of those hands reached out for him. Dillon took it, letting Coke haul him up so he could rub and love on that hot skin. Coke was just solid as all hell. Coke’s hands landed on his ass, dragging him off his feet a little, moving him against that flat, fuzzy belly.
Gasping, he bucked, testing Coke’s strength without meaning to.
Not that he needed to worry. The man held him like he weighed nothing.
All those muscles to play with. Hump. Climb on.
Coke was like a studly little jungle gym.
Dillon liked the gym. Jungle or otherwise.
He lifted his face for a kiss, wanting more.
Coke took his mouth as if it was the last kiss on earth, tongue fucking his lips, stealing his breath clean away.
He climbed up Coke’s body, wrapping his legs around Coke’s waist and humping.
Dillon was far beyond waiting for anything more dignified.
Coke never wavered, not even a bit. Those hands moved him, wrapped around his ass like they were meant to be there, squeezing and rubbing.
Dillon moved faster and faster, his cock squeezed between his body and Coke’s, these desperate little sounds coming out of him. Mainly, “Please.”
“Come on. Come on, honey. Gimme. I need to see you.”
“Okay.” His head fell back and his hips punched forward, and Dillon came like a freight train, his whole body sawing back and forth.
Coke held him, panting, eyes burning into him. So hot.
“Coke…” He could run up three level stadiums in seconds and hardly breathe hard. Coke made him pant.
“Mmm-hmm. Got you.”
“Thank God.” The wait had been worth it. So, so worth it. Now he just had to find a way to make sure it happened over and over again.
Coke walked them over to the bed, sitting carefully. “This okay?”
“Yeah. This is good.” The urge to wheeze passed, and he kissed Coke’s jaw. “You good?”
“I think I might be way better than good, honey.”
“Way better. I might have to keep you.” He meant it, but he kept it light, not wanting to scare Coke off.
“Mmm. ‘kay.” Coke cleaned them off a little, got them settled on the bed. “What’s your position on naps?”
“I like them. I’m all for them.” Stop. Babbling. Sleep.
“Cool.” Boom.
Snoring.
Wow.
Dillon pulled back a little to stare at Coke, loving the spiky eyelashes, the still flushed cheeks. Well. Who knew? Dillon filed that little tidbit away in his Coke cabinet—‘Passes out after sex’.
That was kinda cool
Almost as cool was being close enough to see the tiny scar on Coke’s chin, one that was almost invisible. Almost as cool as being able to touch it, feel the stubble on his fingertip. He traced the lines, the scars, smiling when Coke shushed him a little, like hush, sleeping.
There was a spot for him, right on Coke’s shoulder, sort of Dillon-shaped, and he took it, settling down.
He’d nap a little. Then they’d find some food, and maybe they’d mess around some more. Maybe they wouldn’t. One way or the other, it wouldn’t be boring.