Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Dillon got out all the stuff he’d picked up at the REI in Reno for Coke.
Long undies. Double socks. A hand warmer.
Flannel. Yeah. He knew Coke had hiking boots in his bag.
That would do for Coke’s first foray out in the snow.
They’d have to get Coke new gloves, as the ones Dillon had would be a bit tight, and Coke needed a new coat, but a man had to try those on.
“Babe? You about ready to get dressed?”
“I’m dressed, cowboy.” Coke wandered into the bedroom, stunning in a flannel shirt, a quilted flannel on top of that, and a pair of jeans.
“Do you have longies on?”
“Huh?”
God, that was cute.
Texans.
“Long undies.” Dillon picked up said longies and waved them.
“Man, I bet you look hot wearing that. You got ’em on?”
“I do.” He was vain enough to want to wear denim, but not crazy enough to make that his only layer. “You show me you wearing them—I’ll show you mine.”
“That’s fair, least for me.” Coke gave him a grin and started unbuttoning.
“Oh, it’s more than fair.” He would get to see Coke naked. Coke just got to see his underwear.
“Pshaw. You got that belly, that fine ass.”
His cheeks heated, pleasure warming him right up. “Thanks, babe. I like that you like.”
“I like. Lemme see.” The shirts were tugged off, giving him a look at that broad, fuzzy body.
Dillon’s fingers flexed, wanting to touch. He loved everything about Coke, from the scars to the tattoos. Coke opened his belt buckle, started working off the jeans. Oh. He’d splurged on some fancy boxer briefs for Coke—different colors, different fabrics. He hadn’t seen Coke wear them until today.
“Oh, babe. You wore the green ones!” Dillon was a little worried that they’d not make it out in the snow.
His bullfighter blushed, gave him a grin. “They’re real soft. I like them best.”
“I like the way they look.” He liked the way they felt, too, when he reached out and touched them.
Coke’s eyes crossed and that pretty cock jerked. “Careful, now.”
“Why? Unless you’d rather go tromp through the snow…”
“I want to see you now. You promised.”
“I did.” Backing up a step, Dillon stripped down to just the long underwear bottoms, wiggling a bit.
He had millions of people staring at him in a year.
Millions. But it was that expression—hot and happy, as if he was the center of the world—that did it for him.
He struck a pose. “What do you think, babe?”
“I think that I am the luckiest fucker alive.”
“Oh.” He kinda flung himself at Coke, hopping up for an all-fours hug.
Those strong arms wrapped around him, squeezed him tight.
“Love the way you feel.” Luckily they were right by the bed, so if Coke got tired… Which he rarely did.
“Good.” Coke’s hands were on his ass, fingers squeezing and rubbing. “You got the prettiest ass in rodeoing.”
Which was high praise, honestly, given that he had Sam Bell and Balta to compete with there. They both had fine asses, though Dillon would never tell them. Unless he was drunk. Which he’d done to Balta once. He might have even felt up Balta’s ass…
Okay, he was getting distracted.
Coke was waiting, so Dillon kissed him, just to say thank you. Coke kissed him back, full force, tongue pushing between his lips as if there was nothing else the man wanted to do, ever. Thank God for that, because Dillon could spend all his time just like this. With Coke.
“Cowboy…” Coke’s lips left his, just for a second.
“Yours.” Heart and soul and all other sorts of places.
Coke hummed softly, and he got that grin, that wondering smile that was his and his alone.
“So. Bed or snow?” He grinned back.
“I have to choose?”
“Which one you want first, yeah.” They just needed to do them consecutively, not concurrently.
“Well, I reckon the pups are still napping and I’m more nekkid than not. So bed.”
“Oh, that was what I was hoping for.” Dillon let go, knowing Coke would give him a good toss on the bed.
He landed smack in the middle, his bullfighter looking him up and down.
Dillon hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his long undies, peeling them down a bit. Just enough to tease.
Coke’s eyes fastened onto his belly like a laser, and the man’s lips parted. The fabric slid down another inch, his cock making a tent there now. God, this was fun. Coke stepped forward, tongue wetting his parted lips, and a dark spot appeared on the green boxer briefs.
Dillon swallowed, letting his legs fall open, letting his hands reach for Coke. Damn. Coke didn’t say a word, just came to him, lips slipping up along his cock.
“Coke!” Oh, hell. He was in trouble.
“Mmmhmm?” Fuck. That mouth was wrapping around his cock, nice and careful. From this angle, he could see the heavy, still-red scars on the back of Coke’s neck.
Frowning, he stroked them a bit, hoping Coke wasn’t overdoing it. Sometimes he forgot because Coke was so strong.
That mouth moved lower, tongue working the shaft of his dick.
“Coke.” He loved the feel of Coke’s mouth on him, of the heat and wetness of it.
“Mmmhmm.” Coke couldn’t move fast, but the pressure was enough to make his toes curl.
His belly went tight, his balls drawing up. It was good enough to make him moan. Coke’s callused hand found his sac, and the man cupped it in one palm, rolling it firmly. Dillon’s heels drummed the mattress, his body arching up. Fuck, yes.
He felt Coke’s approval in every inch of his cock.
“Please. Coke.” He wasn’t sure if he was begging for more sucking, or for Coke to come up and kiss him. Whatever.
Coke moaned softly, that mouth sinking down deeper, taking him in and in and in.
“Oh…” Oh and maybe oh. Dillon rocked, his hips moving like crazy, his chest heaving.
His dick slipped deep in Coke’s mouth, the tip nudging the man’s throat. When Coke swallowed around him, the heat and pressure made him want to scream. Dillon lasted all of maybe five seconds that way. Then Coke’s fingers nudged his balls again, and he just lost it, giving Coke everything he had.
Fuck. Fuck. Coke swallowed around him and it was so fucking huge, so big. He shook with it, barely able to believe his good luck. He had this man all to himself.
Those hands eased him through it, eased him down into the mattress. “Good.”
“Good? Coke, that doesn’t even begin.” Not even close. Good was a pale reflection of what that had been.
Coke’s chuckle ghosted over the tip of his cock, soft enough to tickle.
“When I can move, I’m gonna tear you up…”
That was a full-out laugh, hearty and happy. “I’m looking forward to it, cowboy.”
“Mmm. Yeah? Which part do you like best?” His hand felt heavy, but he managed to start petting.
“Shit, Dillon. I just like you.” Coke kissed the tip of his dick, tongue barely touching the slit. “I like your flavor, your smell.” One hand caressed his ass. “Your pretty backside.”
“Mmm. You want it, babe?” He was ready. He could let Coke in now. His energy was coming back.
“I can let you rest…” That hand moved farther down, though, finger teasing his hole.
“I think I’m rested.” His cock thought so, too. A lot. It was rising again, sure as anything.
“Do you?” Coke hummed, lips near his balls, tongue moving them from side to side.
“Uh-huh.” His breath caught in his chest, his toes curling again.
Jesus, there was nothing like lazy, focused Coke. Nothing. Coke spread his legs, tongue slipping behind his balls now. Dillon grunted, his breath hitching good and hard. Oh, yeah. His cock was definitely back up. “Need you, babe.”
“Got me.” Coke got him all right, got him good and wet, got him slick, then pushed over him, strong arms on either side of his shoulders.
Dillon spread wide, pushing his hips up so Coke could line up with his hole. Easy.
“Dillon.” Coke slid into him, sank deep and spread him. He got to watch the thick muscles ripple for him, bulge.
“Mine.” He gripped those wide shoulders, holding on for dear life. That fat cock pressed into him, opening him up.
“Yeah.” He hadn’t had Coke like this, covering him, every inch of him strong and sure, since the accident. It was almost enough to short out his brain. Not quite, because he wanted to see and feel and be with Coke. He wanted to make it last.
Those amazing muscles rippled, Coke staring at him, looking at him as if he was the center of the earth. Fuck. Fuck, it was hot. “Cowboy. Want to do this forever.”
“Okay.” Okay, he was right there with that. Yes.
Coke nodded once, then started moving, hard, strong strokes that made him shake, made him cry out. He held on as hard as he could, loving on whatever skin he could reach with his mouth. He was a lover, after all.
“Lean up here. Kiss me. Can’t reach you.”
Dillon pulled himself up mainly with his abs, knowing Coke loved how that felt. Then he gave Coke a kiss, hard and deep. Coke cried out, slamming into his ass with something close to desperation. That was okay with him. It really was. He understood, even. His kiss became a little ravenous.
Coke lost it, driving into him mindlessly, hand hard on his hip as his bullfighter’s eyes rolled. He was gonna have bruises. Fucking hot.
Dillon found himself chanting Coke’s name, pushing his bullfighter to come for him, to let him feel it deep inside. He was gonna blow without Coke even touching him this time.
Coke’s shoulders rippled, a deep roar pushing from the man’s chest as that fine, fat cock pulsed, heat flooding him. Grunting, Dillon bit at the skin of Coke’s neck, just hard enough to anchor himself. Then he was coming, too, his cock pushing against Coke’s belly.
Coke held himself up, arms shaking for a second, before he pulled out and landed beside Dillon.
“God.” The word came right out of him, explosive and yet breathless.
Coke grunted, breathing fucking hard.
Dillon grinned. Now they’d have to snuggle and dry off. Everyone knew you didn’t dare go out in the snow all sweaty.
Coke’s hand landed on his belly, solid and warm.
“Mmm. We could have a snack. A nap…”
“’Kay.” Coke was almost asleep already, Dillon could tell.
They would nap. Eat. Coke would end up doing housework. They might get out in the snow by tomorrow.
It was warmer in bed anyway.