Chapter Seven #2
Cade’s bright gear is all brown by the time we dismount, and I’m sure I look the same. I don’t think I’ve ever flung that much mud in my life. I’m already dying for a shower, but I can’t fight the budding elation I feel looking at the smile on Cade’s face.
There’s a red imprint from where his goggles were sitting, and the rest of his face is flushed with adrenaline beneath the mud spatter. He’s smiling, though. A real smile, that I’m only now realizing I haven’t seen in a while.
I suddenly don’t care how dirty we both are.
All I care about is drinking him in. He’s swaying slightly as he gets his equilibrium on the non-moving ground, looking long and lean in that way that always makes me want to run my hands over him.
I can picture the jut and curve of his hipbones under his pants, and the perfect way my hands wrap around them just to shove him into the wall.
We’re in the shed that passes for an extra garage that we put up next to the trailer.
It’s enough to protect our bikes from the worst of the elements, but it’s not exactly sturdy.
It’s mostly particle board with a little waterproofing slapped on top, and the whole thing shudders with the force of Cade’s body hitting the wall.
I absolutely cannot bring myself to care right now, though. Let the whole damn thing collapse. I’ll build another one. And another. As many as I need to fuck him senseless in.
“I see someone has their motor running,” Cade purrs directly into my mouth, all while he grinds his hips into mine, happy to be pinned between my weight and the wall.
“I will fuck the puns right out of your mouth if that’s what you need, boy.”
I can feel his breath catch, and his body is melting into my arms like hot butter.
“Yes, please.”
The words are muffled, because Cade’s mouth is already on mine again.
I push him harder into the wall and bring one hand up to pin his forehead back, holding him still as I push his mouth open wider to explore.
It’s a slow, lascivious kiss, and I get so lost in it I almost forget that we need to do anything else.
Cade lets out a whine, though, which snaps my attention back to the present. I can feel how hard he is, needy and grinding against me, and I know he’s close to losing it just from this.
Watching him fall apart whenever I truly dominate him is something I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of.
“You’ve been hard this entire time, haven’t you?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth in a growl, I yank at the collar of his jersey to suck bruising kisses into the skin beneath.
He smells like mud and clean sweat, and the salt and musk is an incredible assault on my senses.
All I can feel is CadeCadeCade and it’s making my rational brain flatline.
I grind the heel of my hand just a little too hard into his erection, and watch the flush that climbs up his neck as he inhales sharply.
“Have you always been this much of a slut for getting an engine between your legs? Or are you feeling neglected?”
Cade honest-to-god whimpers, and I don’t give him the chance to answer before I’m forcing my tongue into his wet, waiting mouth.
I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why I get like this with him sometimes.
It feels like nothing’s enough. I want to crawl inside him and wear his skin like a suit of armor, but I can’t, and I don’t know how to put that into any words that make sense.
So all I’m left with is pawing at him and marking him and turning him inside out and doing anything it takes to make him scream.
And Cade, for whatever reason, seems to be hardwired to turn to jello for someone willing to rough him up and put him in his place.
I don’t want to know why, actually. At least if I’m the one doing it, I know it’s because I love him so fucking much there’s too much emotion to get out of me any normal, not-kinky way.
So, we don’t talk about it. We just feel.
I scrabble at Cade’s clothes as he pants at me, yanking his jersey up and hooking it over his head so it’s still tight across his shoulders, looking like he’s about to burst out of the seams. Then I pin both of his wrists over his head, his body squirming beneath mine, as I use my free hand to yank open his pants and drag them down to his thighs.
When I take a second to look at my handiwork, it already takes my breath away.
He’s filthy everywhere the clothes didn’t cover, mud arcing over every line of his body.
There are red indents from everywhere his clothes have been strangling him, and his entire chest is heaving with every breath he takes.
At the center of it all, his cock strains toward me, as if it knows only I can give him what he needs, already pink-tinged and wet at the tip.
“You didn’t answer me,” I say, my voice low as I hold my face close to his.
“Uh,” is the sound that escapes him, breathy and formless, his brain already struggling to keep up with whatever endorphins he’s bathing his internal organs in right now.
“‘Uh’ is not an answer,” I say, reaching out to flick the swollen tip of his cock with my finger, pulling a strangled sound out of Cade and making the whole length of his penis flex for me, like some kind of magic trick. “Have you always been such a slutty rider, or is this just for me?”
“You,” he manages to get out, his voice choked and pitched too high. “All for you.”
I reward him by palming his length, and the way the hot skin pulses under my touch tells me he’s already close. I’m torn between wanting to drag this out, or make him come early and then fuck him boneless through the oversensitivity.
Either way, it needs to be quick. I’m too fucking turned on to let this drag on forever. Cade’s not the only one whose motor is running after this little throwback afternoon.
“Where’s the lube?” I ask, trying not to smile at the face he makes while he’s attempting to concentrate.
“Wha-?”
“I know you brought some, because you can’t resist the chance to get dicked down over a motorcycle. Don’t tell me you don’t have any, because I’ll call you a liar.”
“Pants. Back pocket.”
He grits the word out as I stroke his length, my grip tight enough to border on painful, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s trying not to come.
“None of that, slut. I want you to come for me as soon as you can,” I say, but let go of his cock as soon as I do, leaving him panting and sagging behind me.
I snag his jeans and sift through the pockets until I find the small tube he shoved in there, slathering my hand with some before I turn back to him. He’s still in the same position, hands up against the wall even though I’m not holding them, dick out and desperate for my touch.
Slick sounds fill the air as I coat his needy cock in lube, stroking him a few more times than is strictly necessary, but needing to feel him shudder beneath me again.
“Silas,” he moans, his voice thin and reedy.
“What is it, slut? Isn’t this what you need?”
Cade doesn’t say anything, just exhales loudly, trying to get his hips closer to me even as I take his wrists back into my hand to continue pinning him.
I drop his cock, reaching beneath him to palm his balls, rolling them in my hand for a few seconds while he whines before moving even further.
His thighs are still trapped together by his pants, so I have to push to get my slick fingers in between his cheeks and find his hole.
Once I do, I don’t hold back. I start with two fingers, not being rough, but unrelenting as I push inside him. He lets out an inhuman whine as soon as I find his prostate, and I work over it intently, determined to make him come as quickly as possible.
“Silas. Silas. Silas,” he moans over and over, probably not even conscious of what he’s saying anymore. He’s flushed and wanton, and I need to see him explode before I lose my mind altogether.
I drop his wrists, and this time he doesn’t keep holding them up, instead letting them fall until he’s clinging to the back of my head as he rides my fingers.
His fingernails scrape over my scalp, making me shudder, and the need to be inside him soon consumes me.
I almost forget about making him come first, until his face starts to pinch and his noises get that little bit higher, and I know he’s right on the edge.
“Come on, baby. Show me how desperate you are,” I’m murmuring in his ear, pulling us close enough together that he can rub his erection against my hip, letting my jersey ride up as he leaves a trail of precum over my superheated skin.
“That’s it,” I say. “I want to feel you clench as you come all over yourself, like a needy little thing. Go on, baby. Show me what you need.”
Cade’s movements are smaller and more controlled than before, but he’s grinding down into my hand with determination, and I can feel his muscles tremble as he reaches the edge.
The tip of his cock drags slowly over my skin as he pulls us closer together, then his hips jerk a few times before he finally paints me with his release.
It’s hot, slicking my skin, and I love the way he trembles as he holds me close.
My fingers are still inside of him as he clenches and then relaxes, but I can’t give him enough time to truly relax.
Before the last few drops of cum have spilled from him, I pull my fingers out, spin him around to face the wall and then plunge them back in to the hilt, adding a third in the process.
My fingering becomes less precise now, rougher, trying to open him up wide and overwhelm him at the same time.
I forget all about his cock as I get him ready for me, the noises he’s making—half desperate, half pained—falling around me like raindrops.
As soon as I think we’re there, I pull out of him and press my hands on his shoulders.
His jersey is still bunched and stretched across them, confining him as I bend him over at the waist and shove his face into the wall.
I’m trembling with desire as I pull my own desperate, stiff cock out of my pants, slick myself with more of the lube, and as soon as I press against his entrance, I push myself in as hard as I can.
Cade makes a garbled, harsh sound of surprise, but I still don’t give him the chance to adjust. He’s still relaxed from his orgasm, welcoming me into his tight heat, and it’s easy to set up a brutal rhythm that has his face knocking against the cheap particle board and his breath coming in raspy shouts in time with every fuck.
“What are you?” I ask, leaning forward to drape myself over his back and reaching up to pinch one of his nipples until he squirms.
“Yours,” he groans. “Your slut.”
I can see his hand, trembling hard, move down to start fisting his cock before his erection even flags.
After that, we fall into a sort of lull.
I keep fucking him hard and fast, rumbling in his ear about how desperate he is and how pretty he looks split open for me.
I call him my whore, and listen to him moan.
I listen to the wet, sucking sounds of my body invading his and feel the rumble in his chest as I pinch and squeeze every part of him I can reach.
When I finally come, it’s with a groan, my fingers digging into Cade’s hips to hold him close to me.
His hand speeds up, desperate to drag another orgasm out of himself.
Even once I’ve filled him with my cum, I keep moving, grinding into him steadily, working him even further open with the base of my cock, telling him how much he needs it until he finally gasps and spurts more cum onto the dirty floor, his ass gripping my dick in the process and a raspy noise of desperation coming out of him.
Eventually it’s just the two of us, panting and leaning against the wall, clinging to each other.
Guilt begins to creep in. Only a little, but still.
I don’t like how out of control I feel when I get that way.
I’m calling him a desperate slut, but I’m the desperate one when it happens.
And even though Cade assures me with a smitten, starry-eyed expression that he loves it, I never know if there’s going to be a day that I take it too far.
We’re both quiet as we clean up—as much as it’s possible—and put our gear away before slipping out of the shed. Thank god no one was home, or was conscious enough to come out and notice us. I don’t have it in me to talk to anyone who isn’t Cade right now.