Chapter 6 Cider Sparks #6
“Slather it on, old man. Get my cock messy. Then do your hole. I want to see your fingers stretch you, want to watch you open up before you take me.”
His eyes burned as he obeyed, thick hands stroking lube over the length of my cock, working it in with slow, reverent twists.
Precome mixed with the lube, made everything slicker, filthier, every stroke stoking the fire in my gut.
I groaned, letting my hips roll up into his fist, watching the hunger in his eyes as he smeared me from base to tip, fingers squeezing the head, working every inch until I was dripping, ready.
His own hand disappeared between his cheeks, fingers slick and glistening, sliding into his hole, spreading himself wide for me.
I couldn’t look away—the sight of him, all muscle and hair and sweat, riding his own fingers, working them deeper with a gasp, sent a dark thrill straight through my chest.
“Good,” I bit out, voice rough. “Climb on. Ride me. Show me how much you need it.”
A wicked grin flashed across his face. He straddled my hips, guiding my cock to his entrance, the tip rubbing over that spit-slick, well-stretched rim, still hot and tight. I grabbed his thighs, spreading him wide, forcing him to take me slow, the head pushing in, breaching, making us both shudder.
“Take it all, Richard. Sink down. I want to feel you squeeze the life out of me.”
He groaned, eyes squeezing shut, sweat dripping from his temple as he lowered himself inch by inch, swallowing my cock, the stretch almost brutal, the heat making my head spin. Once he bottomed out, his ass flush to my thighs, we both paused, gasping, trembling, clutching at each other for balance.
“Kiss me,” I demanded, voice nothing but need.
His mouth crashed into mine, teeth clashing, tongues sliding together, the kiss wet and savage. My hands dragged up his back, nails digging into his traps, holding him close as he began to move—hips rolling, grinding, cock bouncing against my abs, leaving streaks of slick.
Every bounce forced another gasp, another desperate sound from his chest. The way his hole squeezed my cock, milking every inch, made my vision blur. Sweat pooled between our bodies, every movement slick, frictionless, filthy.
A sudden surge of want hit—I grabbed his wrist, dragging his hand up so his arm framed my face, pressing his pit to my mouth.
The scent hit hard, ripe with sweat and heat and the sharp tang of his body.
My tongue darted out, licking along the edge, tasting salt and man, sucking until my mouth was full of his taste.
“Fuck, Derek—” His voice was a plea and a curse, hips stuttering, cock leaking down my chest. He leaned in, tongue flicking into my own pit, sucking, biting, both of us greedy, messy, owning every second.
We spat into each other’s mouths, slow and deliberate, spit pooling on tongues before being swallowed, a filthy communion that made us both snarl with need. Another kiss—hot, deep, spit-slick, tongues twisting, the taste of armpit and lube and sweat, every part of us shared.
My hands roamed up his sides, gripping the flex of muscle, the ridges of his ribs, the wide shelf of his back. I worshipped every inch with my touch, my lips never far from his skin, biting his shoulder, licking at the curve of his neck, nipping at the line of his jaw.
“Harder,” I ordered, voice a dark growl. “Fuck yourself on me. Milk my cock. I want to feel your ass squeeze me so tight you see stars.”
Richard obeyed, grinding down, bouncing on my cock with frantic, desperate need. The sound of skin slapping, our sweat mixing, his balls smacking against my thighs, filled the room. I grabbed his face, spit pooling on my tongue, feeding it to him in another savage kiss.
“Say it,” I demanded, voice low. “Tell me who owns you. Tell me whose cock you crave.”
A guttural moan broke from his throat, head dropping to my shoulder. “Yours, Derek.”
Hearing it sent a savage jolt through me, hips thrusting up, forcing him to take every inch, every brutal stretch.
I bit at his throat, tongue lapping at the sweat there, spit mixing with the salt of his skin.
He shuddered, cock dragging against my abs, hole clutching tight, both of us desperate for more.
We never stopped moving, never stopped tasting—every kiss a filthy exchange of spit, every movement a claiming. My tongue licked his pit again, savoring the rich, animal tang, hands grabbing his ass, spreading him wider, forcing him to take me deeper.
The raw sound of his surrender set my body on fire.
I shoved him off my lap, spun him onto his knees, palms planting him on all fours at the edge of the bed.
My hands clamped around his waist, nails digging in, every muscle in my arms flexing as I lined my cock up with his spit-slick, aching hole.
The sight of him—broad shoulders flexed, sweat dripping down the furred slope of his back, ass pushed up for me, hole still pink and swollen from everything I’d already done—was enough to make my mouth water, my cock throb.
“Stay just like that,” I growled, voice more animal than man, fists clenching tight on his hips.
My cock pressed to his entrance, the blunt head pushing in, stretching him open in one long, brutal glide.
The fit was tight, perfect, that hairy rim squeezing every inch, the heat of him enough to drag a ragged gasp from my chest.
A shudder went through his frame, his head dropping, beard rubbing the sheets, spine arching as I bottomed out. “God, yes—fuck, Derek, fill me, ruin me, want it all—”
No mercy tonight. I pulled out, slammed back in, hips snapping forward, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room.
My balls swung up, smacking his, the base of my cock grinding into his ass with every brutal thrust. Sweat poured off me, hands slick on his waist, grip never loosening, holding him exactly where I wanted, forcing him to take everything.
Words tumbled out of my mouth, hot and relentless. “Mine. All mine tonight. You feel that? Feel how deep I am? Gonna fuck you open, old man, fuck you until you can’t walk—”
Richard’s voice broke on a moan, his cock swinging between his legs, leaking onto the sheets.
I reached around, wrapped my fist around the thick shaft, jerking him in time to my thrusts, feeling the throb and flex, the desperate heat.
My other hand splayed over his shoulder, using him for leverage, driving deeper, harder, angle changing until every thrust nailed that spot inside that made him jolt, sob, clench around me.
Spit flew from my mouth, landing on the back of his neck, mixing with the sweat there.
My tongue followed, licking a stripe up his spine, biting at the nape, claiming him, marking him.
I let go of his cock, digging my nails into the meat of his ass, spreading him even wider, watching my cock disappear into him, slick and shining, the rim clutching every time I pulled back.
The room spun around us, nothing but the sound of flesh, breath, curses, the filthy words and desperate sounds of two men gone feral with want. My body tensed, balls drawing tight, the edge crashing over me.
“Gonna fill you up, Richard. Gonna breed you. Gonna come so deep you’ll taste me—fuck—” My hips snapped forward one last time, burying my cock to the hilt. Cum flooded out, hot and thick, pumping into his ass, leaking around the base, dripping down his thighs.
Every muscle locked, chest pressed to his back, face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck. My whole body shook with the force of it, the surrender, the claiming.
The need didn’t fade. If anything, it spiked as I slid out, cum dripping from his hole, smearing down his legs and my cock. I flopped onto my back, chest heaving, arms flung out, ready to be taken apart myself.
Richard twisted around, still trembling, eyes gone wild and dark with hunger. No words needed—he grabbed the lube, slicked his cock with quick, practiced strokes, then poured a cool line between my cheeks, the sensation electric on my over-sensitive skin.
“Your turn,” he growled, voice hoarse, thick with need.
Hands hooked under my knees, folding me open, baring me completely. The tip of his cock found my hole, pressing in slow, deliberate, savoring the stretch, the heat, the slick mess left behind by my own orgasm. My back arched, legs thrown over his shoulders, whole body begging for more.
“Harder,” I snarled, grabbing his ass, dragging him deeper, nails scoring the thick muscle. “Fuck me, Richard. Fill me. Want to feel you come inside. Want to know you’ll be leaking out of me for days.”
He grunted, voice breaking, hips snapping forward, cock driving in, the angle perfect—each thrust hitting that sweet spot, making me see stars, making me sob his name. Sweat poured from both of us, the bed creaking, every motion a demand, a promise, a filthy kind of worship.
My own cock, still hard, bounced between us, leaking fresh slick with every slap of his body into mine. He bent over me, mouth finding mine, tongues sliding together, spit and sweat mingling, every kiss a mark.
I spat into his mouth, let him spit into mine, sharing every drop, never breaking eye contact, never stopping the grind of our bodies. His hand wrapped around my cock, stroking hard, milking another pulse of precome, matching the rhythm of his hips.
The world narrowed to heat, to the flex and drive of his body, to the desperate sound of his breath in my ear. His thrusts turned erratic, cock swelling inside me, every muscle straining, sweat dripping onto my chest.
“Gonna come,” he gasped, voice shattered. “Gonna fill you, Derek, fuck, take it—”
I squeezed around him, pulling him deeper, owning every last thrust. His cock throbbed, thick spurts of cum spilling into me, the heat flooding my guts, mixing with the mess he’d already left inside.
Richard collapsed on top of me, bodies fused together by sweat and seed, hearts pounding in the aftermath.
In that tangled, filthy wreckage, I felt utterly claimed—and knew I’d never want anything less.
Sheets twisted around our legs, sweat cooling on skin, the world still spinning in the aftermath.
Richard’s breathing slowed beside me, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
My own heartbeat felt out of sync, everything raw and exposed.
For a while, neither of us spoke, both just staring at the ceiling, letting silence fill the space where heat and noise had lived only minutes before.
A shaky laugh escaped me. “Jesus. What the hell did we just do?”
Richard let out a low, tired sound—something between a chuckle and a sigh. “I think we both know what happened.”
“That’s not what I meant.” My voice sounded rough, even to my own ears.
A beat passed. He propped himself up on one elbow, face softer now, eyes catching the early light leaking through the blinds. “You okay?”
My hand raked through my hair, searching for some kind of order. “Yeah. Just… it’s a lot. Complicated.”
Richard rolled onto his back, one arm folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling again. “Life usually is. Don’t read into it more than you have to. We’re not kids. Sometimes you just need something real. Even if it’s not forever.”
A lump caught in my throat, but I nodded. “You’re not going to make this weird?”
A lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t even know how.”
I hesitated, then blurted the question that had been clawing at me since the moment his hands were on my body. “What about Miles? I mean, if I… if I wanted to try things with him, would you—”
Richard cut me off gently, voice steady. “You’re asking if I’d mind?”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Yeah. He’s your son. I—hell, I don’t know what I’m asking. Just—if I wanted to… be patient, see where it goes. Would you be okay with that?”
A warmth flickered behind his eyes, not quite amusement, more like relief. “Derek, I’ve seen how you look at him. And I see the way he tries not to look at you. The only advice I’ll give? Take your time. Don’t push. He’s tougher than he looks, but he’s had enough people let him down.”
Something in my chest loosened. “So that’s a yes?”
“That’s a ‘don’t fuck it up, and don’t break his heart.’” Richard’s tone was light, but I heard the warning in it, the fierce love of a father who’d gone through too much already.
The edge of awkwardness settled again, a comfort in its own way. No promises, no strings, just two men caught up in something neither had planned. I sat up, gathering the sheets around my waist, suddenly shy despite everything.
Richard swung his legs off the bed, reaching for his clothes with practiced ease. “Well. I should probably go. Pretend this never happened, or at least don’t tell Sasha. She’d never let either of us live it down.”
A snort of laughter escaped me, surprising us both. “You’re right about that.”
He buttoned his flannel, pausing at the door. “Be good to him, Derek. And be good to yourself, too.”
I watched him leave, the door closing with a soft click. For a long moment, I just sat there, caught between regret and something like gratitude. I hadn’t planned on any of this. But for the first time in a long time, the emptiness didn’t feel quite so sharp.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.