Chapter 6 #2
His mouth finally found its actual target and fuck me the man kissed real nice.
His lips were soft, and he tasted…sugary and a little fruity.
And while he was eager, he wasn’t at all aggressive.
Nor did they end up sticking to one another like Velcro, because while he still needed a shave, Ronnie was fastidiously clean chinned.
Fuck! Seemed he’d genuinely missed the old lip locking stuff, because it was lighting sparklers in his chest and doing a number on his dick. Then again, that kind of was the purpose of making out.
And they were doing tongues. Okay, fine.
He was cool with that. Didn’t mind how Ronnie was leaning against him either, occupying the space between Paul’s hips and pinning him so that the tree bark scratched his back.
Ronnie’s hand remained wedged between them too, his thumb making subtle, teasing stroking motions against his thickening shaft.
Okay, he took back all his previous thoughts about Ronnie’s lack of sexual nous. The guy clearly knew what he was about. Almost irritatingly so, because he was doing just enough to make Paul hard, but not enough that it was satisfying.
“Open my fly, you fucking tease.”
“Ah, dunno.” Ronnie said with a clack of his tongue.
He rolled sideways so that his back hit the tree trunk, but his head turned so that he was still looking at Paul slumped against the tree beside him, with a hump distorting the front of his jeans.
“Why don’t you do it, and show me what you’ve got?
I feel this is something I need to see before we get to the touching part. ”
Paul grumbled but complied. What was it with folks always insisting he did the honours himself?
Did they think his trouser snake had fangs or something?
Once in a while, it’d be nice if they were eager enough to be super handsy with him, rip his shirt off, wrench that zip down, not do the whole bug-eyed thing and the gulp when they got a glimpse of his cock, with or without his jewellery.
It wasn’t like it reached to his armpits or anything.
It was a standard…slightly above average…
sized cock for a man of his proportions.
Yeah, okay, maybe it was the length of his forearm when it was erect, but it’s not like it was anything near the same girth.
He shucked his jeans and underwear down to his thighs. As he was still wearing the babydoll T-shirt from that morning that left nothing to the imagination, the moonlight twinkled in the silver of his piercings.
Ronnie did his best not to wig out, but wound up doing a tree-frog impersonation, nonetheless, all eyes and tongue. “My God, that thing’s huge. And how many barbells? I was expecting like three not…”
“Nine,” he said saving Ronnie the effort of counting. “Ten if you count the Prince Albert.”
“Damn! I don’t know if I’m turned on or about to piss myself.
” He’d already crossed his legs. As Paul watched him, he swiped a hand across his eyes, proving they were watering.
“I didn’t think it’d look… be… so compelling, but it’s not just aesthetically pleasing, there’s something hardcore sexy going on too. ”
“It…I’d appreciate some hardcore action.”
The remark passed Ronnie by. He was still laser focused on drinking down the vision of flesh and metal.
“What does it feel like?”
Paul crooked a finger. “Why not take hold and tell me?”
Instead, Ronnie sucked a jelly ring off his thumb. He reached out but stopped shy of making contact. Glee dug dimples into his cheeks.
“You’re not gonna bug out on me, right?” Paul asked.
“Nah. I was just thinking it’s a good job I’ve got a big gob.
” His grin stretched wide again, this time painting stars in his inky pupils as it spread.
And then there was contact. His hand closed around Paul’s shaft an inch or so up from the base.
He gave the whole length a tentative upwards and hopelessly back-to-front stroke that ended with his palm sliding over the crown so that the friction caused the Prince Albert piercing to shift.
A shiver of bliss rolled right through him, so that he drew his next breath through his teeth. Goddamn, yeah. The piercings weren’t just for show. They did wonders for his sensitivity.
Ronnie repeated the motion, which soon had him weeping pearlescent tears from his slit. Fascinated, Ronnie caught them on his fingertips, then brought those digits to his mouth. His tongue peeped out, pink and moist as he tasted first his thumb then his index finger. The sight made Paul groan.
“I think I’ve found a toy I could play with for hours.”
He did not have the fucking patience for that.
The only way he tolerated any sort of lengthy teasing was by being restrained.
Paul pushed away from the tree, made a sharp turn, and smashed Ronnie up against the trunk.
Enough with the getting to know you bollocks.
If they were doing this, they were doing it now.
He went all in on grinding them together at hip level while a kiss battle commenced.
Not that they properly aligned. He had half a foot on Ronnie, and the guy was slight where he was corded with slabs of muscle.
Didn’t matter. He was used to having to perform contortions, most women were shorter still, and the pressure was right.
The feelings prickling through his chest and swirling through his groin, too.
He’d left it too long since he’d last got intimate with someone, that was clear, because he was ready to hammer nails, and his balls started lifting, ready to fire within minutes.
And that wasn’t because Ronnie’s wrist action was that spectacular.
Probably…
Still, it was a relief of sorts when Ronnie decided he was serious about the oral thing and dropped to his knees. Much more of what he’d been doing, and it’d have been fifty-fifty over whether Paul spilled in his fist or jacked Ronnie off the floor and got intimate with his lily-white arse.
Ronnie was making much of the chance to explore Paul’s piercings. He kept tracing the skin between and around them with his lips and tongue.
Paul braced a hand against the tree, then wrapped the other around the back of Ronnie’s head. “Please, Bushie.”
Ronnie surrounded his crown in sweet, wet heat.
He’d had many a blowjob in his life. Some furtive, some indulgent, some worthy of celebrating, others best forgotten.
Xane had been memorable. He’d never deny that, but skill wasn’t everything.
It’d been about mechanics not emotions. The same ought to have been true now, only there was something about this that was doing an absolute number on him on a visceral level.
It didn’t make sense.
Probably something to do with the apples in the craft ciders he’d been pouring down his throat.
It certainly wasn’t because he was catching feelings for the man on his knees sucking him like it was his purpose in life.
Fuck, but that was good.
Needed to cool it though, or it was going to be over too fast.
That was the thing, when it was good, you wanted to fucking savour it, and savour it…
Simultaneously, he couldn’t bear to slow things down.
Not when Ronnie was curling his tongue so that it whipped the flat of his crown, not when all the knots in his brain and in his shoulders were finally unravelling.
Gawd, yes! Right there. Like that. Exactly fucking like that.
Should have realised his professed talent was real. Ronnie couldn’t lie to save his life. He was brutally honest and lacked any sort of filter. If anything, he tended to underplay his talents, rather than hyping them up.
“Fucking hell, man…”
While he might not want this to be over in a flash, pretty soon there’d be no holding it back short of having some kind of medieval torture device clamped around his bollocks.
“Gonna come,” he huffed, easing his grip on Ronnie’s head, in case he didn’t want a mouthful of baby fluid.
Insane bugger only went and upped the ante. Seemed he was eager to sup down every drop.
“You don’t have to,” he grunted.
There was still no let-up, meanwhile he was losing the ability to think coherently, let alone compose or voice sentences.
Ronnie clamped his hand around his arse, digging his fingers into Paul’s flanks and using the leverage to take him deeper.
He couldn’t take him all. He bottomed out at the back of Ronnie’s throat with inches to spare, but it was enough.
More than enough. The main source of joy was concentrated around the head, anyway.
His ears were buzzing. His head was buzzing.
Every goddamned nerve cell in his body lit up with pleasure.
Then there it was. No stopping it. The pinpoint of time when everything was just perfect and simultaneously too damned much.
His balls emptied, and Ronnie, bless his sugar heart, sucked down every damn drop like it was fucking nectar.
Of course, when the high was that high, the come down was a bummer.
The chill of the night air painted his flesh with goosebumps.
Wind rustled the trees and made his ears cold.
He rubbed his scalp, wishing the spikes he’d sported for years were still there.
Then, of course, there was the cold of his cock slipping free of the hot cavern of Ronnie’s mouth.
He ought to say something, he just wasn’t sure what. Thanks, kinda didn’t cut it.
Ronnie gazed up at him, still on his knees. He hadn’t even unzipped, but he was slack-jawed and dazed looking. The amber of his eyes almost coppery in the filtered moonlight.
“Need to take it out and show me?” Oh, God, what was he saying? Engage brain. Engage brain. Reboot. Reboot.
“You said no tit for tat.”
“Never said owt about sucking you. Only asked if you wanted to show me it.”
Someone silence him with gaffer tape.