Chapter 13 #2
Tate lifted his hand and tentatively touched Pilot's shoulder, feeling the hard muscles. “Wow,” he said, pulling out of the kiss. His hands slid over the rounded flesh. “Your shirt's stuffed with boulders.”
Pilot's laugh was low and throaty and as precious as diamonds. “Let's go back to my hotel. I-I want you, Tate.”
Another wow moment for Tate. His name on Pilot's lips was like honey on biscuits.
“Please,” he muttered. His eyes fluttered closed as Pilot kissed him again.
Tate wanted their naked bodies pressed against each other.
“Uh...I, uh, I bottom,” he choked out. Pilot had him feeling nervous like some young, inexperienced kid.
“Good.” Pilot guided him out of the pit area.
Tate barely remembered the drive to the hotel, but thanked God it didn’t take long.
Once inside the room, Pilot's hands became wild, out of control.
They were up and down his back, in his hair, grabbing his ass, and pulling off the rest of his gear.
They fumbled at the strap and buckle of his pants, but Tate helped him and in record time he was standing there in his jock strap.
Pilot yanked his shirt off, over his head and Tate was surprised he hadn't ripped it in his haste, but didn't care as long as it was off.
Pilot's lack of shirt also revealed the top of his gun holster.
Pants and gun came off almost simultaneously.
Tate had never thought much about weapons, but everything about Pilot was hyper-sexy including the firearm.
Pilot stopped to secure it in his suitcase, tucking the luggage in the small closet.
“Can't be too careful,” he muttered. Again, Tate didn't care as long as the man continued with the de-clothing process.
Tate sat on the edge of the bed and trembled as Pilot stalked across the room toward him like some kind of muscular jungle cat.
The man was more than bulk, he was coordinated, graceful.
Tate grabbed his crotch, squeezing his dick, trying to get a grip.
He was so hard. He couldn't remember ever being this turned on.
Not with Donny, even when they'd first met, and not with anyone before or since.
Nope. This super hard cock was for Pilot alone.
“Mine,” the man growled and grabbed Tate around the waist, shoving him farther up the bed.
He had both Tate's jock strap and his own briefs off before Tate could even squirm against the man, and then Pilot was on him.
Their bare chests pressed against each other, hands roaming and exploring each other and hips thrusting desperately.
Tate noticed tattoos in the dim light and ran his fingers across the one on Pilot's chest. “What's this?”
“My bird.” Indeed, it was an eagle with something clasped in its talons.
“What's he got?”
Pilot snickered and kissed down Tate's neck before finally answering, “A snack.” That was when he bit down on the top of Tate's shoulder.
“Ahh...” Tate groaned and thrust his hips against Pilot. He rubbed his cock against the man's rock-hard thigh.
“I have a few places that would feel better to rub against.”
“Please,” Tate whispered and grabbed at Pilot's triceps. Digging his fingers into the muscles, he tried pulling Pilot closer.
Pilot chuckled and pulled away. “So eager.” He flipped Tate over onto his stomach.
Tate loved how Pilot manhandled him. It was enough to let him swallow all thoughts of that asshole Warren down.
He responded to Pilot by sticking his ass up.
Maybe he was just a slut, but he wasn’t going to live his life hiding just because of one mistake.
He wanted to move on, and he wanted it with Pilot. He wiggled his ass, enticingly.
Pilot was taller and carried heavier muscles.
Tate was lean and strong, tall for the sport at five-nine but not the tallest. Davey was taller.
Still, Pilot had to be over six, maybe even six-three.
Tate worked out all the time, strength as well as cardio, but Pilot's muscles put his to shame.
With Pilot massaging his ass, pulling the cheeks apart, lifting his hips, then finally licking across his taint Tate didn't give a damn about whatever the hell he'd been thinking about.
Pure pleasure ripped through him as that soft tongue circled his hole, and then poked into it.
Tate heard strange noises coming from his own mouth, but didn't even know what they were or how to stop them.
It wasn't often he got rimmed. In fact, he could only remember one time, and he wasn't about to start thinking about that now.
He buried his face into the hotel pillow and shoved his ass up, silently begging for more attention.
“Mmm...” Pilot hummed, continuing with his tongue fucking. Tate hoped it would go on forever, but all too soon, Pilot pulled up. “Tate, damn, I don't have any condoms.”
“Fuck, no!” Tate flipped back to his back. “Pilot?”
“There's a drugstore on the corner...”
For a moment neither of them even breathed. “Why didn't we stop on the way here?”
“Wasn't planning to...you know.”
Tate groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “Wasn't planning? What the hell did ya bring me here for?”
“I thought we'd, you know. Rub off or blow jobs or whatever, but not—”
“I need more than that now. Jesus Christ!”
“Hey, don't say that.”
“Say what?”
“Jesus Christ. I don't like that.”
“Well, then...fucking Easter Bunny. Go get the damn condoms and lube if you need that too.” He threw the pillow at Pilot, who caught it easily enough.
“Don't you fucking move, Tate.” He dropped the pillow to the floor and grabbed his jeans, yanking them on commando.
Tate held up his hands. He couldn't even believe this.
Pilot's tongue had been in his ass just three seconds ago and now this.
He was a bit pissed off and if he weren't so fucking horny, he would have told Pilot to take him home.
He watched Pilot's ass, snug jeans that were practically bursting at the seams running down his muscular thighs.
Pilot had Tate wanting him like nobody else every had. Nope. Not going anywhere.
Pilot couldn't believe it. He felt like the biggest dick in the world. He had a naked Supercross star in his bed. Well, the hotel's bed, but still...and he had to leave to go get condoms. Fucking crap!
He really hadn't planned to go that far, but he couldn't resist. Tate was all long, lean muscle with not an ounce of fat on him.
When he'd had his hands on that body, he'd literally stopped thinking.
Tate didn't have much hair, just a thin blond happy trail from his belly button, leading down to golden blond hair, trimmed neatly around his long cock. His mushroom head was purple on top of a reddish-pink shaft. He had every intention of sucking Tate until he screamed Pilot’s name.
Then his body wanted something else. He kept hearing Tate stuttering out that he bottomed and Pilot needed to get his hands on that ass.
Tate looked good in his riding gear but even better out of it.
When Pilot had that ass in his hands, he needed to taste.
When his tongue plunged into Tate's hole and he pushed back, Pilot knew he had to fuck.
He wanted Tate and would do anything to get him.
Including leaving him in his hotel room with his loaded gun stashed in the closet.
He hurried, hoping Tate would be trustworthy enough not to mess with it.
Damn! Pilot had lost his mind. Maybe it had just been way too long since he’d been laid.
He bought two packs of condoms and a bottle of lube and raced back to the hotel. He stabbed the key card into the slot and jerked the door open. Tate was still naked, still on the bed, but his erection had deflated. Well, Pilot's had too, but he figured they'd get them back up in no time.
Pilot emptied the bag onto the bed beside Tate's stretched out legs. Damn! They went on forever. Pilot's hands followed his eyes from Tate’s ankles, up his shapely calves, and over his lean thighs. His legs were lightly covered with golden hair. “Fucking gorgeous!”
Tate huffed. “Easter Bunny! Took you long enough.”
The kid was ridiculous. “How old are you anyway?”
“Shouldn't you have asked that earlier?”
“Huh, shows what you know.” Realizing how bad that sounded he quickly added, “Tyler promised me you were legal.”
“Yeah, just. I'm twenty one.” He sat up in the bed, leaning closer. Pilot noticed Tate had his own tattoo.
“What's yours, huh?” He pointed at the marks on Tate's upper arm.
“Oh, for the championship I won at the 250 level. Can't wait to get another one.”
“Tattoo or championship?”
“Yep! Hey. You have another one, too.”
Pilot flexed his arm, showing off. The tattoo was a black and gold star with U.S. Army written under it. He'd gotten it between signing his papers and heading off to basic.
“You were in the Army?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. Is that where you picked up your nifty nickname?” Tate tucked his hands behind his head, elbows out, and leaned back down on the pillow stack he'd created. His blond ruffled hair smooshed out across the linen.
Pilot crinkled his nose and dropped his pants, toeing off his sneakers.
He wanted more touching and less talking.
He grabbed Tate's ankle and dragged him down the bed, just because he could.
He loved the way Tate squealed. He planted his knees on the bed, straddling Tate's chest, knowing his cock was almost in Tate's face. “Take a hint, race-boy.”
“Easter Bunny, Pilot! You have no finesse!”
Pilot plunged his hands into Tate's shaggy hair, gripping hard and tugging his head back. He watched Tate's throat work as he swallowed. He opened his eyes and Pilot could see the black eating up all that seafoam. “Think you're funny? Huh?”