47. Chapter 47 #3
Colt flattened his tongue and licked him up to the shell of his ear. “Sounds like a challenge.”
Fuck if that didn't send heat straight down Beau's spine. He should shut this down. Should take control back, throw Colt onto the bed, make him—
Colt ground down on his thigh, and Beau's thoughts scattered like buckshot.
His hands flexed against the leather with the urge to touch, but Colt would deny himself just to spite Beau if he didn’t listen. So he’d be patient—let Colt touch his fill, and pay him back tenfold later.
Never had Colt done anything by halves, and he didn’t here either.
He kissed and touched and rutted against Beau’s thigh, hands on Beau’s chest, his sides, his soft cock.
It didn’t matter to Colt. He kept going, licking and sucking every inch of skin, rubbing his nose and cheeks against Beau’s chest hair, dropping to his knees and biting down on the squish of Beau’s stomach.
“You’re gorgeous,” Colt moaned against Beau’s happy trail, kneading next to his own face and shoving his tongue into Beau’s bellybutton. “I wanna rub myself all over this until I’m dripping down your skin.”
Beau groaned, his hips shifting as arousal flooded him. “Filthy. You filthy, perfect little thing.”
“Yeah,” Colt agreed, nipping Beau’s stomach one more time before moving down.
He avoided the area between Beau’s legs, moved to his foot and kissed up the arch of it, pressed his face into Beau’s calf and found the constellation of perfectly round scars from the metal cage they’d used to keep his leg stabilized after his accident.
Each one got a kiss, a lick, until Colt had moved to the outside of Beau’s knee and found the tail end of the jagged mess of scar tissue.
Partners avoided Beau’s scars. Especially this one. It was ugly, a roadmap of pain and surgery and emergency procedures. It wasn’t nice, and it made the men he’d been with uncomfortable. Even Paul, who he’d dated for eight months.
Colt’s hands joined his mouth and ran up the length of it.
He fit his tongue into every dip, every pit, not one second of hesitation, like Beau’s biggest flaw was just as worthy as the rest of him.
Beau’s chest was rising with short, shallow inhales, and he couldn’t look away as Colt continued on, kept one hand on Beau’s scar and kissed his way to the inside of his thigh.
“Can I fuck your thighs, Beau?” Colt rasped into thin, sensitive skin. “Not today, but—fuck. I love your thighs. So thick and strong. I wanna make a mess of them.”
“Christ.” Beau ran his hand down his chin.
This wasn’t touching. This was something else. Like reverence. Like Beau’s body was the altar Colt worshiped at.
Completely unbothered by the lack of answer, Colt shifted to the junction between Beau’s thigh and groin and took a deep, heavy breath. He moaned, and Beau’s cock swelled against Colt’s drying curls.
“There you are,” Colt murmured, sucking the skin under his mouth and palming Beau’s balls. Beau’s hips rutted forward, and Colt chuckled. “Knew you had it in you.”
Opening his mouth, Colt licked the seam of Beau’s sac before taking one of his balls into his mouth, getting it wet with drool, and moving to the next. Then he came back to kiss the sensitive skin behind them, pressed his tongue up and swirled until Beau was rocking shallowly against his mouth.
“Shit,” Beau husked as Colt moved on to lick, wet and sloppy, up Beau’s shaft before lapping up the moisture at his tip. “Colt. Colt, please—”
Wide, green eyes met his, and Colt’s mouth stretched into a feral grin.
He kissed Beau’s inner thigh one more time before climbing back into his lap, straddling him and stealing what little air Beau had left with a kiss that tasted like Beau’s skin.
Colt shifted his hips until his shaft was alongside Beau’s and rolled forward, moaning into Beau’s open mouth.
“Good boy,” Beau groaned, peeling his hands off the armchair and digging his fingers into the tops of Colt’s thighs. “Just like that. Show me. Show me what you need.”
Colt’s hips stuttered once before he sucked Beau’s bottom lip between his teeth and rutted harder. “Touch me. Please. Please touch me—I can’t—”
Beau grabbed Colt’s ass with both hands and pulled. “Harder.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Colt wrapped his hand around them both and rolled his hips, sharp and desperate. “You feel so good. I want you to fuck me. I want—but I’m—”
Too close, probably, and Beau was too, but the thought of fucking Colt to within an inch of his life had Beau shoving Colt back just enough to spit on their joined cocks to ease the slide.
He wrapped his hand around Colt’s and rocked his hips up, rutting into their hands, sliding along the wet skin of Colt’s length.
“Mine,” Beau growled into Colt’s throat as he thumbed Colt’s slit. “Say it, Colt. Tell me you’re mine.”
“Yours.” Colt tipped his head back and half-sobbed, half-moaned, flushed and beautiful and Beau’s. “I’m yours, baby. Please. I’m so close. I need—”
“I know what you need.” Beau worked faster, far past desperation himself. “You're such a good boy for me. So pretty and slutty and perfect.”
Colt's movements turned erratic, sweat dripping down between his pecs. He moved his hand out from under Beau's so he could hold himself steady using Beau's shoulders. “I'm close, so fucking close, Beau, please—I wanna come on you please, please, please—”
“That's it. Just like that.” Beau leaned forward and bit down on Colt’s shoulder. “Good boy. My good boy, fuck. Come for me, Colt. Right now.”
Like he'd flipped a switch, Colt shouted as he spilled himself over Beau's fist, cum hitting Beau's chest and chin. The slick heat on his skin—the way Colt was still rutting against him, dragging his spent cock through his own mess—pushed Beau over the edge. He buried his face in Colt’s neck and groaned into his skin as he found his release.
“Holy shit.” Colt's voice was shaky, his thighs quivering on Beau’s hips. He collapsed onto Beau’s chest and buried his nose in Beau’s neck. “Beau. Oh my God.”
“Mhmm.” Beau ran his fingers through the damp hair at the back of Colt’s head, boneless.
Colt pressed tiny, soft kisses to Beau’s throat and jaw. “Did I—” His voice was small, hesitant in a way Beau rarely heard. “Was I good?”
Beau chuckled. “What's that you said the other day?” Smiling into Colt’s curls, Beau lowered his voice. “I think I saw God.”
Laugh muffled in Beau’s neck, Colt wiggled closer, entirely uncaring about the sticky mess between them. “Care to see her again?”
“Insatiable.” He kissed Colt’s hair. “I might die, you know. I'm old.”
“Oh, shut up.” Colt yawned. “Young enough to wear me out.”
“Let me get you clean and we can go to bed, hm?” There was cum drying in Beau’s chest hair, and it was starting to itch. He couldn't imagine how Colt was feeling with his throat raw and buried in all the mess like he was.
“‘Kay.”
***
They showered again, and Colt let Beau clean him from head to toe under the hot spray.
His calloused hands felt good on Colt's skin, gentle and thorough.
Beau dried him off with a towel he'd stuck in the warmer before they'd hopped in.
Then he dressed him in more of Beau's clothes and slipped on a pair of his own sweatpants before opening the bedroom door a crack in case Toast had forgiven them for all the yelling and wanted to come in.
Colt was already wrapped in Beau’s sheets by the time he was turning out the lights.
Snuggled down with the comforter pulled up over his shoulders, watching Beau without trying to hide it at all.
He liked the way Beau’s back muscles shifted when he bent to pick up a sock, the way his ass looked in those sweats.
The second Beau was under the covers, Colt was wiggling closer until he was pasted against Beau’s side, head on his chest. “You're comfy.”
Beau pulled him in. “You're a furnace.”
The door creaked open, and Colt smiled against Beau’s pec as Toast padded into the room. “We're off his shit list. That was fast.”
“Mhmm.”
Toast hopped up into the bed, his weight shifting the mattress, and came to sniff Colt’s face. He sneezed, drips of cat snot spraying Colt’s cheeks, and Colt gasped. “Ew! Aw, Toast, that was rude.”
“Guess you're still on his shit list.” The cat walked right over Colt and curled against Beau’s other side, purring.
“Smug bastard,” Colt grumbled. He popped his head up to look at Toast, who was glaring at him. “You're supposed to like me more.”
“How's it feel to be the least favorite?” Beau ran his hand down Colt's back. “Cat always knows who feeds him.”
“He better watch it, or I won't bring him the leash and harness I got him.”
“You did not.” Beau moved so he could look down at Colt, whose smirk was all mischief. “You did! He's not a dog.”
Colt laughed. “Big as one. I think he'd like to go exploring. He's a curious boy.”
“You're projecting,” Beau grumbled, but his fingers were running down Colt’s spine and he was loose-limbed and relaxed. Win. “What color is it?”
“Dark green.” Colt patted the comforter. “To match your aesthetic.”
Quiet settled around them, nothing but the sound of Toast purring and Beau's heartbeat under his ear. Colt lazily traced patterns in Beau's chest hair—which he was allowed to do. Finally.
“You mentioned your Karting before,” Beau rumbled as he rubbed the heel of his palm into Colt's lower back. “But…”
“But not the trophies? The Legend Cars?” Colt ran his finger up Beau's happy trail to his stomach, which he might be developing a kink for. He pressed his palm into the hard muscle under the layer of fat. “I'm sorry. I just—”
“Don't need to be sorry. And you don't need to tell me either.” Beau kissed his hair. “But I'd like to know, if you're willing.”
Considering Colt had thrown Beau’s past in his face multiple times by now, Colt figured he owed him. Even if he didn't, there was something about Beau’s steady presence that made Colt want to tell him everything.