9. Nick #2
But my body doesn’t seem to get the memo. My body is a gluttonous, traitorous thing. And when the next rolling wave presses all of his front against all of my back, it knocks my objections overboard.
The metal bars of the ladder dig into my chest, and his weight pushes all the air from my lungs. He’s hard everywhere I’m hard. He needs me in every way I need him. Filthy, primal, urgent.
We’re both dirty and sweaty. It’s been weeks since either one of us has shaved. His beard chafes my neck raw when his teeth latch onto me. His tongue presses against my pulse, licking the sweat and musk and tacky ocean salt off my skin.
Maybe I’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so into it. But apart from the vibration of the engine, there are smaller, more intimate vibrations traveling down the cords of my throat and settling in my chest. Where my heart registers them as groans.
I need to feel more of him.
I face Seth, wrestling him out of both shirt layers, stretching the neck holes around the backs of my hands to keep them from snagging on his muffs. My sweater and undershirt go seconds after, his hands spreading over every inch of my torso once he drapes our wad of clothing over the ladder rung.
The light strips reflect off the surface of his eyes, off the sheen of his skin. And suddenly I feel like the vulnerable one.
He leans in, letting me feel the words I can’t hear as they brush my lips. I want you, Nicky.
I grab a fistful of his hair and crush our mouths together. Beards scraping, beads of sweat rolling down our cheeks to mingle on our lips. A punch of diesel and hot metal perfumes our tongues when they meet, but at the forefront of everything is the taste of Seth. Clear river water and forest air.
My head spins pleasantly from the heat, the same peaceful euphoria as lying inside of a sauna. I’m panting. Chest heaving in an oscillating rhythm with Seth’s. Every breath blocks out more of the mechanical layers and draws in more of him.
He loosens the drawstring of my pants and shoves his hands down the back. Palming my ass thoroughly. One hand bandaged, one blessedly bare, groping both cheeks. Kneading them. Spreading them.
I’ve never been able to read his mind more clearly.
He’s thinking about how his cock would look, pumping in and out of me. He’s thinking about how tight my body would grip him. He’s wondering if the engine is loud enough to drown out the moans of ecstasy I’d make for him when he fills me.
I know exactly what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too.
I kiss him harder, gripping the back of his head and biting his bottom lip with a groan. My teeth rake over plush, smooth flesh as I pull away and bury my face in his neck. Drinking in the scent of the ocean on his skin while, outside, it generates the force that rocks his body into mine.
He tugs my pants and long johns beneath the curve of my ass, then pulls his down, too.
I’m acutely aware of each inch of length and girth throbbing against my cock.
His body is so fucking hard and hot, so many sounds rumbling through his throat, that I half-believe I’m going to wake up from this fantasy any minute.
Deliriously draped over the engine itself.
Fuck, I watch him curse when he wraps one hand around both of us. Pumping with the raw glide of his sweaty palm. His teeth catch his bottom lip on the F, and his lips remain parted with the last three letters.
He dips forward, dribbling a strand of saliva to where our bodies meet, and my head lolls back. Hard. The impact of my skull reverberates through the metal ladder.
My hips buck against his, out of control, while I stare down. Spellbound by the bronzed tan of his skin against the lighter shade of mine, the shine of pre-cum and spit. I wrap my hand around his, admiring our contrast there, too.
Every time my cock pulses, his grip tightens. Tendons flexing beneath my fingertips while we touch and stroke. Clinging to each other so hard, I wonder how I ever thought there would be a chance of tripping. We’re locked together. Inseparable.
I kiss him, and I keep kissing him. Letting him feel my noises, holding his body close to mine as our hips thrust and clash, vying for more friction.
With his bandaged hand, he grabs one glute.
Grinding my body against his with bruising force, then letting that hand dip lower.
Middle finger slipping down my crack until the tip presses against my hole.
Not pushing, not rubbing, just touching.
Teasing the memory of that same finger knuckle deep.
How much more full it would be if his cock breached me.
That image sets like an anchor in muddy seafloor. The more we both move, the deeper it buries.
I want it. I want it so bad, the thought of him fucking me is about to make me come when he lets go of me and spins me back around.
I grab the ladder rails to steady myself and his hands close around the metal right beneath mine. His body slams mine into the bars.
I groan as his cock wedges where his finger was, sliding against my ass.
His teeth latch onto my shoulder, biting down until I can feel his sounds travel from enamel through muscle. He thrusts in harsh, dominating jerks.
I close my eyes and push back against him. Sight, gone. Hearing, muffled to an ambient thrum. Taste and smell half-burned away by the sting of fuel. My senses only know the feeling of his body moving with mine. The feeling of our need, clashing again and again in a violent cross sea.
His hands drop back down to my ass, squeezing my cheeks tighter around his shaft, and I show him the way I want to move with him. The way I want him to take me.
He brings his good hand to my cock and tugs me, rough, with every pump of his hips.
My mouth falls open, gasping at air and still not getting enough. All I’m breathing is heat as our sweat-slicked bodies writhe and rut.
The closer he gets to coming, the more his hand twitches, the more his rhythm falters. His body trembles behind mine with each volatile thrust. And that very loss of control is what finally ends me.
My hands go stark white against the ladder rungs. I can feel the sounds in my throat that don’t make it over the sounds of the engine.
Cum lubricates the glide of Seth’s hand while he keeps jerking me, and it spills down my crack as he finishes. Spurt after spurt of sticky warmth coating both of us.
He rests his forehead between my shoulder blades, stilling, and the movement of the ocean reigns once more. Back and forth. Back and forth.
It’s more of an effort than usual not to stumble as I peel my sweaty fingers off the ladder rails and pull my pants back up. Cum glues my long johns to my ass and my dick, and when I pull my undershirt and sweater back on, sweat glues them to my torso.
I feel disgusting. Wrung dry. Serene.
I turn around to hand Seth his shirts, too. But when I look down, he’s rubbing my cum into his flagging erection. Like he’s saving a memento for later.
He winks at me, his eyes scrolling down my body.
You’re so hot, I think he mouths.
I groan, stealing one last kiss before I force myself to take those first painful steps back up the ladder. Before I do something stupid, like spend the night in the fucking engine room with him.
Cool air chills my skin when we step back into the interior. It’s still far warmer than outside, but the contrast is a shock to my system. Shivers ripple from the base to the top of my spine as I wait for Seth so I can seal the door behind us.
He takes off my earmuffs, then his. Cornering me against the wall as he hangs them up and lets his hands drop to my shoulders. He rubs my arms to warm me, even though I’m sure he’s cold himself.
“Fuck. I could go again.” His lips brush my ear lobe as he leans in to speak to me. “Can’t get enough of you, Nicky.”
This time, I shiver from the sound of his voice. The grit of it alluding to all the groans and grunts I felt but couldn’t hear.
“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around him and press my lips to his sweaty forehead. Once more, letting go of him before I’m ready. “I know the feeling.”