“Grace, arch your hips,” Hunter told him, and Grace did, allowing his sweats to be stripped away, but he kept his hands over his mouth, looking at Hunter in mute agony.
Hunter lay over Grace’s body, covering him, their skin skating together deliciously, and Grace moaned again.
Hunter sighed and moved Grace’s hands, taking Grace’s mouth again, rutting up against him as Grace flailed, not sure whether to stroke Hunter’s shoulders or arms or stop the noises he was making or cover his eyes so he could go somewhere else. This was too immediate, too personal, and Grace couldn’t contain it, couldn’t make it stop. God, what was going to happen when Hunter thrust inside him? It was impossible!
“I can’t,” he mumbled. “Gag me. Bind me. Something. It’s too big. In my chest. It’s too big.”
“Sh….” Hunter slowed down, taking his mouth gently, slowly, easing up the pressure of his hips, of his groin. “You don’t need a gag or ropes or handcuffs. You’re going to feel it, baby, and if you get loud, you get loud. My floors are soundproofed, and there’s nobody next door. It’s okay. Make all the noise you want.”
“But—”
Hunter kissed him again, rolling slightly so he could palm Grace’s cock, stroking hard and slow. He wasn’t teasing—Grace knew what the touch would be, where it would be. He sighed and melted, enjoying the predictability of the arousal, the build, the emotional intensity lost for a moment in the pressure and the squeeze. And hard, and again, and hard, and again, and with every touch, Hunter built trust, because he wasn’t going to stop, and Grace could be comfortable that Hunter would take care of him, and Grace would be okay.
Grace started to pant, pulling his feet up, splaying his knees. “I want,” he whispered, shaking with it.
“Then come, Dylan,” Hunter whispered back. “I’m going to fuck you, whether you come now or come later. You don’t lose anything. You won’t miss out. Come if your body feels good. I’m here.”
And Grace couldn’t help it. He came apart, crying out shrilly, body arching, all synapses firing on full. Hunter shifted down as he erupted, catching his eruption in a hot mouth, and Grace moaned at the eroticism of it. When Hunter moved up, his mouth glazed, to kiss Grace again, Grace tasted himself in Hunter’s mouth and realized that, without a doubt, this man knew him. The things Grace so hated about himself, that made him so very sure that no man would ever love him, Hunter understood.
Grace sucked on his tongue frantically, feeling the build of arousal once more.
Hunter kept kissing, scooting them until Grace’s head was on the pillow and his knees were splayed again. With a reach and a heave, Hunter pulled lube and condoms out of the drawer, and Grace thought about that promise Hunter had made, of the two of them, bare skin to bare skin, and suddenly wanted that, wanted it more than words.
But not now. His impulses were all nodding in agreement about this one. It wasn’t even about being virus-free—Josh had drilled safety into Grace’s thick head since they’d started talking about getting laid. It was about letting Hunter know he was serious, that he could do this, he could be a considerate lover who made sure what they were doing was safe and okay.
Hunter slid his condom on and slicked himself up, and then carefully, as if Grace were a virgin, he fingered his opening.
Grace’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he saw stars. His hands splayed out, and he practically came off the bed. “Oh God! Why? Why? Why is that so much better right now?”
Hunter gave a gruff chuckle and slid another finger in. “’Cause you love me.”
Seriously. This was intense. This was terrifying. Why would anybody do this to themselves—
“Oh God!” Hunter spread his fingers again, and again, and the fairy kisses on Grace’s ass were suddenly very adult, very male stretching feelings, and Grace was launching into outer space.
“God, Hunter—now! Now! I need you inside me now because—augh, yes!”
He’d done this before. They’d done this before. Why was it…? Oh God. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t! He pushed against Hunter’s shoulders and chanted, “Please, please, please, more. More. Don’t stop. Oh God.” And his own voice was the biggest surprise of the whole thing.
Hunter kept thrusting, finally seating himself, hard, and Grace lay there, arms and legs wrapped around Hunter so tight he probably couldn’t move, and hummed.
A drop of sweat slid off Hunter’s forehead and hit him in the cheek.
“Grace?” he said, a desperate pitch to his voice. “Baby?”
“You need to fuck me,” Grace said, nodding. “Good. You do that. I’ll lie here and scream.”
Hunter’s chuckle had the edge of hysteria to it. “Sounds like a plan. But first, baby, you’ve got to let go of me. I can’t move.”
Oh. Oh shit. Grace was starting to shake—the fullness of his ass, the height of his arousal, and he couldn’t stop trembling. He closed his eyes and willed all his hamsters to move in the same direction. Slowly, he uncrossed his ankles and placed his feet on either side of Hunter’s thighs on the bed, then unwrapped his arms, digging his fingers into Hunter’s ginormous biceps instead.
“You can go now?” he squeaked. “I think you should—oh yes. Oh yes. Oh fuck yes!”
And Hunter began to fuck in earnest, his cock drilling into Grace’s ass, his hips rocking faster and faster.
Grace was making sounds, loud sounds, without words. He begged, he pleaded, he needed, and Hunter kept fucking him, didn’t let him down. His head was thrown back, his teeth bared, the cords in his neck tight and hard, like this thing they were doing consumed every last fiber of Hunter Rutledge’s being. Grace couldn’t bear it. He had to close his eyes, had to hope that when orgasm pounded him, then receded from him, like a monster wave or an alien invasion, he could find himself when the come washed away.
“Grace!” Hunter begged. “Grace, I need you to—”
He hit Grace’s sweet spot, and Grace screamed. Loud and heedless and painful. His climax hit him like a freight train.
Hunter groaned, burying his face against Grace’s neck while he rutted, his own climax taking him over, making their sex, for this moment, about him.
Grace was rubbing his arms, whispering, “Sh, sh, sh,” into Hunter’s ears before he realized what he was doing.
Oh God. He was comforting. He was caring for a lover after sex. He was exhausted, shaking, his ejaculate drying clammily between them, and he couldn’t think of anything to do besides tell Hunter it was all going to be okay.
He heard his voice begin to wobble, and then it broke. And then Hunter was stroking Grace’s hair back from his face, kissing the dampness under his eyes, and telling Grace, “Sh, sh, sh….”
And Grace went with that, the tears coming hot and fast, because Hunter was right; Grace had been right.
Together, they were going to be okay.
Let the Dance Commence
HUNTER HEARD the pounding on his door and groaned, trying to tune it out. In Hunter’s world, if someone was knocking, they weren’t that much of a threat.
Then he heard Josh’s voice.