“I like nipples,” Michael said sincerely, and then he stepped forward into Carl’s warmth and licked the salt off one with his tongue.
“Harder,” Carl whispered.
Michael suckled it, enjoying the tug of Carl’s fingers in his hair as Carl tilted his head back, enjoying himself.
Oh, this was nice. This was permission to play. Michael moved to the other nipple, suckling while he pinched the still-wet nipple cooling in the air.
Carl let out a sound of arousal—of desire—and pulled away to take Michael’s mouth in his, his hands working Michael’s belt. He shoved at the pants and briefs as soon as he could, and Michael worked hard to keep up the kiss and kick off his cowboy boots, which he’d worn because they were his best dress shoes.
After a moment he stumbled back onto the bed, still struggling with the boots, and Carl grinned at him from a seemingly impossible height, haloed by the light behind his head.
“Here, let me get those,” he said, and Michael leaned back on his elbows, bemused by the sight of it, this amazing golden man sliding Michael’s boots off, palming his calves, then shucking his pants off, seeing Michael in the light.
Oh shit.
Carl straightened and started working on his own belt, jeans, and shoes, and Michael struggled to get under the covers. Carl straightened, naked as the day he was born, and Michael’s desperate attempt to roll himself into a burrito stalled out completely.
He knew his mouth made a little “oooh…” sound, but he couldn’t help it. “God, you’re pretty,” he muttered, tangled in the comforter.
“You are too,” Carl said, frowning. “At least I’m pretty sure you are. What in the hell are you doing?”
Michael covered his eyes. “Can you turn off the lights? I’m… there’s something I don’t want you to see.”
Carl sighed and sat down next to him, capturing his mouth and kissing him softly. About the time Michael’s common sense deserted him, Carl’s hands untangled the comforter, smoothing it down across the bed and leaving him, naked and vulnerable, on top.
He opened his mouth to protest, but Carl kissed him some more, and because he was weak and had no spine, he melted into the pillows like chocolate. When Carl covered his body with his own massive, naked one, Michael almost wept at the feeling of all that hairy male skin-on-skin contact. He wrapped his legs around Carl’s hips again, and their groins rubbed together, erections bobbing and weaving, and Carl didn’t stop the kiss, the marvelous, gorgeous, amazing kiss that destroyed Michael’s brain like a fried electrical system and replaced it with candy floss.
Michael’s movements were getting more urgent, and he couldn’t seem to stop his hips. “Not yet,” he begged, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Shh….” Carl bumped his nose along Michael’s cheek, pausing to whisper in his ear. “Let go. It’s okay. We have all night.” He finished his words by sucking on Michael’s earlobe, and who knew that was a real thing?
Michael’s fingers seemed to clench on Carl’s biceps all on their own, hard enough to hurt, but he couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop his hips, couldn’t stop his cock from—oh God—from rubbing, from bumping….
Carl leaned on one elbow and reached between them, grabbing Michael’s erection in his wide-palmed hand and squeezing from bottom to top, stroking solidly, slowly, his thumb and forefinger tightening around the head.
Michael cried out and came so hard he couldn’t see, his entire body bucking, ejaculate pumping from his cock in what felt like a never-ending stream.
Finally the orgasm subsided, and he fell back limply against the mattress, lost and dazed, not sure if the night was over or what would happen next.
Carl’s mouth on his was a surprise—a good one—and he returned the kisses, small ones this time, teasing, sweet, hints of tongue, of play, not unhappy in the least. Carl slipped away from him after a few of those, scooting down along Michael’s body, pausing to lick his nipples, to suck, and then to move down some more.
A tongue dragged across the puddle on Michael’s abdomen, tasting his come, and then licked down to his cock, which was still hard, still twitching. Gently, seeming mindful that he might be tender, Carl engulfed his erection with his mouth, cleaning him, licking him, sucking him until he was hard and gasping again.
Carl shifted on the bed until he was between Michael’s legs. One hand still stroked his cock, but his mouth, oh God, his mouth was still exploring, His tongue hit that place at the base of Michael’s cock that drove him wild, and then he took first one testicle and then the other gently into his mouth. Michael moaned, eyes closed against the pleasure, his thighs spread as wide as they could go. That feeling of safety, of trust with this man, had never left him, and the doubts, the worries about that one thing he was afraid Carl would see, all of that fled.
He was starting to shake with need again, but he had no words for what he wanted. Penetration had only ever been painful, violent, but he didn’t know where else this could go. When Carl shoved up at his thighs, he was almost relieved. This would hurt, it would be invasive, but finally, finally, he would know what to do, how to quantify the sex act as he knew it.
And then he felt Carl’s tongue dragging along his hole and even that went away. He moaned, unmanned, completely lost as Carl rimmed him, and he lost track of what to do with his hands.
Carl’s voice, muffled, drifted toward him. “Your cock, your nipples, anything that feels good—stroke them!” And Michael grabbed on to that idea and to his cock, taking over from Carl and stroking with one hand while the other hand plucked at his nipple. And Carl’s tongue… oh God.
“Gonna come!” he almost screamed, his entire body flailing about on top of the covers, under the light. Jizz scalded his fist, creaming down his forearm, but that was incidental to the rockets launching through his bloodstream and igniting all his nerve endings, blowing everything he thought he knew about sex out of the water.
When he came to, Carl had scooted up, wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, and thrown his leg around his hips, tangling them together, surrounding Michael with that glorious heat, that beautiful feeling of skin on skin.
Michael’s shoulders were shaking, and he couldn’t quite find his center. He buried his face against that broad chest and realized his cheeks were wet, and Carl’s breath was coming hard and fast.
“I don’t know what’s next,” he confessed, wanting to pleasure Carl like he’d been pleasured but not even sure he could move to get under the covers right now.
“This is good,” Carl whispered, dropping a kiss on his temple.
“But you didn’t…. You haven’t….” Carl’s erection was still there, pulsing against his stomach.
“Later.” Carl tilted his face up and kissed him, and Michael tasted himself, the salty, bitter mess of him, on his lover’s lips. Michael fell into the kiss, the earthiness of it and the feeling of Carl’s big hands drifting along his back, palming his backside, keeping him safe and pleasured and calm.
“Mm….” The kiss faded, and Michael was content just to lie there, being touched, filling up on the tenderness of a man he’d wanted from the very beginning.