Again, that near feral snarl escaped Dimitri’s lips as his hands dropped to Arlo’s ass, dragging him close to grind their cocks together in a way that had them both groaning. “That’s the plan. Now, stand up.”
Arlo lurched to his feet, clinging to Dimitri’s shoulders as he rid him of the rest of his clothes. Once he was naked, Arlo’s nerves took over again. There was nothing more vulnerable than being the only naked person in the room. As impossible as it was, some small niggling part of Arlo whispered that Dimitri was just luring him into a false sense of security. That he wanted him comfortable so he could tear him down.
He pushed the intrusive thought away as Dimitri stood, his hands roaming over Arlo’s now bare ass, his fingers dipping into his crease like he just couldn’t resist. “On the bed. On your stomach.”
Arlo’s mouth was a desert as he crawled onto the bed. Dimitri’s well-worn comforter was cool against his overheated skin. He waited, legs slightly parted, expecting the heavy weight of Dimitri’s body to press him into the mattress, the rough sting of dry fingers pushing into him.
Instead, warm oil drizzled over one foot. Arlo smirked as he saw Dimitri holding a bottle of baby oil. What college student had baby oil? Dimitri. After that, all thought dissolved, leaving only sensation as Dimitri’s powerful hands rubbed and kneaded his way up one of Arlo’s legs and down the other.
If Dimitri was hoping to relax him, it definitely wasn’t working. Arlo didn’t think his dick—trapped between his body and the comforter—had ever been so hard. He was sure he was making a mess of Dimitri’s bed. Arlo’s frustration ratcheted higher with each pass of Dimitri’s hands until it felt like he was toying with Arlo, thumbs skimming so close to his balls that he would hold his breath, only to be disappointed when they instead followed under the curve of his ass.
He didn’t know how much time passed, his body dancing on a knife’s edge of ecstasy and exasperation, but when the bed finally shifted, Dimitri had worked every part of Arlo from his head to his toes until he was just one raw nerve ending, desperate for relief.
Arlo sucked in a breath when Dimitri’s large hands gripped his hips, tugging them up just enough to slide his arms beneath. Before Arlo could ask what he was doing, he spread him open, Dimitri’s soft tongue licking over him from his balls to his hole.
The sound Arlo made was something between a cry and a moan, but Dimitri must have liked it because he buried his face in the heart of him, his tongue doing things that made Arlo’s toes curl and his dick throb.
But it wasn’t enough to fill the emptiness inside him. And now, he couldn’t even rub himself against the mattress. “I’m good. I’m ready,” Arlo promised.
Arlo mourned the loss of Dimitri’s talented tongue, but then teeth nipped playfully at his ass cheek before disappearing. Arlo looked over his shoulder just in time to watch Dimitri strip. He was so fucking beautiful. The living definition of a Greek god.
And he wanted Arlo. Once more, that overwhelming feeling consumed him, but it wasn’t a scary feeling. More like anticipation, the culmination of a crush that started when Arlo was too little to understand just how deeply their connection ran.
When Dimitri kneeled between Arlo’s open thighs, he dropped his head back to the pillow, certain that if he kept watching, he might shoot his load before Dimitri was even inside.
Slick fingers teased between his cheeks, rubbing over his entrance. Arlo canted his hips, hoping Dimitri would get the message. He sucked in a breath as Dimitri pushed all the way inside. His other hand pulled him apart, and when Arlo risked another glance, he realized Dimitri was watching his finger disappear inside him.
Holy fuck. He couldn’t stop himself from rocking back against him, wanting more. Dimitri complied, adding another finger, corkscrewing them inside him in a way that stole Arlo’s breath each time he glanced over his prostate.
Arlo no longer cared about embarrassment. He wanted more, wanted all of it. Needed to feel Dimitri’s cock slamming home. He couldn’t handle the waiting. “Please,” he begged.
The butterflies in his belly turned to bees as Dimitri’s fingers disappeared and he heard foil tearing. Then Dimitri’s body was blanketing over his, his cock settling between his cheeks. Still, he didn’t push in, just lazily rocked his hips, his lips pressing against Arlo’s ear to whisper, “You sure?”
“Yes,” Arlo whispered, frustrated.
Dimitri chuckled, then shifted his weight to one hand, the blunt head of his cock now pressing against Arlo’s entrance. He had only a second to familiarize himself with the sensation, and then Dimitri was pushing past that first tight ring of muscle. Arlo hissed at the familiar burning sting as his body adjusted to the invasion.
Once fully seated, Dimitri peppered kisses along his throat, his jawline, bit along the shell of his ear. But he didn’t move.
“I’m good,” Arlo assured him, wiggling beneath him.
“You sure?” Dimitri asked again.
Arlo scoffed. “I appreciate that you’re attempting to be attentive to my needs, but I really need you to fuck me, Dimitri. Damn.”
Dimitri laughed at Arlo’s tone. His hands then ran along Arlo’s arms, threading their fingers together as he came up on his knees, nudging Arlo’s thighs farther apart, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, making them both groan. “Is that what you need?”
“Fuck. Yes. Please.”
Dimitri’s fingers tightened around his and then he was moving, fucking into Arlo with hard, slow thrusts that had Arlo’s eyes rolling and helpless whimpers falling from his lips each time he drove into him. Dimitri’s mouth was everywhere, kissing and sucking at whatever skin he could reach.
Arlo had never really understood when people said sex was intimate. It had never been that for him but more like a chore, an expectation that came with relationships. Something to endure. But he got it now. Dimitri was inside him, on top of him, his breath panting against Arlo’s ear, his sweat dripping onto his skin, their bodies moving as one cohesive being, and it was the single most erotic experience of Arlo’s life.
He couldn’t get enough. Pleasure shot through him each time the head of Dimitri’s cock glanced that tiny bundle of nerves. Warmth pooled in his belly. He might actually come untouched. The combined sensation of Dimitri moving inside him and the friction of the cover beneath him on his oversensitive cock was driving him mad.
Dimitri’s weight disappeared, though he didn’t pull free. He just sank back on his knees, dragging Arlo’s hips higher, wrapping his hands around Arlo’s narrow waist to drive into him with powerful thrusts that had fireworks exploding behind his eyes. “Oh, fuck. Yes, keep doing that. Please.”
Dimitri grunted, somehow pounding into him harder until Arlo’s toes were curling and he couldn’t stop the breathless cries escaping his lips. He reached beneath him, moaning with relief when he took himself in hand, jerking his aching cock in time with Dimitri’s punishing thrusts. It only took three or four pulls, and then Arlo was crying out, spilling his release onto the comforter below.
Dimitri groaned. “Holy fuck, I can feel you coming. You’re so fucking tight. Jesus,” Dimitri muttered almost to himself. Arlo dropped his head, his fingers curling into the pillows as Dimitri continued to use him, for once finding the experience empowering. He was making Dimitri feel good. Him. Arlo. His body was bringing him pleasure. If he could have grown hard again, he would have.