"I want to fuck you." I should have said that more kindly than I had.
Or, if Hollister's immediate lust response was any indication, I'd said that like I was Goldilocks. His bottom lip stuck out, plump, red, and ripe for the taking. There simply wasn't a way to resist kissing him, so I didn't try. I set my drink down—positive I'd only succeeded in dropping it on the carpet—and leapt on top of Hollister. He squeaked, giggling as my lips pressed against his. As we rolled, I kept him plastered to me. My back settled against the mattress, and my head found the pillow. I grabbed two handfuls of his damp wavy hair and tugged his face closer, using the leverage to control every aspect of our kiss.
I loved the way his smile felt on my lips, but it wasn't long before they straightened as his mood sobered into something more passionate. He draped over my chest, whimpering as he writhed against me.
I cupped his face, and he stilled, pulling back to look into my gaze.
"You. Are. Perfection," I whispered, kissing Hollister before he could see just how much I meant what I'd said.
Hollister smiled in return, but it was such a curious-looking smile, I had to know the thought that had caused it.
"What? You can say it. I'm tough. I can handle it."
Hollister threw his head back and laughed. "I was just smiling because I thought about how I could say the same thing for you, but then I remembered you aren't even real. There's no way you can be. Your perfection is at a level that simply isn't possible."
"Not real, eh? Clearly, I need to up my compliment game. That was poetry."
Hollister winked.
I melded my mouth to his, holding him with a hand at his waist and the other at the small of his back. I spun us around, cradling his toweled body beneath me. He blinked rapidly, looking up at me with a look that was two parts desire and a million parts something I couldn't quite name, but knew that it was important. I kissed the very tip of his nose, and Hollister sharply sucked in air between his teeth.
"Put your cock in my mouth, please," he whispered. "I have to taste you." He lay his head flatter against the pillow as he opened his mouth wide to the ceiling.
There was no substitution for clearly stating what you wanted in the bedroom, and I wasted no time in rising to my knees, cradling Hollister's head between my thighs as I fed my dick into his waiting mouth.
His lips wrapped around me with enthusiastic zeal as he bobbed his head. The pillow kept him from getting the leverage he wanted, and he grunted, his eyes narrowing in the cutest expression of irritation.
I pumped my hips, going shallow at first as Hollister raced to catch up with my rhythm. He moaned as his eyelids fluttered. His throat opened, and I slid down his throat, groaning at the way his tongue rolled up and down my shaft. My thrusts were relentless. I should have let up, been gentler with this precious angel. But I believed Hollister would speak up if he wasn't comfortable, and the look he gave me wasn't one that left anything up for interpretation. He was loving this. When my cock filled his throat, his eyes rolled back as his groans deepened. His dick stuck out from his body, the towel having fallen open long ago. A river of precum flowed down his shaft, and I reached back, pumping his length twice.
Hollister squealed his pleasure around my cock. His nostrils flared, working double time to bring in oxygen while his throat was blocked. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes glistened with happy tears. My dick pulsed, spilling precum down his throat. I was too close, and though a condom wasn't negotiable and I wouldn't be able to truly fill his sweet hole, I wanted to be balls-deep in his sweet heat when I came.
I pulled free, needing to actually tug my dick from his mouth. His vacuum-tight lips released my cock with a lewd, wet pop. Hollister moaned out his frustration, silencing when my fingers found his ass. One more packet of lube and I made short work of stretching his hole. When his whimpers turned into squeaks I rose, quickly sheathing my dick before plunging the tip inside of him.
Hollister hissed and panted. He breathed deeply, moaning before he slowly pumped his hips, my sign my boy was ready for more.
As I fed my dick into his tight channel, he clenched the sheet on either side, squeezing tight. His tight channel was as hot and snug as I'd anticipated. I would climax quickly. This round.
"Yes! Oh fucking hell, yes!" he howled, his body opening to receive me.
I sucked his lip into my mouth, bottoming out at the same moment I nipped the soft flesh.
If an earthquake suddenly struck, splitting the ground beneath us, I was positive I'd be able to muscle the sections of earth back together. While buried inside this amazing man, I was stronger than ever. "You're mine," I snarled.
Our bodies collided with sharp smacks, faster and faster. My hips pumped into him. My balls tightened, and my vision sharpened. It was as if I'd been looking at the world through a film that had suddenly been lifted. The air had changed, the scents dividing into pieces of themselves. Instead of being able to smell the cotton towel beneath them, I could smell the detergent used to wash it, the scent of the person who had folded it, and another who had brought it to this room. Rising above it all, a single scent called to me like no other. Hollister's scent.
My dick pulsed, and I came in a sudden, unavoidable wave. I filled the condom, the liquid heat a brief regret in an otherwise perfect moment.
Hollister twitched beneath me. He'd painted both of our bodies with his release. His breath came in huge gasps that he needed a few moments to calm from. He gripped my arms, hands kneading my biceps. "Next, you show me the closet."
***
Hollister collapsed to the mattress, and I pulled his back tight against my chest. I balanced my head in my hand, my elbow propped up against the pillow as we looked out the window. The sky had changed in the time we'd spent together.
We'd filled every second of that time making love, fucking, and doing everything in between. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd held him as he'd climaxed. He liked to cuss when he came, and I found every foul word made me smile that much wider.
But as the dawn rays crept over the mountain, we were both very much spent. I'd fucked Hollister long after he'd been able to push back into me. He'd lain beneath me, nearly exhausted until I told him I'd fuck him like my personal fuck toy. At that, he'd climaxed immediately. Hollister's sexual appetite rivaled my own. He was ready for anything I threw at him, and as the sun brought a new day—and my time in Seattle to a close—I drew him as close as was physically possible, wondering how I was ever supposed to leave him.
"Let me see your hand," Hollister mumbled. "I promised you a palm reading."
Hollister told fortunes, read palms, and practiced tarot, though he claimed it was mostly about reading the room than anything else. He'd shied away from my questions of clarification, but considering that was the only part of him he'd purposefully kept private, I'd decided not to pry. For now.
"I see here you're going to have a long life." Hollister drew a line diagonally across my palm. "And you are a fantastic lover," he continued. He gasped and cocked his head. "And this line here says you really know how to wield a meat sword."
I snorted, loving how Hollister could be silly and serious all at once.
He popped his bottom lip out. "Hm."