This. Burning and pulling, but a good pain, a working pain, not empty now.
Brian grunted, eased back a little, pushed forward. “Am I doing this wrong?”
“Nope. Keep going. Ah!” His ass suddenly gave in that last notch and let Brian sink deep. They both gasped as Brian filled him. “Yeah. That.”
Sweat ran into his eyes as Brian flexed, pulled back, shoved forward. He braced himself against the weight and the motion. Brian was big and heavy and felt huge inside him and it still wasn’t enough.
“Harder.” He wanted all of that, all of this man, on and in him, wrapped around him. He wanted to be taken and used, to be useful, needed, wanted, owned. Each drag over his rim, each push deep inside, took him out of himself and into a world where he was just flesh and need, heat and space for Brian to fill. His brain turned off, and his vision sparkled red and bright against the black. He suddenly remembered to move his hand on his dick. That sliding pressure as Brian fucked him was almost enough. Almost. Almost.
Brian suddenly pulled all the way out. Nick covered a whimper with a bark of “What the fuck?”
“More lube.”
Nick held still, the click and sounds of moist gloppy friction almost lost in the roar of blood in his ears. Then Brian grabbed his hips again and pushed back inside him, sliding deep, all the way in. Nick arched his back. “Jesus! Yeah. Go.”
Brian began fucking hard but steady. A slow pull out, fast thrust in, slow, slow pull, fast thrust, slooooow…
“Quit playing!” He braced his elbow better and began jerking himself.
Without warning, Brian dug harsh fingers into his hips and slammed into him, fast and rough, then did it over and over and over. Nick grunted the air out of his lungs and struggled to stay upright, his hand locked around himself as he rocked with the force. He was so close it was like hanging fire, riding the edge of the cliff but not falling over it. Ass on fire, dick on fire, balls pulling in tight, but not quite, not quite.
Then Brian slowed down, taking longer strokes. Slower yet. Until he stopped, deep inside Nick.
“Jesus, Brian!” There was far too much whine in Nick’s voice, but he couldn’t help it.
Brian let go of Nick’s hips and leaned forward until his wide front was plastered to Nick’s back. He braced on one hand beside Nick’s and wrapped the other arm under them, across Nick’s chest. From somewhere near Nick’s ear, he whispered, “Shhh. I want to hold you for this part.” Awkwardly, in tiny motions, he began flexing his hips. The push and ebb inside Nick was barely detectable, so far from what he needed that he gritted his teeth against a complaint.
Then, slowly, the heat built again. Not that grinding, throbbing force, but a warmth that rose in his groin and ass, and spread, wonderful and irritating. Brian’s arm was like iron, holding him still. Brian’s cock controlled him, in little rubbing motions that stretched his rim and sparked over and over across his prostate. He wanted to swear and he wanted to push back and found himself unable to do anything but breathe and whine and whimper. Heat built, unfamiliar, centered deep in him, flooding every inch of his body until Brian said, “I love this. Love you,” and shoved a fraction harder.
Nick slid his fingers up his dick and white oblivion flashed through him. He came, hard as he ever had, in thick jolts and nerve-crackling tremors and wordless groans. Dimly he heard Brian saying, “Yeah. Oh, yeah. Mm. Ah,” and then, “Fuck. Fuck!” and he’d have laughed if his nerve-blind body could’ve managed it. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and rode out the aftershocks until their arms gave out, dropping them in a sweaty, sticky, gasping heap.
It was hard to breathe with Brian’s weight smooshing him flat, but he couldn’t manage to care. Every molecule of him was limp and soaked in satisfaction. After a moment, Brian rolled off him, pulling free a bit too fast. Nick hid his flinch. It was a tiny pinch against a sea of endorphins.
“Wow.” Brian chuckled. “Now I know why you like topping.”
“I like this too,” Nick muttered to the pillow, his eyes still closed. “I made you say ‘fuck.’ Twice.”
Brian nudged his ribs. “I made me say ‘fuck.’”
“Bit of both?”
“Sure.”
Nick flopped over toward Brian, who pulled his noodle-boneless body into a hug. Without opening his eyes, he burrowed his face into his favorite spot, where Brian’s wide shoulder met the tender skin of his neck. The smell of sweat and sex was the best cologne in the world. He thought maybe he could sleep, except he was too sticky and yeah, he’d have to get up soon. Shortly. He shoved his face in harder against Brian’s skin.
Brian brushed Nick’s hair with gentle fingers, then cupped the back of his head. “Life’s not as real when you’re not here. It’s like you turn the colors up to eleven.”
He let that sink in to where he’d needed to hear it. “It’ll feel real tomorrow when we try to find a rental with almost no income between us.”
The rub in his hair became a sharp tug. “Let me enjoy tonight.”
He almost dumped all his other worries into Brian’s listening ears, but screw that. Brian was right. He felt too good. He’d waited too long for this. He rolled his head and met Brian’s warm gaze. “Let me clean up a bit, and I’ll make damned sure you enjoy tonight a few more times.”
Chapter 4
Brian turned away from the little rental house and gave the latest landlord a weak smile over his shoulder as Nick pulled him aside. Nick hadn’t been kidding when he said they’d look for housing immediately. This was address number four on Nick’s list.
The owner hiked his pants, and bent to pull one of the thousand weeds lining the long driveway, acting bored but chewing tobacco as if he wanted to grind it into submission. Brian had a feeling he was torn between needing the money and not wanting to rent to northern city slickers, even though they’d been careful not to give off any gay vibes as they looked the place over. Money seemed to be winning out, though.
Nick murmured, “What do you think? Could you live with this one?”
Brian could’ve lived with any of the places they’d checked out. This one was almost a shack, run down and not clean. The roofline was lopsided, and it was basically a box with windows. But it was surrounded by open woods and fields, there was no sign of water damage on the ceilings, and no weird smells rose from the drains. “Sure. Can we afford it?”
Nick raised his voice. “Mr. Edwards, what was the deal? Three months cash in advance?”
“Yep,” the landlord said, sounding more eager. “Eight hundred a month, plus the pet deposit. If you do the move-in cleaning, I’ll take a hundred dollars off up front.”
“Right.” Nick rubbed his forehead.
Brian kept his voice low. “How much is that? Can we afford it?” He hated being dependent again, but he hadn’t had time to save any new money yet. He had the old money in his Minnesota bank account from Finding a wanted criminal, but there was no safe way to withdraw it. He’d changed his last name for a reason. He had nightmares of being tracked down by Turov’s men, of grabbing hands and gunshots and blood, and Damon had said to leave that money be.
Before Nick could answer, Charlie came around the side of the house. He wandered up beside Nick and nudged him, voice low. “It’s not going to fall over in the first wind, and if the septic tank’s leaking, it’s not obvious. You’ve looked at worse.”