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Authors: Bailey Bradford
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in place. Rolling it down was sheer torture. Drake was so close to coming.
“Perfect,” Ian said. Before Drake could think up an appropriate response—was he supposed to say thank you or what?—Ian lapped at the tip of his cock.
Drake’s brain was going to freaking melt, just like his insides were trying to do. “Oh, oh, please—Ian,” he tacked on, remembering Ian’s demand. Maybe it’d been a request, but Drake didn’t think so, and it wasn’t a selfish thing to ask. Drake liked saying Ian’s name. He liked the way it made Ian’s pale blue eyes darken as the pupils expanded, the way Ian looked more stern and yet needy at the same time.
And he really liked the way it got him more. Ian suckled his cock in deeper, and even with the condom on, it was an exquisite pleasure that fired up every nerve in Drake’s shaft. He clenched his ass, wishing he had a hard, fat cock in him. That would be perfection, being blown and fucked at the same time.
Then he was rethinking what perfection was, because Ian bobbed down farther and the suction was so intense, Drake felt it down to his core. He tried to spread his legs, but the jeans proved to be frustratingly restrictive. It was almost like he was bound…
Ian came back up his length and promptly went down again. At the same time, he spread Drake’s butt cheeks apart. While he didn’t touch Drake there, the mere act of opening him up like that slammed Drake into orgasm. He yelled and bucked his hips. Ian planted an arm over his belly, forcing Drake down as he pumped his release into the rubber. Being held down only intensified Drake’s climax, so that he was dizzy and breathless, gasping like he’d run half a dozen miles when the last spurt left his cock.
Ian left off sucking him and before Drake knew what was what, he was being kissed. The taste of latex was repulsive, but Ian had tolerated it—somehow. Drake fought the impulse to turn his head, and was rewarded by finding Ian’s flavour under the nasty condom’s residue.
Ian kissed him until Drake’s lips felt swollen, then he moved down to Drake’s chin, his jaw, his neck. By the time Ian reached his collarbone, Drake’s cock was beginning to try to firm up again. Ian slid a hand down to Drake’s balls. “I like these, like this.” He traced the base of Drake’s shaft. “I like all of you. Tell me we can try this.”
Drake wasn’t sure if Ian meant messing around, dating or BDSM—or some combination of those things. He needed to ask for clarification, but he was climax-stoned and would have agreed to anything Ian asked of him.
Maybe Ian knew that, because he put a finger to Drake’s lips. “Don’t answer that now. Think about it, and call me tomorrow, or whenever you have an answer. I’ll try to be patient.” Ian moved his finger and kissed him again. “Drake.” He touched Drake’s cheek, staring in his eyes. Drake couldn’t look away from the pale icy irises. “I’ll try whatever you want.”
Drake got the feeling that was something different from anything Ian had offered other men. He’d said he hadn’t had a relationship, had just fucked around and done scenes. Drake was pretty sure Ian was offering him much more than that. It was heady and scary.
Ian looked at him, yearning slipping into Ian’s expression before he locked it down and the cold, harsh demeanour was firmly back in place.
Dang it, that turned Drake on, too.
Ian didn’t smile, exactly, but Drake thought he could feel the man’s amusement. It warmed Drake inside and thawed some of the fear that had settled around his heart.
Then Ian kissed him, just a brush of lips on lips, and he helped Drake up. Drake’s pants slid down to his ankles.
“I hope I haven’t gotten you in trouble,” Ian said quietly. “I didn’t think about your job, I just wanted to touch you.”
Drake knew he had to look like an idiot with the condom still dangling off his cock and his jeans and underwear on the floor, but he didn’t
“Perfect,” Ian said. Before Drake could think up an appropriate response—was he supposed to say thank you or what?—Ian lapped at the tip of his cock.
Drake’s brain was going to freaking melt, just like his insides were trying to do. “Oh, oh, please—Ian,” he tacked on, remembering Ian’s demand. Maybe it’d been a request, but Drake didn’t think so, and it wasn’t a selfish thing to ask. Drake liked saying Ian’s name. He liked the way it made Ian’s pale blue eyes darken as the pupils expanded, the way Ian looked more stern and yet needy at the same time.
And he really liked the way it got him more. Ian suckled his cock in deeper, and even with the condom on, it was an exquisite pleasure that fired up every nerve in Drake’s shaft. He clenched his ass, wishing he had a hard, fat cock in him. That would be perfection, being blown and fucked at the same time.
Then he was rethinking what perfection was, because Ian bobbed down farther and the suction was so intense, Drake felt it down to his core. He tried to spread his legs, but the jeans proved to be frustratingly restrictive. It was almost like he was bound…
Ian came back up his length and promptly went down again. At the same time, he spread Drake’s butt cheeks apart. While he didn’t touch Drake there, the mere act of opening him up like that slammed Drake into orgasm. He yelled and bucked his hips. Ian planted an arm over his belly, forcing Drake down as he pumped his release into the rubber. Being held down only intensified Drake’s climax, so that he was dizzy and breathless, gasping like he’d run half a dozen miles when the last spurt left his cock.
Ian left off sucking him and before Drake knew what was what, he was being kissed. The taste of latex was repulsive, but Ian had tolerated it—somehow. Drake fought the impulse to turn his head, and was rewarded by finding Ian’s flavour under the nasty condom’s residue.
Ian kissed him until Drake’s lips felt swollen, then he moved down to Drake’s chin, his jaw, his neck. By the time Ian reached his collarbone, Drake’s cock was beginning to try to firm up again. Ian slid a hand down to Drake’s balls. “I like these, like this.” He traced the base of Drake’s shaft. “I like all of you. Tell me we can try this.”
Drake wasn’t sure if Ian meant messing around, dating or BDSM—or some combination of those things. He needed to ask for clarification, but he was climax-stoned and would have agreed to anything Ian asked of him.
Maybe Ian knew that, because he put a finger to Drake’s lips. “Don’t answer that now. Think about it, and call me tomorrow, or whenever you have an answer. I’ll try to be patient.” Ian moved his finger and kissed him again. “Drake.” He touched Drake’s cheek, staring in his eyes. Drake couldn’t look away from the pale icy irises. “I’ll try whatever you want.”
Drake got the feeling that was something different from anything Ian had offered other men. He’d said he hadn’t had a relationship, had just fucked around and done scenes. Drake was pretty sure Ian was offering him much more than that. It was heady and scary.
Ian looked at him, yearning slipping into Ian’s expression before he locked it down and the cold, harsh demeanour was firmly back in place.
Dang it, that turned Drake on, too.
Ian didn’t smile, exactly, but Drake thought he could feel the man’s amusement. It warmed Drake inside and thawed some of the fear that had settled around his heart.
Then Ian kissed him, just a brush of lips on lips, and he helped Drake up. Drake’s pants slid down to his ankles.
“I hope I haven’t gotten you in trouble,” Ian said quietly. “I didn’t think about your job, I just wanted to touch you.”
Drake knew he had to look like an idiot with the condom still dangling off his cock and his jeans and underwear on the floor, but he didn’t
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