Read Online Talker's Redemption by Amy Lane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amy Lane
Tags: M/M Contemporary, Source: Amazon
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kept stroking, and started licking Brian’s balls (very grateful that Brian liked to shower thoroughly, because this could be a really unpleasant position to be in if he didn’t) and Brian stopped rummaging for a minute, pressed his face against the pillow again and let out a short bark of a laugh.
“Gaaaawwwwdddd Talker! Killing me! Killing. Me!”
And Tate opened his mouth wide and engulfed his entire testicle, just to hear him strangle on his breath into the pillow. He kept doing it, and after a minute or two, the rummaging around in the dresser resumed, and Brian blurted, “Thank God!” and then his hand came back, and he fumbled for Talker’s hand as it stroked his cock.
Talker let go of the cock (not easy to do. God, it felt good, all swollen and tight like that) and wrapped his fingers around….
A round plastic bottle of lube.
“Wha?” He was startled.
“Jesus, Talker,” Brian breathed. “I’m all… all… just grease me up and take me, right?” He thrust back with his bottom to punctuate the idea, and Talker just gaped at him, his hard-on aching in his sweats and his brain on flash-fry.
Brian made a little whining sound and turned around to snatch the bottle back. While Talker was still coming up with words for, “But… but you’re the top! I’m supposed to… oh Jesus.” Brian poured clear, slippery lubricant on his fingers and reached back, and and and oh holy bat, crapman, he was thrusting a finger into his own tightly puckered entrance, and Tate couldn’t look away.
Brian sighed and grunted, and his whole body shook like a dog getting scratched in just that right place, and then he added another finger.
All thoughts about “top” and “bottom” charged out of Talker’s skull, and he wanted to touch his lover in the way that was making him moan softly into the pillow with every molecule of his body, even the ones in the ends of his hair and his tattoos.
He reached out and grabbed Brian’s hand and pulled his fingers out, muttering, “Let me!”
Brian put his hand down and just sat there, ass in the air, vulnerable, and quivering with an unspoken begging that made Talker hurry so fast his hands shook. He stripped off his own clothes, shivering in the chill of their bedroom, and snagged the lube from where Brian had left it on the bed, then added some to his fingers.
He tended to keep his nails bitten to the skin anyway, so there was nothing sharp to snag on tender flesh, and he used two fingers, and push… push… push….
Brian’s sphincter clamped down on him in a tight, wet, lube-slick grip that gave Talker the shivers. Brian moaned and Talker pumped slowly in, feeling the hot, grainy texture of Brian’s insides and wondering, oh God, wondering….
His own cock, medium-sized and misshapen, was literally dripping pre-come onto the rumpled blankets. Oh God!
“Stretch me,” Brian commanded, his voice thin and impatient. “Scissor your… oh hell yes !”
Tate had never possessed any subtlety. “Now? Are you ready now?” Brian was begging. Omigod, there was his lover, on his hands and knees, slick and dilated and begging and of course Tate was good to go!
“Soooooo ready. C’mon, Talker… do it… Geez….” More pleading grunts into the pillow in front of him, more ass-wriggling and sexy shivers. Tate wanted him so bad, but—
“Don’t want to hurt….” For the moment, he was uncertain, and Brian put that to rest right quick.
“Gaaahhhh, fucking dammit, Talker, would you fuck me already?”
Well. Didn’t get much clearer than that, did it? Tate’s cockhead was mostly unscarred, and it looked, well, perfect, right up against Brian’s pucker. It looked… miraculous, pushing through it. Unbelievable. Fictional fucking. Brian stopped making noises and kept very still, and his breathing grew very even. Tate realized Brian was forcing himself to relax. He reached out a hand
“Gaaaawwwwdddd Talker! Killing me! Killing. Me!”
And Tate opened his mouth wide and engulfed his entire testicle, just to hear him strangle on his breath into the pillow. He kept doing it, and after a minute or two, the rummaging around in the dresser resumed, and Brian blurted, “Thank God!” and then his hand came back, and he fumbled for Talker’s hand as it stroked his cock.
Talker let go of the cock (not easy to do. God, it felt good, all swollen and tight like that) and wrapped his fingers around….
A round plastic bottle of lube.
“Wha?” He was startled.
“Jesus, Talker,” Brian breathed. “I’m all… all… just grease me up and take me, right?” He thrust back with his bottom to punctuate the idea, and Talker just gaped at him, his hard-on aching in his sweats and his brain on flash-fry.
Brian made a little whining sound and turned around to snatch the bottle back. While Talker was still coming up with words for, “But… but you’re the top! I’m supposed to… oh Jesus.” Brian poured clear, slippery lubricant on his fingers and reached back, and and and oh holy bat, crapman, he was thrusting a finger into his own tightly puckered entrance, and Tate couldn’t look away.
Brian sighed and grunted, and his whole body shook like a dog getting scratched in just that right place, and then he added another finger.
All thoughts about “top” and “bottom” charged out of Talker’s skull, and he wanted to touch his lover in the way that was making him moan softly into the pillow with every molecule of his body, even the ones in the ends of his hair and his tattoos.
He reached out and grabbed Brian’s hand and pulled his fingers out, muttering, “Let me!”
Brian put his hand down and just sat there, ass in the air, vulnerable, and quivering with an unspoken begging that made Talker hurry so fast his hands shook. He stripped off his own clothes, shivering in the chill of their bedroom, and snagged the lube from where Brian had left it on the bed, then added some to his fingers.
He tended to keep his nails bitten to the skin anyway, so there was nothing sharp to snag on tender flesh, and he used two fingers, and push… push… push….
Brian’s sphincter clamped down on him in a tight, wet, lube-slick grip that gave Talker the shivers. Brian moaned and Talker pumped slowly in, feeling the hot, grainy texture of Brian’s insides and wondering, oh God, wondering….
His own cock, medium-sized and misshapen, was literally dripping pre-come onto the rumpled blankets. Oh God!
“Stretch me,” Brian commanded, his voice thin and impatient. “Scissor your… oh hell yes !”
Tate had never possessed any subtlety. “Now? Are you ready now?” Brian was begging. Omigod, there was his lover, on his hands and knees, slick and dilated and begging and of course Tate was good to go!
“Soooooo ready. C’mon, Talker… do it… Geez….” More pleading grunts into the pillow in front of him, more ass-wriggling and sexy shivers. Tate wanted him so bad, but—
“Don’t want to hurt….” For the moment, he was uncertain, and Brian put that to rest right quick.
“Gaaahhhh, fucking dammit, Talker, would you fuck me already?”
Well. Didn’t get much clearer than that, did it? Tate’s cockhead was mostly unscarred, and it looked, well, perfect, right up against Brian’s pucker. It looked… miraculous, pushing through it. Unbelievable. Fictional fucking. Brian stopped making noises and kept very still, and his breathing grew very even. Tate realized Brian was forcing himself to relax. He reached out a hand
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