Greg's back, scraped short nails over the vulnerable nape of
Greg's neck. All he could reach with his mouth was Greg's ear, but that
worked for nibbling. Greg arched, almost slipping off the chair, a
surprised little gasp escaping him. "I ... Oh. Sorry. It's been a
while."
"'S'okay. I got it." Yanking Greg back, he kissed that mouth hard,
loving the way that long, skinny body felt against him. Greg got
settled against him, hips rolling a little, sliding the hard prick
between them.
"Mmmm." Now if they could just line up. Like that. Shit, yeah. He
didn't give a shit if he came in his too-rough pants. It was too good
to stop and take any more off.
It didn't look like it was going to stop either, not the way Greg
was bucking, riding against him like the man was starved for it.
"Greg. I need ... oh, man. I think I'm gonna..." He lost it, eyes
wide and kinda not seeing anything, his hips bucking like crazy.
"Artie!" Greg watched him, held him, hands splayed on his chest.
He panted. "Damn. Greg. Damn." Clumsy as they were, his hands moved,
patting and petting. Greg just nodded, eyes huge, pupils dilated and
focused on him. He reached between them, the heel of his hand pressing
against the front of Greg's pants. "You, too, man. Definitely you."
Greg's head snapped back, throat working. Those pants were thin
enough he could feel Greg's prick throb against his palm. God. Fucking
hot. His own dick twitched a couple more times just watching, leaving
him gasping. Moaning. And sweaty as hell.
"You ... I ... Wow." Greg leaned into him, heart just pounding against him. "Wow."
"Serious wow." The silence stretched between them after that, just
sorta half comfy, half fragile, like they were afraid of what they
might say. The touching didn't stop, though, random caresses happening
over and over.
"Would you like some sweats? Something to wear for pie?" Greg was
still touching, kissing, as if he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop.
"Uh-huh. And then. Uh. The ice cream is melting." It was sitting
over there on the counter, no doubt ready to ooze off onto the floor.
If they were at his place that would be okay, as Duke would play
Hoover, but Greg liked the neat.
"Yeah. I have a mop." Greg's fingers found his nipple, tracing around it slowly.
"Oh. Okay. Well, we can always have the pie later. With some whipped
cream." He wiggled, ass scraping the chair. He spread his legs again,
trying to get the wet to settle.
"Come on. You can get comfortable." Greg stood, swaying a little, eyes just dragging over him.
"Comfy is good." The minute he got up he shucked the pants,
amazingly not one bit self-conscious about his scarred-up thigh or his
wet danglies.
Greg's fingers touched his thigh, wrapping around and holding it a minute. "I like it all."
"Yeah?" His cheeks flushed, a grin breaking out on his face. "Cool. I like your bony parts."
"You haven't seen them all." Greg headed over to the little partition separating the bedroom from the rest of the loft. "Yet."
Chapter Four
Artie was in his bed.
In his bed.
His bed.
Naked.
On purpose.
And no one had gotten there by accident or unconscious.
Greg poured another cup of coffee and blinked some more, heading back to sit next to Artie, close enough to touch.
In his bed.
Damn.
Artie rolled on his back, one arm whacking Greg's thigh and sitting
heavily there. Artie was happy to be in his bed. Sated and happy and
right at home. Dreaming about eating cheesecake. Off his belly. He
hummed, one finger touching, tracing over muscles and planes. Artie was
something else, something real. Something he had come to think of as
home long before last night. That arm twitched, the heavy muscles
pulling and moving. Artie was just wide everywhere, but not fat. Just
heavy and solid and made to get the job done.
"Shh..." He kept petting, putting the coffee cup aside. He moved to
that flat belly, the skin sprinkled with soft hair, so pale. Shiny.
Artie looked fine on his white sheets.
"Mmmnnh." Artie moved
Greg's neck. All he could reach with his mouth was Greg's ear, but that
worked for nibbling. Greg arched, almost slipping off the chair, a
surprised little gasp escaping him. "I ... Oh. Sorry. It's been a
while."
"'S'okay. I got it." Yanking Greg back, he kissed that mouth hard,
loving the way that long, skinny body felt against him. Greg got
settled against him, hips rolling a little, sliding the hard prick
between them.
"Mmmm." Now if they could just line up. Like that. Shit, yeah. He
didn't give a shit if he came in his too-rough pants. It was too good
to stop and take any more off.
It didn't look like it was going to stop either, not the way Greg
was bucking, riding against him like the man was starved for it.
"Greg. I need ... oh, man. I think I'm gonna..." He lost it, eyes
wide and kinda not seeing anything, his hips bucking like crazy.
"Artie!" Greg watched him, held him, hands splayed on his chest.
He panted. "Damn. Greg. Damn." Clumsy as they were, his hands moved,
patting and petting. Greg just nodded, eyes huge, pupils dilated and
focused on him. He reached between them, the heel of his hand pressing
against the front of Greg's pants. "You, too, man. Definitely you."
Greg's head snapped back, throat working. Those pants were thin
enough he could feel Greg's prick throb against his palm. God. Fucking
hot. His own dick twitched a couple more times just watching, leaving
him gasping. Moaning. And sweaty as hell.
"You ... I ... Wow." Greg leaned into him, heart just pounding against him. "Wow."
"Serious wow." The silence stretched between them after that, just
sorta half comfy, half fragile, like they were afraid of what they
might say. The touching didn't stop, though, random caresses happening
over and over.
"Would you like some sweats? Something to wear for pie?" Greg was
still touching, kissing, as if he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop.
"Uh-huh. And then. Uh. The ice cream is melting." It was sitting
over there on the counter, no doubt ready to ooze off onto the floor.
If they were at his place that would be okay, as Duke would play
Hoover, but Greg liked the neat.
"Yeah. I have a mop." Greg's fingers found his nipple, tracing around it slowly.
"Oh. Okay. Well, we can always have the pie later. With some whipped
cream." He wiggled, ass scraping the chair. He spread his legs again,
trying to get the wet to settle.
"Come on. You can get comfortable." Greg stood, swaying a little, eyes just dragging over him.
"Comfy is good." The minute he got up he shucked the pants,
amazingly not one bit self-conscious about his scarred-up thigh or his
wet danglies.
Greg's fingers touched his thigh, wrapping around and holding it a minute. "I like it all."
"Yeah?" His cheeks flushed, a grin breaking out on his face. "Cool. I like your bony parts."
"You haven't seen them all." Greg headed over to the little partition separating the bedroom from the rest of the loft. "Yet."
Chapter Four
Artie was in his bed.
In his bed.
His bed.
Naked.
On purpose.
And no one had gotten there by accident or unconscious.
Greg poured another cup of coffee and blinked some more, heading back to sit next to Artie, close enough to touch.
In his bed.
Damn.
Artie rolled on his back, one arm whacking Greg's thigh and sitting
heavily there. Artie was happy to be in his bed. Sated and happy and
right at home. Dreaming about eating cheesecake. Off his belly. He
hummed, one finger touching, tracing over muscles and planes. Artie was
something else, something real. Something he had come to think of as
home long before last night. That arm twitched, the heavy muscles
pulling and moving. Artie was just wide everywhere, but not fat. Just
heavy and solid and made to get the job done.
"Shh..." He kept petting, putting the coffee cup aside. He moved to
that flat belly, the skin sprinkled with soft hair, so pale. Shiny.
Artie looked fine on his white sheets.
"Mmmnnh." Artie moved
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