Page 79 of The Play

Greedy, pushy Grant in bed was even hotter than Deacon could’ve imagined.

“Oh, baby,” he teased, “I’m gonna give you everything you need.”

“Yeah, yeah, oh God, yeah,” Grant echoed.

Deacon swiped his tongue across that wet spot, groaning in the back of his throat at the taste of him, then tugged his boxer briefs down.

His cock bobbed out, so hard and flushed red, and Deacon had wanted to tease, to draw it out, to make Grant beg a little more, to make him wild and desperate, but once he got a sampling, his control splintered. He dove in, sliding just the head into his mouth, and sucking hard.

Grant groaned, and Deacon gave him more and more and more.

He was just as hard as Grant was, rocking against the bed helplessly, lost in the act of doing this, the pleasure echoing back through him like it was his own cock being sucked.

There was nothing he wanted more than for Grant to be just as overwhelmed as he was. His fingers, slick with saliva, traced his balls, and then pushed farther back, snubbing up against his hole, and Grant gasped, the noise loud in this silent room.

“Please,” Grant begged again.

It was almost painful to pull off, to let Grant’s cock out of his mouth, but the words spilled out anyway. “You want to come, filled with my fingers, your cock down my throat?”

A whole string of desperate gibberish spilled out of Grant’s mouth.

God, how long had he imagined him like this?

And still the reality was nothing like those pathetic pale fantasies.

Deacon pressed a fingertip in, feeling the jolt of Grant’s body as it tensed and then relaxed around the intrusion.

Grant didn’t even need to keep moaning like that, like Deacon was giving him more pleasure than he’d ever imagined, because it was obvious just how much he wanted it. How much he loved it.

His cock twitched as another finger joined the first, Deacon hoping he’d found the right spot inside him.

He swiveled his hand, and Grant yelped, his cock blurting precome onto his tongue, and he knew he was close.

Come for me, Deacon thought intensely. Wishing his mouth wasn’t full and he could say it, but he didn’t need to, because only seconds later, Grant was clenching around him, emptying down his throat.

Deacon took his time taking Grant down, sucking him clean slowly and thoroughly, until Grant made a content noise.

When he glanced up, Grant was staring at him. His eyes glowing bright green, happy and satisfied.

“Good?” Deacon asked.

“Come ’ere,” Grant insisted, and Deacon was helpless, a second time, to not do exactly what he said. He crawled up Grant’s gorgeous body and kissed him.

Tried, very hard, not to hump his thigh, but it was really hard, because God, he was so goddamn horny, his own control hanging by a thread.

“It’s alright,” Grant said, when he broke the kiss, grinning wildly. “I got you.”

He reached over and grabbed a bottle from the drawer in the table next to the bed.

There wasn’t much blood left in Deacon’s brain. “What are you doing?” he asked stupidly.

“Taking care of you,” Grant said. And then there was even less blood in his brain because Grant was wetting his fingers with the lube and tucking them behind him.

“Jesus, what are you doing?”

Grant grinned. “Nothing to do with Jesus, I promise. Lie back. Come on. Yep, just like that,” he said with an approving nod as Deacon collapsed onto the bed.

With his other hand, he made quick work of Deacon’s jeans.

---