Page 19 of Seduction on the Slopes

In a second, I’m using my knees to part Crash’s so I can kneel between his legs and go to work, taking him into my mouth. His choked-off response sounds kind of like “for the love of all things—” Dude can’t even get the “holy” out, and I’ve barely started.

I work the part of his dick I can’t take into my mouth with a hand while my tongue and cheeks do the rest of the work. Maybe with a little bit of teeth, which makes him hiss and then groan. So noisy. So uncouth and impolite, and I love it. He tastes good in my mouth, salty, and earthy, with a little musk. I breathe him in, and it makes me want to not do this anymore. Not because I’m not enjoying myself—I am, very much—but what I want more than the taste of Crash in my mouth is to be inside of him. I want him to take me.

I pop off long enough to ask “lube?” and go back about my business while he fumbles with the drawer of the bedside table. Handy. What does he think I’m going to do? Or does he not care?

When I think I’ve heard the grind of the drawer closing, I hold out a hand, and Crash slaps a tube into it. Once again I have to stop my work and as I crack the lube open, Crash stares at me, flushed and breathing hard. “You’re not so bad at that, you know?”

I smile, because I know it’s about to get better. Because I want to watch him squirm, watch him wonder what my plans are I hold up two fingers and drizzle the lube onto them. He’s riveted, can’t take his eyes off the clear liquid slicking up my fingers and will soon be slicking elsewhere.

Tossing the lube to the side, I lay a palm on his hipbone, wrapping fingers around and giving him a squeeze. “You tell me anytime you want me to stop. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.”

“I want. I want everything. All the things, I want them. Please.”

His breathless, pleading words make me want to drop my head back and let out my own groan. For the love of all things is right. But the only outward sign that I’m about to fucking lose it is the front of my pajama bottoms getting wet and sticky with pre-come.

I’m not usually one of those guys who talks to his cock like it’s a separate being with a mind of its own, but it seems appropriate right now.Buddy, I know, I want to fuck him, too, but you can’t, so just chill.And of course, my erection responds by throbbing even harder, probably out of spite.

What I was after though in the first place is going to be mine. I reach my hand between Crash’s legs, place my slick fingertips right behind his balls and slide back until I’m rubbing circles around his hole, brushing over it, coaxing it, him, to open for me.Let me in.

With my hand that’s not playing with his asshole, I squeeze his hip again and stroke. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. This is all about making you feel good, right?”

He nods tightly, his wild hair flopping on his white pillow as he closes his eyes.

Then something occurs to me—he’s said he fucks dudes, but is that true? I want to be sure he’s had some experience before I take this any further. “You’ve done this before, right?”

More tight nodding, and his abs are clenching before I feel him purposefully give way. Taking advantage, I press a single finger inside him, just the tip, and wait for a protest that doesn’t come. Just air sucked through Crash’s teeth, and a canting of his hips in a way that makes me think he’s begging for more. And oh, is there more.

Crash

Miles Palmer has a finger up my ass. Well, part of one, anyway, and I want there to be more. Way more. I want to beg him to take the cock I’ve seen straining against his pants and fuck me with it. It’s been a while since I’ve bottomed, but I’d be happy to again. But I’m not going to beg, not even going to ask, because he made it clear he wasn’t going to come. Which seemed crazy to me, but whatever.

I’m not going to try to change his mind though. Not at the risk of him deciding this whole thing is too much trouble and he’s sick of it. I’ll take whatever he wants to give me, though I’m totally shameless enough to try to get him further inside me. Because if this is on the table, I’m gonna take it, oh yes I am.

He smiles down at me, that cocky spread of a grin as he works slowly inside of me, adding more lube and being so careful I kind of want to yell at him to get on with it. But I know Miles; no fucking way would he do that. So I grit my teeth, and try to cooperate with his glacial pace without blowing my wad because it feels so goddamn good. It’ll feel better, it will, I know it will.

Once he’s got the one finger all the way in, he pushes it back and forth, rocks into me before retreating, and the back of my neck is going to be red for how hard I’m digging my fingernails into the skin there. There’ll be agonized little crescents pressed into my skin for hours, if not bruises for days.

Finally he decides I can handle another one and luckily for me, isn’t quite as cautious this time around. When he brushes my prostate it’s all I can do not to let out a yell. As it is, it’s maybe more of a bark because I’m trying to keep it inside, but there’s only so much I can hold back at one time.

I manage to open my eyes and the way Miles is looking at me, his dark eyes focused on where his fingers are plunging in and out of me . . . the last couple of times we did this, sure he got hard, but he didn’t look like he wanted to. This time, though, he looks like he wants me. He blinks, and then his gaze is trained on my face instead of my ass. It’s so intense I’ve got a touch of vertigo.

“Crash?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I—Would you—” Miles shakes his head, and his rhythm inside me falters.

Ask me. Ask me. I’ll say yes. Whatever it is.“Ask me.”

The fire in his eyes that had guttered with the shake of his head seems to flicker and then relight. And with a rock of my hips to meet the press of his finger, his face is ablaze with it again. Hewantsme.

“Turn over.” Telling is also good.

Somehow we scramble until I’m on my stomach and raising my ass up for him, and he’s digging in the drawer.

Stupid, Crash, not to have asked about protection.But out of the two of us, who’s not going to fuck without it every single goddamn time? Miles. And he doesn’t. How long it takes him to glove up makes me want to die or shake my butt in his face and be allwhy is this taking so long?But I won’t. I’ll let him do what he needs to, because I don’t want to call any more attention to the fact that this is something he said he’d never do.

No, I let him part my cheeks, and press his lubed-up cock against my hole. Close my eyes and pray when he hesitates.Please, give this to me. Please let Miles give this to himself.And because apparently it’s the year for my prayers to be answered, the head of his cock slips inside me and then he waits.

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