Page 74 of Burn It Down

His jaw clenches and he looks pissed for some reason, but after another few seconds, he does as I ask, allowing me to climb on the bed after him. He laces his fingers and puts them behind his head, watching me.Fuck, his arms are huge.

I tuck my legs behind me so I’m straddling his waist and with a sloppy amount of lube in my hand, I shove both our cocks in my fist and begin stroking. The pressure combined with the glide of my fist has Dylan muttering in Spanish.

“Santa mierda. Frota esa polla.” Before I can ask him to translate, he does it on his own. “Holy shit, baby. Stroke that cock.”

I manage to keep my orgasm at bay for about three minutes of rubbing our dicks together until finally, I confess, “Dylan, I’m about to come, so if you had other plans for the evening, now would be a good time to tell me.”

Does he want to go all the way? I sure as fuck do.

“What’s wrong?” he smirks, pushing his hips forward, fucking himself with my fist. “You can only come once a night?”

I take my hand away, needing to concentrate so I can give him another honest answer. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a position where I wanted to go more than once.”

Either the honesty, the words themselves, or the challenge in them, causes him to react. He pushes on my shoulders and rolls me over, landing on top of me, rolling his hips into me.

Cool air blows across my fevered skin from the air conditioning vent above us. The low whir creates a peaceful hum in the background of our fractured breaths. Despite that breeze, we’re both still sweating as we grapple for position. Although we haven’t discussed it — both of us assuming that whatever else we were going to do tonight, getting the green light to dothiswasn’t on the list of possibilities — there’s no doubt in my mind that Dylan is a top, which works out perfectly for me. I’m only fighting him now because I like the way it feels when his muscles contract to fight back.

I wouldneverbe this rough with Cora.

I shove him back so hard he lands on his ass on the bed. Panting, he asks, “Did you push me because you want me to stop or are you fighting with me because you can?”

I launch myself at him, straddling his hips with my knees and smile. “Because I can. Please, for the love of all that’s good, don’t stop.”

In a flash, he sits up, bucks his hips and pushes on my shoulders, knocking me off balance to regain control. Using both of his hands, he grips my waist and easily flips me onto my stomach, smacking me hard across my bare ass. A second later, he grabs my hips and drags me onto all fours. His fingers are digging into my cheeks with punishing force and I smile, knowing he’s going to leave ten small fingertip-shaped bruises back there.

I’ll happily bear his mark.

I hear the spit leave his mouth a second before I feel it land on my ass. His thumb follows the liquid, rubbing it in and slapping his dick against me.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans. “I’m going to bury myself so far in this ass I’m going to come in a different time zone.”

I want to watch him. I want to see his face and run my hands up his chest. I want to watch all thirty-two of his abs contract with the movement of him pounding into me, but I don’t want him to stop what he’s currently doing, either.

“We haven’t really talked about roles,” he says, his fingers now trailing along my ass-crack.

Roles. Tops. Bottoms. Something I haven’t discussed in quite a while.

To those outside our community, terms likeswitchare used for guys like me — guys who do both. But I answer him with appropriate lingo to let him know that although it’s been a while, my preferences have remained the same.

“I’m a vers bottom.” I’ll do either, and occasionally enjoy being on top, but mostly, I prefer to bottom. To me, there’s less pressure in this role and I’m able to relax and enjoy it more.

He spits again, and I feel his hips push forward. His dick has replaced his fingers moving along the seam of my ass. “I don’t bottom. Ever. Nor do I suck dick. Is that gonna be a problem for you?”

I’m too fucking horny to really process this shit right now so a joke comes out instead. “Bit of a selfish fucker, aren’t you?” I ask, pushing my ass into him, needing him inside me.

“I’m serious, Jake.”

“Me too. Now fuck me.”

Thankfully, he decides to let it go and changes his line of questioning. “Condoms?”

“Shit. I don’t have them. There’s not really a need. I got tested before Cora and I got together and haven’t been with anyone except her ever since, she’s on birth control, and we just don’t have sex that often.”

“My last partner was a year ago,” Dylan says, still rubbing against me as he talks. “I’m also clean.”

I take a deep breath and control my tone for fear of being overzealous. “It’s okay with me if we go without then.”

“You’re sure?”

---