Page 74 of Dirty Air
His kiss is more controlled and stiffer than Fritz remembers. Fritz rocks forward to encourage him, pushing and pulling.
Henry’s hands are completely motionless, planted exactly where they started. Fritz can’t have that. He breaks the kiss and guides the hand on his hip to explore his body. Stomach, side, back, ass.
“Touchme, Henry.” He guides the other hand down from his cheek to his throat, around his neck, and up to his hair. The thick, calloused hands scrape at Fritz’s skin and he vibrates with the sensation. “I missed you. Please, give memore.”
“I get it, I get it,” Henry says, gasping. “I thought I’d let you set the pace.”
“Faster pace,” Fritz demands. It’s been months since he’s had him and they need to make up for lost time. “Push this lap.”
Henry takes the hint and sits upright, keeping Fritz seated in his lap. Their lips find each other again, but this time it’s hungrier. Biting. Fritz claws at Henry’s shoulders, at his biceps, at his stupid bald head—anything he can reach.
Henry’s hands explore the expanse of Fritz’s back, dipping under his shirt to get to his bare skin. “You don’t need this.”
Fritz leans back long enough to whip his shirt off, but returns just as readily. His hands tug at the offensive fabric still covering Henry’s chest. “You.”
“Okay, okay,” Henry laughs as Fritz continues to tear at the buttons of his shirt. “You have to let me go if you want it off.”
Fritz leans back again and watches Henry wrestle the shirttailsout of his trousers. He can’t keep his hands to himself, and he reaches forward the moment he sees exposed skin.
Fritz has only had him once, but he’s missed this. Missed the sight of Henry’s expansive chest under his palms, his fingers combing through his chest hair. He’s missed being able to map out Henry’s body, to run his hands over the hills and valleys of him.
Henry lets him explore for a moment, to reacquaint himself. His own hands stay parked on Fritz’s hips again, his thumbs rubbing in circles.
When Fritz pinches his nipple, he jerks, pulling Fritz impossibly closer. Both men groan when their dicks grind against each other.
“Is this okay?” Fritz wants to rut up against Henry until he comes in his pants, but he also doesn’t want to lose him again.
“More than.” Henry pulls Fritz’s face in for another kiss, a chaste thing, before shifting them closer to the edge of the bed. “Here, let me?—”
With his feet planted on the ground, Henry uses Fritz’s hips as leverage to thrust up, punching a moan out of the driver, who isn’t expecting it.
“Yes!” he gasps. “Like that.”
With every thrust, every slide of his cock against Henry’s bulge, Fritz fills out. Harder and harder until he’s stiff and leaking, his tip rubbing against the wet spot growing in his pants.
“I could come like this,” Fritz warns.
“That would be a shame.”
Henry pushes off the bed again, harder this time, and Fritz feels a swoop in his stomach before he registers that he’s been picked up.
Fritz yelps, wrapping his legs around Henry’s middle. Though he’s maybe three feet off the ground, he holds on for dear life.
“How do you want it?” Henry is smug when he bounces himup, readjusting his grip to support, his palms splayed over Fritz’s ass.
He just clings tighter. “I picked champagne shower. It is your turn to choose.”
“Mmmm, that’s what I like to hear.” Henry pats his butt before setting his driver down. “Clothes off. Where do you keep your lube?”
“Front pocket.” Fritz points to his carry-on sized bag while he stumbles over the legs of his sweatpants. Once he’s completely naked, he tries not to be disappointed when Henry turns the lights off. “Why are we shy? I want to see you.”
“It’s my turn to choose, remember?” Henry whips open the blackout curtains that hide the floor-to-ceiling windows. He turns, backlit by the city lights. “Come here.”
Fritz is butt naked and rock hard as he approaches the window, but with the lights off in the room, he isn’t afraid that anyone can see in.
São Paulo glitters with lights—the city bursting with hundreds of thousands of extra people in town for the race.
Henry steps behind him, and holds his hips for a moment. His breath ghosts across Fritz’s skin before his lips find his neck, trailing kisses from shoulder to ear. He still has his trousers on, that infuriating man, and the fabric is rough against Fritz’s ass. “Hands on the glass.”
