Acts of Faith – A.M. Arthur
Author Links : Website | Twitter
Buy Links : Samhain | Amazon
“Want you to think of me every time you do laundry,” Sam whispered. “Want you to think of me bending you over, fucking you into orbit, while you’re separating lights and darks.”
Reign groaned and pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the washing machine. Hands unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and pushed his jeans down to his ankles. Boxer briefs followed, and the cold air brushed across his bare ass. The angle gave no mercy to his aching cock, and Sam was not hurrying to touch him.
More jangling and fabric rustling, and Reign’s inside clenched with anticipation. Fast and dirty against the washing machine.
Sam’s heat passed close by, and then the familiar snap of the lube cap. A finger nudged at his opening. It pressed inside in a single, fluid motion that earned a surprised yelp Reign couldn’t stop. Sam didn’t let him adapt to the intrusion. He began a smooth in and out pace, slicking Reign’s body for what was to come. A second finger slid in with the first on a pleasant burn, filling him in the best way possible, until Sam’s hand stopped at the second knuckle.
“Fuck yourself on my hand,” Sam said.
A shudder tore down Reign’s spine, raising goose bumps all along his shoulders and arms. He shoved his hips backward, impaling himself on Sam’s fingers, grunting at the wonderful feeling of fullness. He swiveled his hips in a grinding motion, instead of thrusting back and forth, reveling in the sensation of having a part of Sam inside his body.
Sam curled his fingers. They brushed across his prostate, and Reign bit his wrist to hold back a shout as tiny darts of pure pleasure raced up his spine. He wanted that amazing sensation to last forever, but was too afraid of it shaking him to pieces if it did. All physical contact with Sam was with the two fingers stroking him, scissoring him open, but Reign had never felt closer to his partner. Never felt more safe and protected and loved.
A third finger nudged in with the others, and Reign bit harder on his wrist. The burn was intense, even with them only in to the first knuckle. Sam stopped pressing forward. His left hand smoothed up the sweaty skin of Reign’s back, beneath his shirt, petting, soothing, and his cock pulsed with anticipation.
“You can take them,” Sam whispered.
The noise Reign made was part whimper, part groan and all desire. He trusted Sam, trusted anything Sam wanted to do with his body. Knew that no matter what, they’d both get there and it would be worth it. Reign shifted his feet a bit, then pushed back, down. He felt every ripple, every millimeter of skin and bone as Sam’s fingers nudged a little deeper, a little farther. Opening him up, filling him. Sam’s hand on his back kept him from arching up, but it also provided grounding—Sam was there, and he wouldn’t let him fall.
“More,” Sam said.
God, how much more was there?
His body stretched, burned, came alive as he pushed down a little bit— “Fuck,” Reign hissed as Sam’s fingers slid in past the second knuckle.
Sam held him still, long enough for Reign to start panting. Neither of them moved, and all Reign could do was feel. Experience the exquisite fullness, the intensity of the stretch as it rippled up his spine, curled his toes. He wanted to scream but didn’t dare. He wanted to touch his cock, to touch Sam’s, to do something besides lay there, spread out for his lover, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t make himself break the spell.
And then Sam, the delightful bastard, curled those fingers again, and Reign arched up. White lights flashed behind his eyes as his orgasm pulsed just beyond reach. His balls drew up, and the skin on his cock was tight enough to hurt. He needed release so much, but he couldn’t find it. All he could do was pant and groan his need—and yet something in him would not beg. Not this time.
“God, Rey, you’re gorgeous like this,” Sam said. The hand on Reign’s back slid up to grip the base of his neck. “So fucking gorgeous, and all for me.”
“Yours. All yours, Sam.”
Those incredible fingers pulled out, and Reign didn’t have time to mourn the loss or experience the emptiness, because Sam pushed his cock inside in one smooth stroke that seemed to last forever. Reign groaned his pleasure into the crook of his elbow. Sam draped his big body over him, both hands coming around to brace on the front of the washing machine. The scent of Sam, of sex, of detergent, filled Reign’s nose and made him dizzy.
Sam gave him no time to adjust or wonder. His fast, deep thrusts stroked across Reign’s prostate every time, pushing him higher and higher, with no quarter to claim his orgasm. The moment he inched a hand down, instinct demanding he touch himself, Sam grabbed his hands and pressed them down on the washing machine. Trapped. Unable to do anything except take what Sam gave him. Reign let go and fell into the vortex of pleasure Sam had created. Experienced the intensity of sensation in his body, rippling up and down his spine, crackling across his skin.
He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, only that Sam thrust hard inside and stilled, and Reign felt the familiar warmth of his release. Sam held him there until Reign wanted to sob with need. Sam bent his head and nuzzled at the skin beneath Reign’s ear. “You want to come?”
The noise Reign made was as close to a yes as he could manage.
“Okay.” Sam pulled out, and in the same breath, pushed his fingers back inside, hard and deep, and he said, “Come for me.”
Midsummer – Racheline Maltese & Erin McRae
Racheline Author Links : Website | Twitter
Erin Author Links : Website | Twitter
Buy Links : Amazon | B&N
It’s just before sunset, and the deep red light filtering through the trees outside makes Michael’s skin glow. After John puts him on the bed again, Michael shuffles back against the pillow and lies there, watching while John lowers himself to his knees.
“Any complaints this time?” John asks, grabbing Michael by the hips and dragging him to the edge of the bed.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“Want me to walk you through it?” Michael asks with a smirk.
“I am at least familiar with the basic concept.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Michael deadpans. “Watch your teeth. Don’t go too deep. You have hands for a reason, and it’s gonna be more than you expect.”
“Consider it friendly advice. Choking on dick is not fun. Except when it is..”
As turned on and eager as John is, he also feels completely ridiculous to be getting this degree of sex advice from someone nearly half his age. Of course, that’s slightly less ridiculous than the fact that he’s in a situation where he actually needs that advice.
He mouths experimentally at the head of Michael’s dick. When Michael sighs happily and flops back down onto the bed, clearly getting comfortable, John tries to go deeper. He is a grown man, this is not rocket science, and he also really wants to. He’s always enjoyed using his mouth on lovers. He tries now to think of them as people, not women, for the sake of not naming Michael an aberration or anything that should make him nervous.
Except that he’s never actually sucked cock before and completely misjudges the depth. He pulls off, coughing.
Michael twirls a hand through his own hair. “I told you not to go too deep.”
“You’re infuriating,” John manages, even as his eyes are still tearing from his own stupidity.
“If it helps, you were doing very well,” he says playfully.
John rolls his eyes and decides to resume his task, lest he get any more absurdly emotionally embroiled than he clearly already is. He’s more cautious this time, but when he’s not cautious enough, Michael tugs sharply on his hair. It doesn’t have the desired effect because it both makes John stubborn and turns him on.
When he doesn’t let up, Michael seems to work out the math. When he pulls John’s hair again, John groans with his mouth full. John flutters his eyes open to see Michael smile like he’s just discovered the best thing.
John works Michael over with his mouth and eventually his hands when he remembers Michael’s earlier admonition. He doesn’t care that his knees hurt, that he’s far too old to be doing any of this. He just cares about making Michael feel so much that he eventually gives up tugging on John’s hair and ends up running his hands through it, his eyes closed and his mouth open while he pants through it.
To the extent that John can focus on anything other than Michael’s dick in his mouth, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. The women he’s slept with had, always he hopes, enjoyed themselves, but they never seemed so surprised as this. It’s new, and the lure of that is as undeniable as the friction when he grinds his own cock against the side of the bed.
Michael tries to warn him when he’s close, but John has no intention of stopping. He goes deeper, forcing Michael’s fingers to pull against his hair harder. When Michael finally does come, it is with a moan loud enough that John’s cabinmates can surely hear if they’re unfortunate enough to be home.
John coughs and is only marginally successful in swallowing. Something about his own ineptitude makes the whole experience dirtier for him, and his own orgasm takes him by surprise the moment he desperately takes himself in hand.
For a long time, they breathe in tandem, John still on his knees and forehead pressed against the bed while he recovers himself, and Michael flopped on his back.
Eventually Michael touches John’s head lightly, then holds his hand out when John looks up at him.
“Come on, let’s take care of you,” he says.
John smiles. “Already taken care of.”
“You couldn’t wait?” Michael says. It’s not teasing and there’s some emotion there John is having difficulty assigning a word to.
“Your dick was in my mouth and you were making those gorgeous sounds…,” he says, trailing off.
“Wait. You came from blowing me?” Michael asks, face lighting up.
“Kind of, yeah.” John finally climbs off the floor and into bed with him.
Michael grins. “I must be magic.”
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