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“This is your house.” He’s grinning. “We’re at your house, and you fucking have the light saber. Please tell me you still have it.”
He laughs as he follows the driveway in a left curve. I see a blink of dark lawn, what looks like another fence. Then we’re facing a four-car garage. The nearest door lifts open, and we roll into the pristine-looking space beside a dark SUV.
“This is your house?” I’m grinning like an idiot.
“Nah.” His lips twitch as he looks up at me. “Took you to the neighbor’s place.”
I squeeze his leg. “Hope the neighbor doesn’t care if I play with your light saber.”* * *LUKEHis low words make my dick hard. I can see him see it. His eyes glaze, and his lips curve into a slow smile. Then he reaches over, looking into my eyes as he cups his hand over my package. “These pants make me crazy,” he confesses. “So damn soft…and just a little bit tight.”
I laugh, then grit my teeth and lean my head against the headrest as he rubs me. “Tailor has to let them out,” I say. He comes under my balls, and I rasp, “Right there.”
“Serious? Your balls are too big for pants, McDowell?”
“They’re bespoke. It’s not a big deal.”
He rubs me. “Oh, I would say it’s definitely a big deal.”
I lift my hips on a groan. “You gonna make me cream my pants in the garage?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I lean over and give him a rub. He’s hard as ever.
“Mr. Rayne. Always so excited.” I put my hand over his hand that’s covering my cock, then capture his wrist. “Let’s take this to my room.”
I look up, and his eyelids are so low, his face so slack with lust, I can’t help kissing his mouth.
“I don’t know what sword I want to see first.” He looks tired—and joyous.
“Who’s saying you get a choice?”
We’re both tenting our pants as I press my finger to the lock by the back door. I keep my eyes on his face as we step inside the kitchen hallway, facing my two Rothkos. After a second, his blue-gray eyes pop open wide, and his soft Vance lips part.
“Oh shit. I’m gonna come now.”
I laugh at his hoarseness and the shock on his face. Then I reach out, rubbing him as he leans back against the wall. I reach into his pants and stroke his thick, warm tip—jutting up out of his boxer-briefs now. Then I take his hand and pull him through the kitchen. We pass through the living room, start down a long hall. There’s a mural on the hallway ceiling…glass-blown chandeliers…a great, vast landscape in oils by Peter Doig.
As we pass by that, Vance’s hand squeezes mine. But I don’t want to talk about my family’s art now. I lengthen my strides, leading him past the yellow room, the gray room, the small library, music room…
I picture his cock held to his hard, warm belly by the confine of his waistband…his thick, heavy sac drawn up below, bouncing slightly with each step past the green room, the old game room…over the oriental rug that leads to my door.
I unfasten his pants, reach inside, and give him a few slow strokes. Then I lead him by his long cock into my room.
His glazed eyes move around the space. I think he rasps, “Big.”
I stroke him again. “It is big. And always so hard. Why don’t you get on the bed, Vance?”
There’s a Dali over the carved headboard—where his painting hung until I ruined it. My regret at that is tempered by the pleasure I feel as I watch his eyes widen. He looks happy. Horny.
“Lie down, Vanny.”
I watch, stroking myself as he settles with his legs toward the pillows. He bends his legs, looking at my painting then the artwork on the wooden four-post canopy as he pumps himself.
I climb up beside him, work my pants down my hips, and crawl between his knees. I squeeze myself while I lean down and suck his thick head. I suck more of him into my mouth, and his rear comes up off the mattress. He groans, “Luke.” I suck him deeper, and Vance shifts, moving so one of his legs is between mine. He raises his knee partway up, rubbing his leg against my balls.
I push my tongue into his slit and roll his balls, taking him deep a few times. Then I think about how we’re on my bed. Vance is on my bed, and I’m sucking him off. His leg rubs my balls, and I come in a crash of satisfaction. As I groan, he blows in my mouth.
I’m watching his face as he comes back around. I watch as his eyelids lift open. He smiles at me, drapes his hand around my nape.
“Tell me when you made that sound that you came, too.”
