Grade rolled back off his knees into a squat and stood up. The mattress shifted under his weight as he unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down over his thighs. His cock nudged against his stomach, precum sticky on his skin, as he bent down.
Clay just lay there to enjoy the view for a bit and pushed himself up into a sitting position to help Grade strip. He licked wet kisses over Grade’s thighs as he dragged the crumpled chinos down to Grade’s ankles so he could step out of them. The muscles in Grade’s thighs quivered in response as little jolts of sensation fired under his skin and shot straight to his crotch.
Clay ran his hands up the back of Grade’s thighs in a slow caress, his palms rough with calluses. He tucked one leg under him and worked his way up until he bit a kiss into the tender skin at the crease of Grade’s thigh. It made Grade’s legs tremble as the sting of pleasure-pain made his cock so hard it ached. He reached down and worked his fingers into Clay’s messy curls, wet and cold against his palm.
“I thought I was doing all the work,” he said.
Clay laughed, his breath warm against wet, bruised skin, and turned his head to mouth at Grade’s balls. He sucked on the fine skin, hard enough to make Grade whimper with sensation—it didn’t matter if it felt good or bad. In the moment, it justfelt.
“Just making sure you were all loosened up.”
This time he let Grade feel his teeth as he sucked on his balls, the edges justthereagainst tender flesh. Then he dropped back down onto his elbows and let his gaze travel slowly up Grade’s body, with an appreciative pause at his cock before he made it up to his face.
“Doesn’t seem to have worked,” he said.
Grade snorted at him and got back down onto the bed one knee at a time. He grabbed the bottle to get more lube and then stretched forward to set it back down on the table. Clay shifted his weight onto one elbow so he could stroke his hand up the exposed length of Grade’s side. His fingers tested the muscle in Grade’s waist before they bumped over the bony slats of his ribs.
“Not much meat on your bones,” he said. “Both of us are going to have bruises tomorrow.”
Reaction to the dark promise in Clay’s voice shivered down Grade’s back. He tried to ignore it—or at least not let it show it on his face—as he straightened up. Lube puddled stickily in his palm and coated his fingers. Some of it dripped off onto Clay’s skin as Grade reached back and slid coated fingers into his own ass. It was an easy, familiar pleasure that worked up into his stomach and then down to settle in his balls.
“You bite your tongue when you do that,” Clay said. He stuck his own tongue out to demonstrate, the end of it pinched between his teeth. The curl of it managed somehow to be lewd. Then Clay released it and licked his lower lip slowly as he looked up at Grade with hooded dark eyes. “I want to see if you do it when you come.”
Grade swallowed and tried to pinpoint exactlyhowhe’d lost control of this. His cock didn’t care, but he’d like to know for future reference. He couldn’t pinpoint it at the moment, but he pushed it to the back of his mind for later.
He shifted back and reached down to wrap his hand around the base of Clay’s cock. Blood pulsed against his fingers, quick and hard, as he adjusted the angle. Under him, Clay made a low, raw sound in his throat as he reached up to grab the bars of the headboard. The tendons in his wrist stood out as he tightened his grip, muscles clenched under his skin, and pulled the scars tight.
Grade consciously tried not to bite his tongue as he pushed down on Clay’s cock. The blunt pressure against his ass made his stomach clench and his breath catch. It ached as he spread around the thick shaft, a dull pressure between his hip bones, but the aftertaste of sticky, hot pleasure followed like a chaser. It clenched in his stomach and settled, heavy and solid, in his balls.
Grade closed his eyes as he focused on the physical, the itch of pleasure-parched nerves under his skin, eager for themorethat knotted in his stomach and caught in his throat. The thickness of Clay’s cock in his ass, the slippery warmth and texture of bare skin as he pulled himself up and then thrust back down. His lips tasted like salt when he licked them, and his cock rubbed along Clay’s stomach as he rocked his hips forward.
“What sort of name is Grade anyhow?” Clay asked. His accent had thickened and slowed, molasses dragged off his tongue. The question interrupted Grade’s focus on his body and pinned him back down into the now. He opened his eyes and stared down at Clay, whose body was a long, taut line tethered to the headboard with a white-knuckled grip. “Who calls their kid Grade Pulaski? Your dad didn’t like you even before he fucked off?”
It took a second for Grade to shuffle together enough neurons that weren’t preoccupied with fired nerve-endings and the dull throb of pleasure that ran from his ass to his balls on a hot wire strung through his taint. He licked his lips.
“Now?”
Clay grinned and thrust up roughly. His cock slid deeper into Grade and ground against his prostate, a complicated burst of pleasure that made Grade bite down on the inside of his cheek. He gasped for breath as he reached back to brace one hand on Clay’s thigh.
“Been thinking about it,” Clay said.
“It’s a nickname,” Grade said.
Clay reached down between their bodies and grabbed Grade’s cock. He stroked it roughly, and Grade groaned as he tightened his fingers on Clay’s leg.
“For?”
“I skipped a grade in school,” Grade said in frustration. His body felt strung on a very taut wire that hooked into his balls, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk about the assholes he’d grown up with. Or that it had been two grades. Or that all these years on, he still called himself by the same nickname. If he’d wanted to get into all that, he’d have found a therapist to fuck. It didn’t help that Clay still had a hold of his cock, callused thumb nudged up under the slick head as Grade tried not to squirm.
“Why—oh, god—ask now?”
Clay pursed his lips and shrugged. “You weren’t paying attention,” he said. “Now you are. If you want to fuck me, Skipped-a-Grade Pulaski, you fuck me, not whatever lives rent-free in your head. And, you know, I did tell you I liked to talk.”
Grade leaned down and kissed Clay. It seemed like the only way to shut him up. He felt Clay’s surprise on his indrawn breath, and the body under his relaxed as Clay kissed him back. Long fingers cupped the back of his neck as Clay leaned up into the press of lips and tongue.
Some little voice in the back of Grade’s head said he’d made a mistake. Heheardit, but Clay rolled them over before he could pay any attention to it. Grade sucked in a breath—the air warm from Clay’s mouth—and cursed raggedly as Clay’s cock was forced deeper into him. His ass clenched, and the pressure ground against his sandwiched cock made his vision gray out as his brain was hijacked by the flood of pleasure.
“God.”
