Page 76 of By Any Means

“Earnestly, no. It wasn’t. Let me. Please, please.”

And so was this.

“You’ll do it,” Chary marveled. Half-demand, half-disbelief. “But⁠—”

“I want to. Your brother isn’t here; Hiram and his cowboy can take care of themselves—Chary. I want to. Not for anybody else.”

Oh, God. “Lock the door,” he whispered.

Laurie did, and then fell to his knees before him.

Chary said, “W-what—what’s next?”

Laurie hummed. “Next, I suck you.”

“Oh. Yes.”

Laurie pounced. Hauled him close, knees spread, then licked through the cloth of Chary’s shorts. What police? Chary thought dizzily.

“Small turret library,” Laurie muttered. “Hah. To hell with these shorts, yeah?”

Chary nodded frantically, but his mouth said, “But—you said no skin-on-skin?” It came out like a plead.

“I lied. I lied a lot. You know me.”

“Oh, thank the Lord,” Chary said fervently, which wasn’t right—or maybe it was— Laurie seemed to understand, because he laughed. The shorts, anyway, were free of his ankles, tossed to the floor. Chary was not having any more conflicting feelings, and they both knew it.

“Christ.” Laurie came close again, pulling Chary’s left knee over his shoulder and clutching it there. So much skin on skin: his body was as warm as a hot brick, sweating and sheened, his broad chest heaving shallow breaths like he rationed them. “Longest legs I’ve ever seen, Cherry. I want them wrapped around my ears.”

“You do?”

Laurie slid forward. The movement might’ve displaced Chary’s leg, but instead, he kept it clutched to him, nuzzling downward, startlingly intimate. “That’s the truth. Hold me close for what comes next.”

Brown and pupil-black eyes half-shut, Laurie tilted his head and wet his lips and opened them. Then, watching him the while, without licks or preamble, he slid his mouth slowly, slowly down onto Chary’s length.

Chary could only gasp.

Laurie took his time, adjusting, retreating and claiming, slicking as he went. Halfway—or thereabouts, because Chary’s vision was blurring with hot sensation and disbelief—how was this allowed? How had he dared ask for this?—Laurie paused, and slid back a little more. Breathed. Then, nostrils-flared, he kept going⁠—

“What—what—Laurie,” Chary gasped. “Laurie, how—” His left leg curled of its own accord; the other shook violently, tiptoe against the tile. He grabbed at Laurie’s shoulder with two trembling hands, else he fall apart completely. “How is it possible to— Ah.” His breath clicked to a hard stop as Laurie came all the way to the base of him. “Lord almighty,” he said, voiceless.

Laurie’s eyes closed; he stayed put, throat working. His hand rose and clutched tight to the dip in Chary’s waist, squeezing and stroking, splaying fingers wide to push against Chary’s great gasps and twitching, straining hips.

“W-wait.” Chary patted a hand blindly across a soft ear-shell, because surely Laurie couldn’t breathe?

Laurie’s eyes opened. He glanced up, and after a beat, as in his approach, he withdrew patiently, tilting his beautiful, teary face, goading, sucking. If this was performance, it was damned spectacular.

For his part, Chary had the urge to follow his retreat with thrusts, wanted to grab him and press him in again, make him shudder and heave and gag. He didn’t dare, and so it was devastating as all of him was released. He was left cold and tingling, upright and curving and nearly blood-red, and the rest of his body arched like a bridge.

Laurie breathed at last. “What—” He sucked in deep. “What’d I say?” he rasped.

“‘Hold me close,’” Chary whispered.

“Uh-huh.”

“That isn’t ‘Fuck my throat and gag me’!”

Laurie’s eyes flared a little wider. The hand at Chary’s waist squeezed hard. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry. Honesty.” He grinned wickedly. “Do both, Chary Wright. Fuck my throat and gag me.”