Page 30 of Toren

“It’s you.”

Toren flicked the cherry into the ashtray and nodded, focusing on touching himself and stroking himself toward an orgasm.

“Where do you want me to come?” Toren asked him.

The immediate answer that came to Andrew’s mind was everywhere, but Toren was only one man and there was only so much he could do with one load.

When Andrew didn’t reply, Toren said, “You can be dirty about it, baby. It won’t scare me away.”

Andrew’s dick throbbed in his hand.

“I want you to come in my mouth, on it. On my tongue, and I want to kiss you with it still in my mouth.”

Toren nodded, eyes hooded. “And then?”

Andrew swallowed hard. “Then I want you to suck me and let me come all over your mouth, your lips.”

Toren dragged his tongue across his lower lip, slicking the way for his cigarette.

“And then?” he prompted again.

“Kiss me.”

Toren groaned, lifting out of the chair and pointing his cock toward Andrew’s already parted mouth.

“I’m coming,” Toren warned, and then he did. Hot bursts of cum shot out of his cock and splattered against Andrew’s waiting tongue and his chin. He groaned, ribbons painting his mouth and his cheeks as Toren finished himself off with a rough grunt and the crisp inhale of smoke.

Toren smashed the butt into the ashtray, and Andrew yanked him down and out of the chair until their lips collided. Smoke mixed with spit and cum, and Andrew worked himself quickly as he moaned his pleasure into Toren’s mouth. This was all so new for him. Until he met Toren, Andrew had hated smoking. He thought it was a disgusting habit, but seeing Toren leaning against the wall of the art gallery, mouth glowing from the lights, he’d been a changed man. The taste of Toren’s cigarettes was as much the taste of him as sweat or cum or any other bodily fluid, and Andrew was greedy. He was a Covington, after all, and he wanted everything about Toren for himself.

He’d seen—from afar—all of his brothers turn into fully-realized versions of themselves through love, and he feared he was next to change.

Toren consumed him, their tongues tangling, bodies smashed together. Andrew’s cock hurt for how hard he was, and he didn’t even need to warn Toren he was close. Toren pushed him onto his back in the grass and slid between his legs, taking Andrew’s cock into his mouth like they’d been doing this for years.

Andrew shoved Toren’s hair out of the way, watched rapt as Toren made a show of spitting his own cum onto Andrew’s dick before using his tongue to smear it around. Toren’s lips kissed Andrew’s fingers wrapped around the base, and then Toren swatted his hand out of the way and took him all the way down to the root. Andrew whimpered, tightening his hold on Toren, hips bucking as Toren sucked the orgasm right out of him.

Toren had come messily all over Andrew’s face, but Andrew came hot and contained, all of it landing against Toren’s cheeks, the back of his tongue, the reaches of his throat. Toren did sputter around his load, but he swallowed it all down, eyes hooded and searching as Andrew’s cock thickened against the roof of his mouth.

Andrew was spent.

He wanted to pull Toren up, to kiss him again, to chase the mix of their pleasure back into his own mouth, but his bones were gelatin, his muscles worthless. He collapsed like a starfish in his back yard, Toren just as limp over his lap. They were both still dressed, save for their freed cocks, and he was grateful nobody on either side of him had a second story and a view into his back yard.

Andrew groaned at the thought of somebody watching them and reminded himself of what Toren’s friend had suggested as a way to chase the thrill they both found from being together behind Dave’s back. He’d file that away for another time, focusing instead on willing his fingers to work again so he could touch Toren in all of the ways he wanted.

“Is that close to how you imagined it?” Toren asked, rolling off of him and onto the concrete pad.

Andrew laughed. “Better.”

Toren hummed. “Can I make a request for the next item of business?”

“I need at least half an hour.”

“I want a shower,” Toren said, rolling onto his side with a grimace before pushing himself upright. He held out a hand and helped Andrew off the ground. “I want a shower, and I want clean clothes, and I want a couch.”

“I can give you all of those things,” he said.

Could give him anything.

Everything.