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“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, but Oz’s words were getting to him. He wasn’t usually so vulgar in bed but if it got Oz going, then so be it. “This is a fuck, right?”
Oz shrugged. “If it’s good, I’d be up for doing it again when the need arises.”
“Guess we should figure that out.”
“If it’ll be good?”
“Yeah.” Barrett ran his hands up Oz’s chest, watching those dark eyes flutter shut at that simple touch. It spurred him on, those closed eyes and slick, parted lips, so when he pulled Oz into another kiss, he busied his fingers with stiff-peaked nipples. “Good?”
“Fuck. Fuckyes. You have great hands. Keep going.”
He pinched and scraped his way down Oz’s chest, emboldened by the near wild noises his partner was making. Oz seemed the type to like being catered to, and Barrett had a lot of pent-up energy to give. He followed the path of his hands with his mouth, skating over ribs and nipping at sensitive spots just above Oz’s hip. Those legs he’d been admiring hooked around his waist as Oz slid closer and wrapped his hand around them both.
Heat roared through him at the touch of another’s hand on his cock. But Oz kept talking, rambling, panting. “Fuck. Oh, fuck you Barrett. I can’t even get myhandaround us and you’re going to break me open on that goddamn thing…”
Barrett was already sweating. But so was Oz, at his hairline and his neck. He licked the hollow of Oz’s throat, feeling more than hearing the other man’s groan. “You prepped?”
Oz yanked him forward, setting his teeth in Barrett’s shoulder before saying, “Yeah, yeah. Just need stretched a little.”
So Barrett slid his hand down the back of that tattooed thigh, keeping his touch light. “I’m good at that.”
“Fuck. You’re gonna kill me.”
As Oz flipped over, Barrett pulled a condom down the first two fingers of his right hand and coated it all in lube. Then he looked down. “Aren’t you a sight.” Barrett ran his free hand up Oz’s back, watching the shiver that ran up a supple spine. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Please.” Oz looked back at him with wide, dark eyes. His bottom lip was red. Barrett wanted to push his thumb into that flesh and make it flush even darker.
That was the move of a lover. Not a fuck.
But the full body pulse ofwantwas his reward for patience - and perseverance - when he gently pushed his index finger into Oz’s body. Oz groaned, slumping forward to cradle his head on stacked forearms.
There was very little more physically intimate than being allowed to do this to someone else, pushing into a sensitive, delicate place that always felt like intrusion at first. But Oz knew what he was doing, and knew his body, because he spread his knees wider, canting his ass higher into the air. Asking for more, panting and thrusting back.
Barrett put a soothing hand in the middle of Oz’s back. “More?”
“Goddammit, Barret.Yes.”
“I didn’t forget you, promise,” Barrett said after he put a condom on himself and then returned to spear Oz on three fingers. “Not gonna come if I touch you, right?” Oz tried to huff or make some other contemptuous noise, but Barrett twisted, then spread his fingers just right. Oz threw himself forward, hips jolting forward to thrust his cock into Barrett’s fist. “Got my answer.”
“Fuck you.”
“Gladly.”
As perverse as it might have been, watching his cock slowly disappear inside Oz nearly overwhelmed him. He pulled back on the urge to slam in, but even through the condom he could feel that silky heat and some part of him hungered. It had been so fucking long. He was no believer in denial, like some kind of weird, medieval punishment that denying yourself earthly pleasures was how you gained nirvana or what have you.
Life simply hadn’t cooperated. And now life - or luck - had changed course.
“If you…go any slower…I’m gonna die of old age,” Oz panted.
“So tell me what you want.” Barrett gripped slim hips harder.
“In, all the way, now.”
He sucked in a deep breath and let himself collapse a little forward, giving over to gravity and the velvet clutch of Oz’s body. Oz didn’t speak for a long moment when they were ass to hip and Barrett was barely hanging on to any semblance of sanity. He wanted tomove now, every thrust and bump dragging little sounds out of Oz. But Oz needed the time to adjust, so he would get it. As long as he needed.
Then came the command, maybe three seconds and one eternity later. “Move.” Oz slammed his hands down on the low wood headboard, fingers tight on the dark oak.
Barrett moved. It was slow at first but as deep as he could get at this angle, this speed. Thoughdeepwasn’t necessarily a problem. There had been a few potential lovers who had gone running for the hills when they saw what he carried around and that had been the only time he’d been aware it wasdifferentin a bad way. Mostly they were like Oz: impressed at first, and left pleasantly sore afterwards. Oz was all tight, silky heat and Barrett knew he wasn’t going to last long.
