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“Don’t need lube. I’m close.” He was probably only a few stuttered jolts away from coming, the discomfort sending him there faster than he could have imagined. Fuck stamina.
Clint’s back hit the floor, his breath whooshing from his lungs as Scotland flipped their positions. Emptiness shattered his haze as Scotland’s cock slipped free from the movement, a heavy ache breaking through the fog.
“You don’t get to come—not tonight.” Scotland’s eyes were pitch dark, his hair surrounding him like a demonic halo. Shoulders straining, he half-dragged Clint across the floor, hefting him straight into his naked lap.
“Fuck that—” Clint’s words turned into a long groan as Scotland simultaneously slammed back inside and wrapped his hand around the base of Clint’s cock in a punishing grip.
“Try not to scream.”
Clint wouldn’t have been able to scream if he’d tried. Scotland jackhammered his cock inside, hitting his prostate with every thrust. The onslaught of Clint’s orgasm came and went, trapped beneath Scotland’s hand as his grip went tighter and tighter.
Tears rolled down his face as Clint dug his nails into Scotland’s ass, urging him faster and harder. His skin buzzed, his gasping breaths drowning out the blood rushing through his temples.
“That’s a good boy,” said Scotland as his hips stuttered and he buried himself all the way one last time. His cock pulsed, warmth flooding Clint’s ass as his own orgasm flitted away to nothing, his cock throbbing and so painful that it only made the tears come faster.
Good boy. The retort fizzled on his tongue as Scotland slipped out with a sigh, warmth following the move in that embarrassing way that only ever happened after the best fucks. It may have been a long time for him, but he certainly wasn’t tight after that pounding.
Scotland leaned on his hands, caging Clint’s body in as he throbbed. The smirk on his lips had turned into something soft and knowing. “I think I got my answer.”
Ah hell.
Chapter Eight
Scotland
With sex out of the way, and his balls aching with how recently they’d been emptied, things should have been easier. He’d pictured a snuggle session paired with an epic makeout before fucking Clint a second time, sweet and soft in his king-sized bed.
Instead, he was on his back on the cold floor, his pants around his knees and his ass sticking to the hardwood. The bruise on his head from when Clint had first knocked him down throbbed into a headache that promised to haunt him for the rest of the day.
“I am too old to fuck on the floor,” said Clint, grumbling as he slapped the hardwood. “Seriously, my knees are screwed.” He was too far away. When Scotland reached out, he couldn’t touch him, skimming his hand over the blank space between them.
Scotland let out a grunt, trying and failing to turn onto his side. “Any other limits I should know about for next time?”
They hadn’t exactly talked about it when Scotland had had the sudden revelation during dinner. One minute Clint had told him that they were never fucking, and the next he was pinned on his back with Clint riding him like some kind of horny cowboy.
“Pfft,” said Clint, shaking his head as he made an attempt at reaching his pants which were pooled on the floor next to the sink. “Next time? That’s a good joke. I’m never getting off this floor.”
Scotland quirked his lips, even as his heart sank. He wasn’t sure if Clint was serious or not. Hell, he was never sure of anything when it came to Clint.
“I didn’t realize you were a sub,” he said, grunting as he finally made it over onto his side, his back cracking as he adjusted himself. Scooting across the floor, he reached for Clint, dragging him closer despite the way his sweaty skin was sticky. “I pegged you for a Dom for sure.”
“You did peg me, for sure,” said Clint, a grin on his lips. “I’m a switch and proud of it.”
“Huh.” He leaned his head into Clint’s shoulder, breathing deep. Sweat, sex and Clint coated his lungs, giving him something to drown in. “I didn’t think there were any other switches in the community. Some people aren’t exactly fond of men like us.”
He dragged his lips over Clint’s shoulder, kissing the edge of one of the bite marks left behind. It didn’t make his sore back feel any better, but it sure was nice to see his marks on Clint’s skin. “I wouldn’t mind pegging you again. Just give me five.”
“You going to let me come this time?” asked Clint, brushing a hand over his belly. His cock was still hard, but not nearly as red as it had been. He hadn’t reached for it once, either. Good boy.
“Nah.” Scotland smirked, hefting himself onto his hands and knees before capturing Clint’s nipple between his lips. The small bud hardened at the touch, and he lapped his tongue over it. It was perfect.
“Seriously,” said Clint, tapping at his shoulder. “No more. My ass hurts.”
“I think you like that.” Clint had responded beautifully, even though it must have hurt something fierce. Scotland knew how much it ached to be penetrated so quickly without a warmup, especially when it had been a while.
“Let me see,” said Scotland. He also knew how rough Clint had been and how sensitive of an area it was. He’d had people legitimately hurt themselves by overenthusiastic sex before. He shuffled between Clint’s legs, pushing them wide.
“Ow. I don’t flex that way.” Clint tucked his legs together, rolling away from Scotland’s grip and getting to his knees. “I hate your floor. Fuck.” He grunted as he got to his feet, immediately moving to the counter and leaning heavily against it.
