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“Hmm?”
“I think you need to be a little more central.”
Jamie felt Chris smile. “What? Like this?”
Jamie let out a soft cry, his fists tightening in the pillow even more as Chris placed a hand on each cheek and spread them apart. His breath was hot, with the tip of his nose touching the sensitive skin as his tongue licked a long, wet stripe up from Jamie’s balls, across the tight entrance, and to the base of his spine.
“Yeah, just like that,” Jamie whined.
Chris’s tongue was amazing on him—rough as it licked over, wet and sloppy and hot, then firm as it probed inside of him, pushing in the wetness, then sucking hard before starting all over again. Jamie moaned loudly and constantly, unable to lift his hips to a suitable level to take Chris’s tongue deeper. He grabbed Chris’s pillow and tried to stuff it under the space beneath him to hold himself at a better angle. The cool cotton brushed against his hard, heated cock and he moaned even louder, grasping it at the base as Chris’s tongue continued to work him open.
Chris’s face must have been a mess by then, buried between Jamie’s cheeks and covered with spit as he licked and sucked, nose and chin both buried in the hot space as he worked enthusiastically, not at all bothered by Jamie trying to push back into him.
“Fuck, Chris. That feels so nice,” he gasped.
“Mmmm…” Chris replied, as though tasting the most delicious dessert in the world. His hands were wrapped around the tops of Jamie’s thighs, pulling him back so he could get his face further in, delve his tongue deeper, make Jamie wetter, slicker.
“Fucking Christ, Roberts,” Jamie managed breathlessly. “I swear, if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m just going to end up coming all over the bed and it’ll be a totally wasted opportunity.”
Chris groaned against him and pulled back his head. “Sorry,” he gasped, flattening himself against Jamie’s back again. “I guess I got a little carried away.”
“Well, it’s not like I minded,” Jamie replied as Chris kissed his shoulder, then his jaw. “But I would much rather have your cock inside me when I come.”
Chris groaned again, messy wet mouth against Jamie’s cheek. “You are fucking filthy…”
“You’re the one who just had his face buried in my ass.”
“Hmmm,” Chris acknowledged. “Do you want to taste how good you are?”
A loud moan escaped Jamie as Chris licked his way into his mouth, his face still tacky with drying spit as he firmly pressed his tongue against Jamie’s. It was just about the most fantastically depraved thing Jamie had ever experienced and he wondered at the speed that Chris had turned from quiet and bashful into…well…this.
“And you call me filthy?” he murmured as Chris pulled back, smirking at him.
“You’re a bad influence.”
“Excellent. I must be doing something right.”
Chris kissed him again, and then suddenly his weight was gone as he sat back and reached for the bottle that had taken up a more permanent residence on the nightstand. Jamie took the opportunity to shift position, grabbing another pillow to stuff under his hips, biting his lip hard in anticipation as Chris squeezed cool gel onto his hands, slicking himself before pouring some between Jamie’s cheeks. It was cold and made his gasp, but soon enough, Chris was smoothing it with his cock, rubbing it up and down across the tight muscle ring before easing forward. He slid smoothly and easily into Jamie—no burn this time, just the tight pressure of being stretched and filled, and God, Jamie loved that feeling, loved the sensation of Chris completely filling him, of stretching out across his back and pushing him into the mattress.
Jamie’s breathing was shaky, shuddering as he lay there with his face muffling his moans as Chris moved inside him. He put his hands on Jamie’s thighs, raising Jamie up on his knees and settling into the space between them, pushing in deeper.
“Oh, God…” Jamie gritted out.
“Is that okay?” Chris asked breathlessly in his ear.
“It’s perfect…oh, Christ, it’s perfect.”
He had his face in a pillow and his backside raised high, Chris lain out across his back and balls deep inside of him, and Jamie had never been so blissfully overwhelmed. Chris linked their fingers together, crossing their arms over Jamie’s chest as he moved, slowly, steadily, only drawing back a little before sliding effortlessly back in. His mouth pressed small, wet kisses on Jamie’s jaw and Jamie could not and would not suppress the noises spilling from his mouth.
“Oh, God, Chris. Deeper…deeper…deep…oh…fuck!”
He was hot, sweat pooling at his hairline, running down the back of his neck and his dick ached, desperate to be touched as Chris’s rhythm picked up, starting to slam into him harder.
And then somewhere in the pounding of blood in his ears and his own moans, Jamie heard something—something not quite right, like the crunching of gravel.
“Chris, stop!” he said, panting, lifting his face free of the pillow. Chris stilled and suddenly they could both hear it as plain as day. Jamie was gripped by icy panic. “Fuck, it’s my mother!”
Chris was off him in an instant, pulling out so suddenly that it made Jamie whimper involuntarily as they both desperately tumbled out of the bed and made a grab for clothes.
