Looking for Trouble(68)

He whimpered when Clay turned him. He pushed his ass against Clay’s groin, and feeling his hard length made him whimper again. His own cock was pulsing, throbbing, he was so damn turned on.

His desire was relentless, climbing high and higher with each second they danced together. Clay’s hands were all over him still, his chest, tweaking his nipples, then on his stomach, his dick.

“Please,” Dylan begged, his voice full of hunger.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want.”

“You…God, I want you, Clay.”

“You have me. I’m yours.” Clay spun him around, and then they were a clash of body parts. Clay lifted him, and Dylan damn near climbed him. Their lips locked together. Dylan’s legs wrapped around Clay’s waist, his arms around Clay’s shoulders.

Calloused fingers rubbed one of his ass cheeks, the other hand against his back.

They were ravenous for each other. Dylan craved him like he was starving, thirsted for him as though he was lost in the desert and Clay was a body of water.

He carried Dylan to the counter and set him on it. Dylan let out a strangled moan as Clay’s tongue dived into his mouth. His lips traveled down Dylan’s neck, his throat. He tried to drop his head backward to give Clay better access, but bumped his head.

Clay laughed against his skin, and a chuckle bubbled in Dylan’s throat as well.

Dylan scooted to the edge of the counter, wrapping his legs around Clay again, heels digging into Clay’s ass as they made out, lived off each other’s air.

“Christ, I want you so fucking bad, it’s burning me alive,” Clay gritted out against his skin.

“Oh God.” Dylan’s cock jerked, leaked. His underwear felt too tight, like he was suffocating inside them.

His hand flew to the counter to clutch it, but he knocked the butter dish to the floor, glass shattering. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t give a shit about that. Just you.” Clay lifted him again.

“Your feet. Be careful.” The last thing he wanted was for Clay to cut up his feet because Dylan was horny and not watching what he was doing.

“I’m not stepping on any glass, believe me. Nothing is coming between us right now.”

“Table! Table!” Dylan replied, not willing to go far.

Clay did as he asked, setting Dylan on the dining-room table. They kissed until Dylan’s jaw ached, but it was the best damn pain he’d ever had. He’d live with it always if the alternative was to stop kissing Clay.

So they kissed some more…and more, and more, until Dylan thought he would lose his mind if he didn’t get to feel Clay inside him. “I want you.”

“Good because I might go crazy if I can’t have you.”

Dylan grinned. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“You know you can have me too if you want.”

Dylan rubbed his thumb against Clay’s nipple, played with his chest hair. It was something he’d be interested in exploring sometime, but mostly he was a bottom and that was all there was to it. “Thank you. I’ll definitely take you up on that, but right now, I just want you inside me.”

“I can do that.”

“I sure hope so.”

With his forefinger and thumb, Clay held his chin, kissed him one more time, and then let his hand slowly…so fucking slowly, journey to Dylan’s chest before easing him backward.

When his back was pressed against the wood of the table, Clay pulled his ass to the edge. Dylan lifted his hips as Clay’s skilled fingers pulled his underwear off and tossed them. His cock dripped precome against his belly, and Clay leaned forward and licked it away, only to have more replace it again.

“Fuck, Clay…please.”

“I’m getting there. Mmm. Your balls are full…tight.” He cupped Dylan’s sac as though testing the weight of it in his hand, and Dylan couldn’t help but arch his back, silently begging for more friction. Clay gave him what he wanted, bending over and tonguing his nuts, licking a trail up Dylan’s shaft until he reached the head.

“You want me to suck it?” Clay asked.

“You’re being a tease.”

“Do you?” he asked before blowing on Dylan’s prick.

“Yes…please…then my hole.”

“Thank God,” Clay replied, and then his lips were sucking Dylan’s cock into his mouth. He took him deep, playing with his balls as he did so. Dylan thrust up, fucking into the hot cavern of Clay’s mouth and biting his tongue so he didn’t blow his load.

When his cock popped out of Clay’s mouth and Clay buried his face between Dylan’s ass cheeks, Dylan cried out and gripped the edges of the small table, feeling dizzy as Clay’s tongue traced his rim, flicked back and forth over it.

He alternated between fingers and tongue, sliding digits into Dylan’s hole and rubbing his prostate. Each time he did, Dylan’s dick twitched, jerked against his belly, dripping precome.

Clay spit on his fingers, fucking two of them into him, and Dylan moved against him, riding his damn hand, mesmerized by how he felt. “More, Clay, I need more.”

He nearly died when Clay pulled away, but then he dropped his sweats, stepped out of them, and stroked his thick cock. He’d used a lot of spit, loosening him up with his fingers and tongue, but Dylan knew it would still be a tight fit. They’d never fucked without lube before.