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After a half nuzzle, half scrub of the excess spit onto the back of Luca’s shirt, he relented and returned the kiss, both sniggering.
“Idiot,” said Luca.
“Come on,” said Artair, beaming. “You love it.”
The bigger man slid a hand against Luca’s chest as their tongues entwined, holding him tight. Luca melted into the sheer strength of his grip and the bulk of his arm. Into the heft of the chest and belly pressing down against his back. Taking him in. Wrapping him in sweaty, manly warmth.
The embrace was as welcoming as hot chocolate on a cold winter evening.
But that tender moment didn’t last long, given the slab that was soon poking against Luca’s ass. And it was made even more lurid when Artair’s hand trailed down Luca’s belly, finally finding his aching cock.
Luca inhaled sharply, his half-closed eyes slamming open as the flat of Artair’s thumb slid beneath his slick foreskin.
The groan came low from Luca, his cock aching for more of the gooey sensation. After all the expert teasing, without showing his dick any direct attention, Artair’s grip was such a quick contrast that it set Luca’s whole body on fire.
Artair’s grin got even wider at his reaction.
“Oh, fuck,” Luca whispered, shaking against Artair’s embrace as his foreskin was rolled back. The sweet sensation bounced from his cock head to his balls and up into his stomach. A rumble of bliss and impatience. A mainline cable of heat to his prostate, now begging for some direct attention. “You’re, oh God, you’re so good at that!”
“How could I not be? When you’re so wet for me,” Artair whispered. “Do you always make this much?”
“Not this much,” Luca said, shaking as Artair deliberately sped up his stroke while he was in the middle of speaking.
“So I should take it as a compliment?”
Luca looked back at him—so big and husky and so unbelievably good at what he was doing. “You have no fucking idea.”
Artair leaned in and licked Luca’s earlobe. His grip was drenched now. “I’ve got some idea.”
Luca groaned at his expert tongue, once again finding just the right spot to make him hard and soft all at once. “Do you know what makes me even wetter?”
“Tell me!” Artair demanded, kissing him again. Harder this time. Encouraging his filthy mind. “It’s so fucking hot.”
Luca reached back and hooked his thumbs into Artair’s sweats.
The ginger bear grunted approvingly—at the sexiness of a boy who just needed a cock in him. At the sexiness of the boy who needed his cock in him. “You can’t wait for it, can you?”
Instead of responding, Luca pulled the sweats down, having to maneuver them over Artair’s impossibly hard dick.
“Jesus,” Luca whispered, looking over his shoulder and marveling at Artair’s sudden exposure.
“You like?” said Artair, biting back a sly grin. He slowly moved his hips, rubbing himself against Luca’s cheeks.
Like didn’t cover it. Artair had, quite simply, the prettiest cock that Luca had ever seen. Six-and-a-half inches and thick as a beer can. The shaft was perfectly smooth, transitioning from milky white to pastel pink at his high and tight circumcision. The head was bulbous and shiny and begging to be licked, wider than the shaft but still in stunning proportion.
And all of that was set against pure man. His ginger pubes were untrimmed and wild, encasing a set of big balls, heavy with lust. Even from here, Luca could smell the man underneath, musty and reeking of full nuts.
Artair increased his thrusting against Luca’s ass cheeks, forcing the sensation of just how solid he was. “And what do want me to do with it, huh? Do you want me to slide it slowly between?—”
At that, Luca finally snapped.
He knew that Artair would happily tease him all night long. Take each step with aching slowness until dawn broke, delaying their climax, driving him wild for hours and hours, before finally giving him the deepest and most drawn-out release.
And at other times, he would have craved that. Demanded it, even.
But not now.
Not after the last hour.
