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“Yes, Turner. God, Turner. Fuck, Turner.”

I loved it all. I loved the feel of him and the taste of him. I loved knowing that he was propped up, looking at me. I loved the words coming out of his mouth, and I loved when he could no longer form words, those grunts and moans and then, damn it, that fucking hum, over and over and over until his words returned.

“I’m gonna come.”

I even loved the ache I felt in my own throbbing cock, the almost unbearable desire for release, the pulsing feel of the clear liquid forcing its way out of me. I wrapped one hand around the base of Dalton’s member and one around my own, moaning in relief and ecstasy around Dalton as I began to stroke myself. The vibrations caused him to thrust up again, and I nodded, encouraging him to take what he needed. I sped up, my head and hands moving as he rocked his hips. He stilled right before he came. I looked up, straining my eyes toward him as I slowed down, still sucking him as his head dropped back, and he came silently, his hair falling in a curtain behind him.

I pulled off slowly, mesmerized by his flushed neck and chest, watching as he heaved in heavy breaths, his nipples still taut and red.

“My God, Dalton,” I said, my tone sounding like the prayer that it was.

I still held myself in one hand, but I had become quite distracted. I let go and moved up his body. We’d touched and kissed and sucked, but in that moment, the desire to be touching him everywhere was overwhelming.

My legs straddling one of his, my cock leaked onto his thigh as I hovered over him once more. I kissed his neck, marveling at the shade of red he had turned. He was beautiful.

My kisses traveled until I landed behind his ear.

“Lie back,” I whispered. He looked between us.

“But …” I simply shook my head no.

“Lie down.” He did then, showing off those muscles by slowly lowering his back to the floor.

I had fooled around with many men in college, and the kind of encounter we’d just had would have been perfect then, a little kissing, a little sucking, and a little getting off. I’d have jacked off over the guy and been on my way back when I was hooking up. But with Dalton, the desire to rest my head on his chest, draw one leg over his, and wrap him in my arms was all-consuming.

I did just that, and Dalton’s big arms found their way around me immediately. We laid there for a few minutes, our breathing slowing as I listened to his heartbeat, my head rising and falling with each breath.

I could have stayed just like that despite how uncomfortable the tarp was underneath our naked bodies. Eventually, I snuggled tighter into Dalton and was about to apologize even though it might have meant us getting up from that floor, from that position. It might have meant the end of that moment, that stolen hour. And I didn’t know what came next, but I couldn’t envision anything positive.

Only Dalton didn’t let me get the words out. He used those big arms to turn us, the tarp crinkling until we were both on our sides, facing each other. I smiled and opened my mouth to try again, but he stole my words with a fiery kiss, pulling back just long enough to remind me, “You haven’t come, yet.” His lips were back on me, and if I could have focused on much besides his tongue in my mouth and his big hand finding my cock, I might have noticed that Dalton was getting hard again too.

Suddenly, I was aching with desire once more. My head arched back after just a few strokes of Dalton’s hand. My cock began to leak, and he swiped at it, using that little bit of moisture to ease his way up and down, up and down my cock, squeezing and stroking until I began to lose all control, and I rocked and writhed against him.

“That’s it, Turner. Come for me.” I felt it then; he was rocking and thrusting right along with me, his cock brushing against mine, and his own hand, dropping slick moisture on my thigh with each rock.

I wanted to grab for it, but I wanted more to keep my arms wrapped tight around him, my hand in his hair keeping our lips locked, the other digging into his back. He chased my lips when I pulled back slightly to say, “Both. Grab them both.”

He caught on and frantically drew our two cocks together, moaning almost immediately.

“Oh God, Turner.”

“Can you do it? Can you come for me again? Please, Dalton, make us …” That’s all I got out before the world went cloudy, my eyes unfocused. Silent except for the curses I shouted, the screams, the Lord’s name taken in vain.

It had been a long, long time since I’d let loose like that. Could we be heard next door? Or from the boardwalk? Did I care?

“My God, Turner,” he whispered reverently, directly into my ear, his warm breath caressing me. He let go of my still-hard cock and continued to jerk himself off, wrapping his leg tightly around me and using my thigh, his head tucked into the crook of my neck, his hot breath huffing out with each thrust. Eventually, he sat up, straddling me, and we both watched as ropes of cum escaped him and splattered my chest to the sound of Dalton saying, “My God, Turner,” over and over again.

He dropped on top of me, the two of us a sweaty mess, and I loved the feel of his weight. He adjusted so that he was the one wrapped around me, one leg and one arm slung over me, holding me tight.

My mind started to race, thinking about all the reasons why having Dalton Garner wrapped around me was a bad idea, but I stopped it all with another probably-bad idea.

“Come upstairs with me?”

His head popped up quickly from where it rested on my shoulder.

“I could make us dinner and …”

“Yes!” Instead of getting up, Dalton snuggled back in and sighed. I wrapped my arms tighter in response, but after a minute or so, I said, “This tarp is really uncomfortable.”