Grown Men (15 page)

He did something to my heart—

A third time Runt carefully slid his digit back out and then reseated it while Ox plundered his ass with exquisite, patient pressure. Their bodies strained together in unexpected harmony.

—so he can live there.

Without warning, Runt’s hardness sprayed seed over the whorls of honey hair that covered Ox’s chest and belly
. Thitt-splat.
He bellowed and hissed as his ass clamped down on that amazing thumb planted in his fundament. The rough pad nailed his gland while he squealed and shook. Ox’s long fingers wrapped and cupped one cheek, holding him up and probably leaving a bruise that would make Runt happy later.

Stunned, Runt watched his load run down Ox’s torso; a few drops slid, slow and sweet, down his hand and onto Ox’s quivering shaft where his finger was still half-buried.

Gasping with hunger, Ox held Runt’s hand steady and drove his bull cock up onto the invading finger
.
His eyes widened as his brows twisted in panic. He snapped his hips, once, etching his abs in stark relief to force his rod right up to Runt’s knuckles, skewering himself.

Runt yanked his finger out just in time for hot coils of Ox’s semen to arc and fall, arc and fall. Ox arched like a bridge and pushed back into the bedding to pump a molten wad over both of them and their bed and probably the habitat ceiling.

Gooey mutant fireworks.

Runt laughed and Ox laughed and pulled the smaller man down, sliding the rich semen between them.

Grown wild. Look at us.

For a few moments, they lay together panting and catching their breath. Then Runt heard something, felt something under his ear. He pressed closer, cheek against Ox’s crisp chest hair in the chiseled valley between his pectorals.

“Runnan.” Ox’s voice was a subsonic rumble, felt more than heard. He spoke slowly, with excruciating effort. So low it was less a sound than a strange vibration like the ocean underground. “Runnan.”

Runt stayed very still, his eyes wide and shining, listening with every millimeter of his body. It was the most beautiful thing he’d never heard.

“Runnan.” The big man held him and stroked his back while Runt strained to hear and feel the hard-won word, holding him too close to miss a moment.

Ox pressed lips to the top of his head and then his briny mouth.

Our seed
.

Runt kissed his chest, and above him, Ox nodded once. That was answer enough. If they hadn’t already, they’d find a way to love each other.

The world grows with us.

Out on the edge of the universe, they had time and space enough for everything they wanted.

Hot Head (Dreamspinner Press)

Damon Suede grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America, and escaped as soon as it was legal. Having lived all over (Houston, New York, London, Prague), he’s earned his crust as a model, a messenger, a promoter, a programmer, a sculptor, a singer, a stripper, a bookkeeper, a bartender, a techie, a teacher, a director . . . but writing has ever been his bread and butter.

Though new to M/M, Damon has been a full-time writer for print, stage, and screen for two decades. He has won some awards, but counts his blessings more often: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his silly, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year. Damon would love to hear from you; you can get in touch with him at:

Website:
www.DamonSuede.com
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