Unwrapping Hank (17 page)

“It’d be more comfortable with these off,” I said, fingering the waistband of his jeans. He took a shaky breath and shoved them off, leaving his briefs on.

And then, because it was chilly, I lay down and pulled the blanket over us.

We made out, body-to-body for the first time. I wriggled out of my pj bottoms in short order, so I could feel his bare legs against mine. It was heaven. It was perfect—his mouth, the solid feel of his body, the warmth and rusticity of our nest. It got even better when he rolled me onto my back and lay on top of me. His prick was hard and heavy against my hip through both our briefs. Christ.

Sex had never felt quite like this, like I craved someone so much I just wanted to absorb them into my skin, like I wanted it to last forever because any moment not touching them was a waste of time. It was a little overwhelming. I wasn’t sure I was ready for anything as heavy as love, and if this wasn’t that yet, it had the potential to be.

Hank’s elbows were on either side of my head, and he gazed down into my face. When had he stopped kissing me? My prick throbbed against his stomach, begging for attention.

“I’m not really sure… what do you want?” he asked tentatively.

And I remembered that he’d never been with anyone like this.

“Everything,” I said, my voice gravelly. “But since it’s Christmas and you’ve been such a very good boy, you should choose. We can use our hands or maybe mouths.” I pulled up one of his hands and sucked the tip of his index finger into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. He drew in a sharp gasp and dug his prick into me. “Or… we can just do this.” I released his hand and moved down to hold his hips, rocked up into him so that we ground against each other. Damn, that felt good. Honestly, it wouldn’t take much.

“I won’t last like that,” he said, lying on me more solidly to stop me from moving.

“You don’t have to. We can do more later.”

“I know. And I want it all eventually, but….” There was something in his eyes, something he wanted, a lot.

“Tell me.”

He looked abashed, though he tried to tough it out. “Remember when you gave me a backrub?”

“Yeah.”

“That. Only… naked.”

“Oh, you kinky boy,” I teased.

He really looked embarrassed.

“I’m kidding. I’d love that. Let me get on top.”

We shuffled around until he was on his stomach. I took off his briefs, marveling at the wonder that was Hank’s naked derriere. It was plump and rounded, hairless and smooth. Fuck, I wanted to eat it.

“You too,” he croaked, looking over his shoulder.

I took off my briefs. There was no way to hide how ripe and eager I was.

“God,” Hank breathed as he stared at me. He shut his eyes as if getting himself under control. “On me.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but I straddled his back as I had that night. I pulled the top blanket up around my shoulders.

It felt decadent, sitting on Hank’s lower back naked, my balls making contact with his skin, and the curve of his delectable ass rising up against my perineum.

“You have brilliant ideas,” I said, rocking back and forth.

He wriggled slightly as if he just couldn’t help it. “Wanna feel it.”

I leaned forward and rubbed my stiff prick against the bare skin of his gorgeous back. Damn, that looked so hot, and it felt good too. His back was muscled, making his spine more of a grove, particularly when he flexed as he was doing now to get more contact. I moved my hands up to lock fingers with him and shifted my hips back so I was partially lying on him. The muscles in his shoulders and arms rippled. I rubbed myself against him all over, my chest lifted up so I could see it. He lay with his head turned to the side, his eyes closed.

“
Oh God,
” he whispered, sounding as turned on as I was. Then, “Lower.”

“Wish we had some lotion,” I panted, as I shifted back to run my about-to-burst prick along the cleft of his ass.

He pulled his right hand away from mine and felt around under the bale of hay at the head of the blanket. He brought out a bottle and tossed it at me. It was lube, a brand new bottle.

I barked a laugh. “Jesus, prepared much?”

“Don’t stop,” he said, sounding desperate.

So I flipped the bottle open—the little paper insert was already removed. Note to self: never underestimate the foresight of Hank Springfield. I squeezed some over his lower back and ass, enjoying the sensation of my slick hands squeezing and rubbing that meaty flesh.

He pushed his ass up. “Sloane.”

I wrapped a hand around my ridiculously hard length to oil it and then lay back on him, fitting myself in the top of his crack.

“Fuck,” I said as I thrust against him.

“Feels good. Feels so good. Sloane…”

I answered by lying completely on top of him so I could lick and nuzzle his neck and the border of his beard where he shaved it.
Thrust, thrust. Pause because I have to. Thrust again because I can’t help it, feels too amazing.

I shifted minutely lower, embedding myself more deeply. He spread his legs wider. I thought I felt his opening against the base of my shaft. My balls slapped lightly against his with my thrusts. I wondered briefly if he was getting as much out of this as I was, but I could feel the tension in his thighs, the harsh pants and low sounds of pleasure in his throat. His hips were busy circling and grinding against me, and thus against the blanket under him.

“Don’t come,” I said, forcing myself to stop.

He lay there shaking. “Why not?”

“Because the first time you come with me, I want it to be in my mouth, or at least where I can see it.”

He lay still as we both tried to climb back from the edge.

“Will you… will you rub it against me?”

That’s what I had been doing, but I knew he meant something different this time. I had no words, I pulled myself upright a bit and put my hand on my prick. The sight of him laid out and oily, legs spread, made me groan.

“You’re sex on legs. You know that, right?”

He pushed his ass up in the air. “Then do it.”

Dear God, he was going to kill me. That muscled, tattooed body, that gorgeously butch man, presenting himself to me like that.

“You’re ruining me for anyone else, damn it,” I whispered. I tilted my hips forward and rubbed my head against his hole. I tried to do it lightly, just teasing, the way his light touches drove me crazy. He held still for that for about ten seconds, then he raised up on his elbows so he could look over his shoulder and watch me. We both stared, mesmerized.

“Harder,” he urged.

I circled around his hole with more pressure, around the outside, and then sliding right over the center.

“There,” he said. “Right there.”

I jiggled myself against him, almost ready to come at the sight, at what he was asking for. “God, Hank! I can’t.”

“Please.” He pushed back into me hard.

My head penetrated just a little, just the very tip.

We both stopped, a bit shocked.

“Hank… we can’t… if we…”

He reached under the hay bale in front of him again and brought out a few packs of condoms. “Do it, please. I want it.”

“Are you sure? We can just—”

“Fuck, Sloane,
I want it
.” His voice was desperation-edged anger, like I was trying to deny him air.

“Okay, okay.” I’d only done this a few times before, with a guy I dated in high school. I’d topped twice and bottomed once. But mostly, we didn’t have the space or leisure to get that nitty gritty. I picked up one of the packets, my hands shaking so bad I could barely tear it open.

Goddamn, I couldn’t believe Hank wanted this. But he did.
He really did.

I managed to get the condom on somehow, and I poured some lube into my palm, slathered it on the condom and then poured a generous amount on my fingers. I rubbed the oil against him, causing him to moan and circle his hips, but when I tried to press in a finger, he stopped me.

“No. Don’t want that. Want you.”

“Hank, I need to open you up.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I want it just like you did it before. Just… like it’s… like it’s almost an accident. A little at a time.”

I blinked. For a guy who hadn’t done this before, he sure knew what turned his crank. But then, he obviously had a very good imagination.

“Did you… did you think about me doing this after I rubbed your back?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

Oh good lord. I couldn’t even think about that right now or I’d lose it.

So I did what he asked. I lay back on top of him and rubbed myself in his crack. The condom dulled the pleasure a little, thank God, because I was already close to coming. The oil made everything so slick. I pulled my hips back and dipped my prick down. It caught on his rim and held there as I rocked, gently.

“Oh.” Hank sounded like he was dying. I definitely was. He pushed back against me, and I felt that small breach again, wiggled there, pulled back.

Moment by moment, brush by brush, we teased and baited, my prick sinking a little further every time. He was tight as anything, but I didn’t push hard enough to worry about hurting him, and I could feel him slowly opening up, grasping for me. I paused once to pour a little more oil over everything, and then, then, the top inch of me was inside him and I slowly sank home.

“Oh, Jesus, that’s incredible,” I said, buried to the hilt, and panting into his neck.

“I want this… every day,” Hank said through gritted teeth.

I snorted into his nape. “A bottom is born.”

“Hey, figure out what floats your boat and own it. Now come on, Frenchie. Show me what you got.”

So I did. I thrust, trying my best to get an angle that grazed his prostate. I’d read you should aim for the other guy’s belly button, from the inside, and that’s what I did. I must have been successful, because Hank was muttering a steady stream of
oh gods
, and grunts, and tiny, strangled screams that made it extremely challenging to hold back my orgasm.

“I’m there,” Hank said suddenly. “Fuck me hard.”

But I meant what I’d said earlier. I wanted in on that action. I pulled at his hips until he moved onto his hands and knees and then I reached around and took him in hand. Oh yeah, he was close. He felt like he was about to explode—rock hard, dripping pre-cum, and jerking at my first touch. I slammed into him, using the momentum of my own thrusts to push his cock in and out of my fist.

“Sloane!” Hank shouted, and I felt the wet heat of semen coating my hand.

Another thrust and I followed, curving over his back. And for a moment, Hank and I, we flew.

We dozed, curled in our little nest. Our little nest that smelled of hay and man and cows and sex. It was a fetish in the making, and the best Christmas of my life. I thought that just before I fell asleep. Hank’s warm smooth back and thighs were pressed up against me as tightly as possible. He was much more satisfying to spoon than Grinch, though I’d never tell the dog that.

It couldn’t have been very long afterward when there was a bang on the door of the hay stall, or whatever you called what we were in.

Hank sat up. I moved to find my clothes, suddenly picturing being ‘caught out’, but Hank grabbed my arm and held up a finger.
Wait
.

“Boys?” It was Hank’s dad.

Hank and I looked at each other, horrified.

“Don’t come in, Dad!” Hank said.

“Believe me, I won’t,” Karma said with a vocal shiver. “Just… I have, um, condoms and lube.” And in a mutter. “Your mother made me.”

I put a hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh out loud.

“I’ll just leave them right outside the door then, shall I?” Kar sounded resigned to humiliation.

“Okay. Thanks.” Hank said loudly.

We heard Karma walk away and the barn door close.

Hank and I howled with laughter.

       ~Epilogue~

Hank

MICAH and I were already in the car, waiting for Sloane to finish saying good-bye to Grinch. That dog could pull one hell of a tragic face, and he had Sloane about ready to cry when he offered a trembling paw too.

Micah snorted. “He’s going to be the most manipulated vet ever.”

“Yup,” I said with absolute conviction.

Micah continued to watch Sloane in the side mirror. I cleared my throat. “I’ve been wanting to ask—did you just come on to Sloane because you were doing a reverse psychology thing with me? Trying to make me jealous?”

Micah turned around in the driver’s seat and studied me. “Now that he’s your boyfriend, I plead the fifth on that one.”

“So yes, you really wanted to hook up with him?”

“Let’s just say, it was a win-win whichever way it went.”

I considered that calmly. “You ever touch him, it’ll wreck us.” I was only partially kidding.

Micah snorted. “You know I love you, Holden, and I would never, ever do that to you. I promise you, Sloane…” Micah looked serious. “Sloane is dead to me now.”

I laughed. “He’d better be. So… you still curious?”