“Hey, Liam. Back from work?”
Liam freezes, fingers prepped to twist his key in the lock, body breaking out in sparks that send pleasant tingles all throughout his form.
That voice gets him every time, reminding him of home and of the dirty, filthy dreams he’s been having on repeat about hearing it channeling toe-curling sins into his ears.
You love it when I go deep, don’t you, sweetheart?
Have you ever been this full, Li? Have you ever felt it so deep in your guts that you can taste it on the tip of your tongue?
Fuck, you look so hot with my cock pounding your throat, Liam. That’s it. Keep swallowin’. Don’t waste a drop. You know you’d only be punishing yourself if you do.
The words follow him everywhere, his mind somewhere else when he’s leading classes at the gym, hoping they can keep up with him because he’s on a personal mission himself to ensure his body is as desirable as he can make it, regardless of his lack of knowledge of the man’s sexuality.If anything, it might garner Liam some attention elsewhere. It has been a while, after all.
Brock, the epitome of sex on legs, and his new neighbor, entered his life two months ago. The instant Liam saw him, he knew he was a goner. He’s sin incarnate, the devil tempting him with his puffy, pouty lips, star-dusted tanned skin making Liam long to lick the salt off and worship every inch. He has a face that Da Vinci categorised as literal human perfection, and Liam can see why.
Seconds after meeting Brock, Liam had wanted to fall to his knees and beg, if he had to, for just a taste of the man, just for a chance to test his worthiness, for Brock to pull his hard, leaking cock out of his jeans and slap it against Liam’s tongue, tell him to open up his mouth and service him.
And Liam would have, until his jaw was aching, tongue and lips raw from use, puffy and wrung-out. He would have kept going, taking everything that Brock had to give him, not caring about the possibility of Mrs. Preston discovering him with his knees digging into the hallway carpet, lips wrapped around Brock’scock and inhaling him like it’s the only thing keeping the world turning.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Liam had smiled, answered Brock’squestions about the local gym, hot spots in general, the best place to go to get his groceries that was local. Once Brock had thanked him and said he would see him around, Liam clung on to the way his name rolled off Brock’slong, thick tongue, raced into his bedroom, stripped himself, dived on the bed. He proceeded to pump his cock, fingers scooping up a pat of lube and spreading it around his hole, four-fingers deep by the time he was thrusting off the bed and coming all over his stomach, hand, chest, neck, shoulders, face, and even his hair.
The orgasm left him breathless, hungry, eager for something so much more. Something he had denied himself for a long time. He told himself he would get one. Eventually. He had to. It wouldn’t be healthy for him to deprive himself of something that could help him, when the genuine artefact was a question mark.
Liam has one arriving soon, actually. Today. He had it set up to deliver to his door by 6PM, so that he could get himself ready for when it comes. He plans to throw on some tunes, get lost in his head, imagine those hands tracing every inch of him, pressing, pulling, kneading him like dough while bowed-lips suck and lick the sensitive spots on his neck that have him keening.
And then, when he’s good and ready and done with torturing himself, he’ll slip it in, take it to the route, fuck himself as he thinks about Brock above him. He’ll see his legs hooked around Brock’swaist, his body opening up to Brock’slong, thick cock settling inside him, filling him out and up, making him whole.
Liam can’t wait. He’s been driving himself crazy at work all day thinking about it. All week, if he’s being honest. He needs this. He needs this because he’ll lose his mind if he continues to sit alone in his apartment, wondering what it would be like to get Brock’sfingers nice and wet with his mouth, slathering them up until they’re slick enough for Brock to push them inside Liam’s body.
He wants to know what it’s like to be trapped in Brock’swarm, wet throat. Know what it’s like to fist his hands in the sheets while Brock’sdevious tongue teases his hole until it loosens, unlocking for the tip to slide in, each pulse breaching him bit by bit, Liam’s voice wrecked from screaming into the pillow. Know what it’s like to bow his back and let Brock’shot, throbbing cock spear him in the shower, water splashing against his ass with every thrust. Know what it’s like to have thick digits fucking into his mouth at the same time Brock’sturning him inside out on his back on the kitchen table.
What it’s like to bite down on the skin fo Brock’shand while he takes him on the second floor stairs, hand on the rungs to push back on Brock’scock. What it’s like to hold Brock’scock down his throat, hands running up his thighs, over his ass and to his hips to hold on while Brock jerks and tells him to keep holding his breath. What it’s like to sit on the love seat, legs spread while Brock deep-throats him, swallowing everything that comes out of him and continuing to wring him dry until Liam is crying from overstimulation.
“You okay, man?”
Brock’sheat-inducing voice brings Liam back to the here and now, his head turning to regard him and answer his first question. His mouth dries up faster than the planet’s oceans would if the sun decided to get more up close and personal. Brock must have been grabbing something. That’s why his shirt is off, revealing a body that would have Nuns lining up to quit the covenant, and Liam would not blame them at all.
He’s not ripped. He’s not packing well-defined abs, or cut like a diamond. But he’s flawless. His skin is the purest of rose-gold, every inch practically glowing, without the help of the sun starting to retreat into the sky. Smooth, immaculate, mouth-watering, and the current culprit responsible for Liam having to wash his sheets far more so than regular.
Liam has no idea if he managed to keep it discreet, but he rolls with it. “Yeah, man. ‘m fine. What did you think of the game?”
Brock shrugs.
“It was a blowout. Would’a been nice to have some company, to be honest. Might’a made it sting a little less, y’know?”
“I hear you. Although, if you accept neighbours screaming at their TV, you were in good company.”
Brock laughs, and Liam wills himself not to get down on one knee and beg for his hand in marriage, heart beating wildly in his chest as Brock throws his head back and then bends forward with his hands together by his crotch, shoulders rising and falling. Liam doesn’t know if what he said was actually that funny, but if it gets that reaction, he should start writing some shit to spout off because that laugh is now his addiction.
“So that was you giving the running commentary on the game? I thought it might have been. It was far more entertainin’ than that crap fest, I tell ya’.”
“I’m glad you found my frustration so amusing,” Liam replies, trying to remain respectful.
“Maybe we could watch the next one together? I just got a new 50 inch flat screen and a great sound system. I’d appreciate the company, and since you’d be my guest, I’ll even pitch in for the beer and pizza.”
“Pizza and beer? Wow, you really know the way to a man’s heart, huh?”
Brock grins and pats his stomach. “Food and beer. Works every time.”
“Unfortunately, I’m on a diet.”
This seems to confuse Brock, who raises an eyebrow and gestures to him. “You? Dieting? You look great man. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“I work at a gym. Gotta look the part. That means saying no to stuff I love,” Liam replies, looking forlorn.
“I could cook?”
“I couldn’t expect you to do that, and I’m away for the next game, anyway.”
Liam’s not sure, but he thinks he sees disappointment flit across Brock’sface. “Oh, you are? Shame. Real shame. Well, uh, I’ll let you get into your house then. Feel free to swing by anytime you want.”
“Sure. Have a good evening,” Liam says, nodding at him. Brock looks like he’s about to say something else, then he shakes his head and does a cute little half wave that’s going to haunt Liam for the rest of his existence.
Taking in a breath, Liam lets himself into his apartment, a shower in mind and a full cleanout. He intends on a long session and he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of it.
===
Brock slumps onto his couch, legs spread, feet on the floor, head hanging over the backrest. He stares up at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on his knees.
Inviting his handsome neighbor over to watch the game hadn’t gone as he would have liked, which would have been for Liam to say yes, flash him one of those adorable, and sexy, dimpled smiles that make Brock deliriously happy and turn him all the way on at the same time.
The first time he saw one, his stomach about fell out of his ass and he forgot how to count to three. He was smitten from the start. Liam had him at hello, quite literally, and then ruined him for anyone else when he started down the stairs and Brock got an eyeful of his ass in his sweatpants, leaving Brock practically creating a river on the floor with his drool as he watched him walk away, ducking into his apartment soon after to fuck his hand into an orgasm.
Annoyingly for Brock, he doesn’t know if Liam roots for the sisters, solely worships the boys or is a bit of an in between. He hasn’t seen anyone go in and out of his apartment, or even heard him have a conversation that could suggest one or the other. Just phone calls with some friends that sounded remarkably casual. Brock persuaded himself that it wasn’t creepy if he happened to overhear his conversation while pretending to sift through his mail for five minutes or more.
He just needs an in. Something he can see or hear that would give him an indication that Liam could be into what he’s offering, because Brock is certainly into what Liam’s got.
And then some.
A knock sounds from Brock’sdoor then. Hope ripples through him that it might be Liam wanting to hang out, maybe even ride him on his couch or let him blow him on the counter or let Brock lick and eat cream off his gorgeous body.
Well, he’s getting a little ahead of himself. Hanging out with the beautiful man would be enough for him, just to make him laugh and smile and watch him sweep hair out of his eyes, while keeping himself in check, knowing that if he didn’t he would cover those full lips with his and do things with his tongue that are sure to make Liam’s toes curl.
He begrudgingly gets off the couch, thinking about what his next move could be. Liam works at a gym. Brock could quit the one he’s been with for seven years and start going there instead, maybe take some classes that Liam runs, show his stuff.
That sounds reasonable. At least to him.
Brock opens his door and frowns, noticing that the hallway is empty. He looks left and right, then down, spotting a package sitting on the floor. He lowers to a crouch to pick it up, eyes on Liam’s door, longing for him to come outside so they can have an excuse to talk about nothing again.
Clearly, no one is looking out for him because it doesn’t happen. Brock sighs and steps back to shut his door, absent-mindedly tearing the package open as he walks back to his couch.
When the packaging is gone, he wonders to himself if he had been expecting something to arrive today, shrugging it off when a thought occurs to him that it could be a care package from his Mother.
Good ol’ Mom.
He smiles then, contemplating giving her a call when his eyes catch the contents of the box in his hand. Which is not something he would order, for personal use. To use on someone else, like his hot as fuck neighbour? Sure.
Yeah… Liam with his perfect ass presented for Brock to fuck him long and deep with this. This toy. This thick, large toy that Brock’shappy to say doesn’t have him feeling inadequate by comparison.
Actually, it looks to be about his size.
Guess the delivery person dropped it on his doorstep by mistake. Brock should check who it’s for and anonymously drop it off at their door. That’s the right thing to do, he thinks.
Over his shock, he fetches the torn packaging to see who it’s addressed to, eyes going wide and tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth when he discovers that it’s meant for Liam.
Holy shit. A dildo. Liam, his walking wet dream neighbor ordered himself a dildo! This could mean something. This could be the answer that Brock has been searching for. If it is for Liam, gay or not, bi or not, straight or not, he at least has a proclivity to have phallus-like objects rammed up his tight, round ass.
Brock could be getting ahead of himself again. Liam may have bought this for a friend as a gag gift, or because he’s a cool friend who doesn’t bat an eye about buying his friends sex toys.
He’s not certain. But it’s a conversation piece, if anything. A potentially awkward conversation piece, however, but that’s semantics.
Brock tries not to pump his fist and kiss the box in his hand for giving him this excuse to talk to his neighbour.
Oh. Right. He’s supposed to drop it off… anonymously.
…
Screw that! Sometimes a man’s gotta take a leap of faith, and this seems like the right time to do just that. Yeah. It’s not creepy or perverted at all that he wants to see Liam’s reaction when he opens his door and sees Brock holding the package that should be for him, and perfectly willing to offer a package of his own, if he catches his drift.
Brock scolds himself internally, runs to his door, yanks it open and darts across the hallway, knuckles rapping on Liam’s door before he can help himself.
===
When Liam hears knocking coming from his door, he tries not to launch himself at it. He’s perhaps a bit eager to get started, a plethora of fantasies already in his mind featuring his devilishly handsome neighbor prepped and ready to go. He’s clean, inside and out, ready to spend a long, long while taking care of himself for the evening.
He answers the door and his jaw almost hits the floor.
Standing in front of him is Brock… holding a box. A box that contains a dildo. A box that contains the dildo that he ordered and was planning on fucking himself with all night while thinking about the man in front of him.
Oh shit.
Words get caught in his throat. Brock’s standing there, looking far too beautiful for words, box held between his hands, a sheepish grin on his lips as he waves it in the space separating them.
“I, uh, got your mail.”
Liam swallows.
Should he lie? Say that it’s not his? That he’s holding onto it for a friend? Or should he play it cool, say he was waiting for that and then retreat into his house?
Liam’s lost for what to do. The object of his desire is being cradled by the man of his dreams, who’s searching his face for some kind of response, raising one perfect ‘brow and running his tongue over lips that would put the Gods to shame.
“I’m sorry I opened it, man. I wasn’t payin’ enough attention, had other stuff on my mind. Y’know how it is. Thought it might be a care package from my Mom.”
“That’s okay,” Liam replies, dumbly, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “Sorry you had to see it.”
“It’s yours then?” Brock asks, eyes intent on Liam’s. “I didn’t wanna assume anythin’. What you get up to in the privacy of your apartment ain’t any business of mine.”
“Uh… Yeah. It’s mine.” Liam’s face heats. “Sorry, Brock, I’m just a ‘lil embarrassed. It’s not your fault.”
Brock clicks his tongue.
“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about, Liam. Seriously. Y’have every right to do whatever you want in your own home. ‘m not here to judge.”
The genuine way in which Brock says it warms Liam’s heart, his pulse quickening and urge to sign his life away on the dotted line to this man skyrocketing.
“Well, thanks. I appreciate that. ‘m not sure how I would’ve felt about living next to some asshole.”
B
rock snickers and gestures with the box in his hands. “I guess you’ll be needin’ this then,” he says, and winks, single-handedly destroying all of Liam’s brain cells with that one move. “He’s a lucky guy.”
“He?”
“Your friend here.” Brock passes the box and Liam takes it, fingers brushing Brock’s before they’re drawn back, disappearing out of sight into a pair of sweats. “Lucky guy. All ‘m sayin’.”
How is Liam supposed to interpret that? If he was an outsider looking in, he would assume that Brock is suggesting that he would rather be the dildo, and Liam’s not sure that his body can process that information, synapses not firing on all cylinders for love nor money.
“Thanks?” Liam mutters, staring at the package and shifting from foot to foot.
Brock takes a step forward then, and Liam’s breath catches in his throat when his hand lands on the box.
“A really, really lucky guy,” Brock husks, keeping his hand on top of the box, eyes on Liam’s, the green of his irises darkening. “Do you understand what I’m sayin’, Liam?”
In response, Liam stammers something incoherent. “Uh… You… This….”
“I like the sound of that. You, me, and our friend here. Is that somethin’ you’d be into?” Brock replies, lips close enough that Liam could pitch forward and seal them in a lock.
Liam doesn’t realize he’s backing up into his apartment, nor does he hear his door closing behind him, or feel his legs hitting his couch until he’s lowering onto it, Brock’s hand still on the box and his lips even closer than before.
All Liam can think to do is nod, breathing like he ran a marathon, gasping when plump lips blanket his own. It’s soft and sweet at first, then he’s being pushed into the couch, Brock’slips forcing his mouth open, his hot tongue thrusting inside. He tastes him, savors him, climbs the ranks until he reaches the top spot, Liam’s toes curling into the plush carpet, his body flooding with heat as Brock takes him apart with his hungry mouth.
The kiss breaks, leaving Liam bereft, almost. Brock’s lips are shiny with spit and Liam feels as though someone pulled the needle out too early, the high not strong enough to contain him. He needs more. So much more.
“One of the first things I thought about when I saw this was how hot you’d look with it buried deep in your ass,” Brock says, throat vibrating. “I thought about you on all fours for me, just waiting for me to fill your hole with this, again and again,” he adds, running his fingers over the box reverently while breathing hotly in Liam’s ear.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I wanna watch you take it, Liam. I wanna watch you hold on for dear life as I fuck with this over and over. I wanna see your pretty hole clench around it, wanna hear you losin’ your damn mind, your tight, sexy body writhing in pleasure.”
If Liam wore glasses, they would be steaming. Saliva pools in his mouth, his hands clench into fists by his sides and the veins on his neck throb.
“I want that. Please.”
Brock chuckles darkly. “You do, huh? You like the thought of me fucking you with your dildo?”
“God yes. I want it—want you.” Liam shudders when a warm tongue licks up the side of his neck.
“Have done since you moved here.”
“Oh really?” Brock questions, fingers flirting with the bottom of Liam’s t-shirt. He gets the message, lifting his arms to allow Brock to drag it over his head and toss it to the side. “D’ya wanna do this here… Or would you prefer your bedroom?”
“Bedroom,” Liam responds, standing on shaky legs when Brock gives him the space to stand up, heat rushing to his groin as a set of hands settle on his ass and squeeze, then pull him back against a firm body, a prominent, thick erection pressing on his ass. “Holy shit.”
Lips assault the nape of his neck, hands coming around his front and ducking into his sweats to grasp his cock.
“Someone’s excited,” Brock comments, grinding against him, ducking lower to fondle and press on his balls. Liam almost drops the box. “Lead the way… Li.”
The nickname hits his ear like a symphony of angels and Liam doesn’t know how he doesn’t melt into the floor at that very moment.
Liam leads Brock to his bedroom, holding the box in his hands like it’s a gift from the Gods themselves. He feels the air in the room hit his exposed ass, nimble fingers ducking between the crease to feel his hole.
“You were waitin’ for this, huh?” There is no judgment in his tone, and Liam is grateful for it. “Your hole is all nice and loose. I bet we could slot that thing right on in there, no fuss, no muss.”
Liam doesn’t disagree, letting himself be guided onto all fours on his bed, ass pushed out and up for Brock’s inspection.
“You’re so hot, Liam. You must have a line a mile long at the gym of people waitin’ for a chance with ya’,” Brock assumes, arm diving between Liam’s legs to secure the box and open it, unwrapping and testing the weight of the dildo.
Fuck. Liam can hardly wait.
“They don’t do it for me.”
There’s a smile in Brock’s reply. “Yeah? Who does do it for you? Who’s worthy enough to get to find out what makes you tick?”
“Only one person I want doin’ that right now.” He thrusts his ass back, pushing through the blush on his cheeks. “Please, Brock. I’d like to say I’m not too proud to beg, but I’m dyin’ here.”
Brock slaps his ass lightly. “Good things come to those who are patient.”
“Maybe I’m a bad boy who needs a spankin’?” Liam teases, wiggling his ass invitingly. He whimpers when he feels the press of something hard and solid over his hole, just grazing him, up and down, and up and down. Figures that Brock would be a tease.
“God, man, look at you,” Brock breathes, voice sounding shot. “It should be illegal for you to have an ass like this.”
“It should be illegal for you to tease me like that,” Liam shoots back, thrusting his ass back in the hopes that he can penetrate himself with the tip, but Brock must anticipate his desire because the blunt head moves away from him. “Please, man. I need it. Please!”
“My God, you beg so pretty.” Brock sounds on edge, like he’s about one second from exploding. “That’s gonna get me in trouble one of these days.”
Liam decides to take it one step further and twerks his ass, hoping that if he waves himself in Brock’s face enough, he’ll snap and fuck him with the dildo already. Or, better yet, whip his own cock out and fuck Liam senseless, or even fuck him alongside the dildo. His thoughts have him leaking onto the sheets and he’s really not sure if he’ll be sane after tonight.
An almost animalistic, throaty sound comes out of Brock’s mouth, Liam assumes. The head of the dildo spanks his hole and Liam keens, which has Brock doing it again and again, and again, Liam’s cock pulsing with want, his hole fluttering, begging wordlessly for Brock to fill him, stretch him out, make him take it.
“You want it bad, don’t’cha, Li?”
“Yes. Fuck… Please put it in, man. Please, please fuck me.”
“I’d have to be a saint to resist a plea like that,” Brock says, and the head slips into Liam’s ass with ease. It’s not enough. Liam wants all of it. He wants to be stuffed full. He wants to forget his own name. He wants to only be able to think about his anal walls expanding to accommodate the girth of his new toy, so Brock can see how easy he can take it, how easy he could take him if Brock wants that. “Look at how desperate your hole is for it.”
“More. Please! I can take more,” Liam begs, thighs quivering, chest heaving. Brock pushes another couple of inches in, stealing Liam’s next breath as he aims down and drags along his prostate. Teeth sink into his lip, his chest drops to the sheets and his eyes roll back in his head, moans ripped from his throat. “Fuck yes. Oh god. Oh fuck. Fuck me, please. Harder. I need it!”
“Greedy ‘lil hole you got here. Look how you just take it, like you were made for it,” Brock praises, burying the toy six inches deep, twisting, turning, pressing. Liam forgets how to breathe for a moment. “Mmm. I love watching it just feed your hole. I’m jealous. I bet you’re nice and hot and tight inside.”
“Oh my God,” Liam whines, snagging a strip of sheet between his teeth and groaning.
The dildo bottoms out inside him then, sheet released on a gasp. He starts nuzzling his face into the bed like a cat in heat, back arching, ass clenching, toes curling, arms spreading out on the bed, gripping onto the sides of his mattress as Brock keeps pushing and pushing, not giving Liam a second to catch his breath. It’s already buried balls deep but Brock’s hand won’t stop pushing it, lifting the end up and down, making Liam’s cock blurt another pea-sized drop of pre-come, whole body whirring with want and need and desire to never let this moment end.
“Fuck, you look good with your ass stuffed, Liam. Hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen in my life, I swear.” Brock pulls the toy back until the head is resting inside him, and Liam’s mind implodes as he punches it back into the root, almost violently. “I wish you could see this, how your ass just swallows the toy up. It’s making me so jealous that it’s not my cock in there.”
Liam isn’t able to respond, his ability to comprehend words going out the window with the next hard thrust. He forgets the date of his Mamma’s birthday on the next. His Papa’s on the following. Basic math gets catapulted into the ether when Brock rams the toy in a fourth time, and by the fifteenth pulse, Liam’s not even sure he still exists.
“I wanna see you hanging on the end of my cock, wanna feel you all around me, Li, your hungry hole just swallowin’ me up,” Brock husks, starting up a brutal pace of fucking the toy in and out of him, Liam’s breaths coming out in illegible stutters that sound more like a boxer training for their title match.
He narrowly avoids the urge to cry when he’s suddenly left empty, struggling to look over his shoulder to assess what’s happening. He glimpses Brock carelessly getting himself out of his bottoms, launching them across the room with his foot, his cock heavy and proud between his legs.
“Oh fuck. Yes. Please, Brock! Please fuck me. I need it so bad,” Liam moans, head twisting this way and that, hips rolling, enticing, begging for Brock to take the place of the toy. Two hands come down hard on his ass, eager fingers spreading his cheeks obscenely.
“You got any condoms?” There’s hesitancy in his tone, like he’d really rather not use protection, like he wants to feel all of Liam, unencumbered by a layer of plastic, and fuck if Liam doesn’t want that, too.
“I’m clean. Please. Just fuck me.”
There’s a pause, and Liam presumes that Brock is contemplating whether or not the risk is worth it.
“Nope. You’re too hot an ass and too beautiful a guy to pass on,” Brock states, apparently over his internal conflict, the tip of his cock teasing Liam’s hole and making him pant with need. “Jesus. Not even in you yet and you’re in a frenzy.”
“Please. Oh, please. Oh, please, please, please just fuck me. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” Liam thanks whoever is listening when Brock buries himself to the hilt inside him in one, quick snap that already blows every person he’s had inside him out of the water.
“I love a man who knows his p’s and q’s,” Brock says, massaging the curve of his long back. “My God, you feel incredible.” He hisses. “So tight. So fuckin’ hot. Shit, man, give me the rundown on the rent, because I live here now.”
That doesn’t sound like a bad thing to Liam at all. Brock’s long, thick, blood-filled cock spearing him, settled deep in his ass, filling him out. Every small jerk of his hips has Liam drooling and adding another cum stain to his sheets. His legs keep shifting, fidgeting, a drawn-out moan feeling as though it’s traveling from the base of his spine and out of his mouth, Brock’s cock playing him like a viola.
Brock sucks in a breath, pulls his hips back and fucks in, hard, pushing Liam up the bed. He loses it, head thrown back, body twisting and writhing, cock brushing the bed-spread, begging for release.
Brock fucks like they’re running out of time, like they’ve only got 21 seconds to flow before the world collapses in on itself and they’re all wiped from existence.
It’s desperate. It’s needy. It’s oh so good, Brock’s hands ensnaring his hips, thighs pummelling him, balls pounding his ass. Liam’s pecs bounce from the force of Brock’s thrusts, his throat vibrates, his eyes get lost in the back of his head, his ass ripples, the wave surging up to the nape of his neck and rising the fine hairs all over his body.
“So good. So full. I love it. Please don’t stop.”
Brock slaps his ass, holds on tighter and fucks even harder, Liam’s moans breaking off, never quite managing to permeate the room, overwhelmed by the sheer impact of Brock’s body crashing into his like cars colliding in a grand derby.
Liam feels heady, his vision spotting, his cock angry and red along the sheets, begging for some much-needed release. But he doesn’t want to come yet. He spasms around the mass inside him, Brock’s cock pounding into him, loosening his walls like the teeth on a jacket detaching with every drag of the zipper.
“Jesus Christ. ‘m close, Li. Too hot. Too tight. Too fuckin’ good, man.” Brock squeezes his hips and bottoms out in his channel, rolling his hips sinfully. “I never wanna stop fuckin’ your sweet ass, Liam. Just wanna spend the rest of my days buried inside your warm, tight heat. Would you like that?”
“I’d love it,” Liam admits, tears pricking at his eyes from the lucid, deep plunges of Brock’s cock that leave him breathless. “Don’t want this to end.”
“Good thing ‘m quick to recover then,” Brock replies. “Think you can come, just like this, Li? I wanna feel your hole tighten around my cock as you spill your load.”
Liam keens. “Yes. Yes, I can. Fuck, can I? Please? Oh, god, please!”
“Holy shit, you’re somethin’ else. Yeah. Come on. Wanna feel it. Come for me.” Liam clamps down on Brock’s cock then, balls drawing up, body shaking as he sprays hot and thick, potent strips of cum onto his sheets, crying out Brock’s name, begging for him to finish inside him. “Mmm. God, sweetheart. That’s it. Let it all out. You want my come, Liam? You want me to fill your greedy ass?”
In answer, Liam flexes around him again, pitches forward and slams back, panting for breath as he fucks himself back on Brock’s cock and drinks in the stuttered moans, his name snapping off Brock’ slips, the first spurt of cum pumping out into his anal cavity, marring him, giving him the cream he’s been desperate for.
“Shit. Oh, shit,” Brock grunts, fingers biting Liam’s skin now, potentially littering him with a set of bruises that he’ll cherish until they fade, hoping that Brock will give him more of the same, mark his body all over with memories of him. “You’re amazin’, Li. Your ass… Fuckin’ crafted by the Gods, I tell ya’.”
Liam’s not sure he knows how to produce words anymore, wrung out, sated, born anew with Brock’s cock spurting rope after rope of cum inside him. He feels content, complete, like he could die right now and have no regrets because he got to experience this.
Even once.
He whines when Brock slips free from him, his body still, unable to move, hole clenching to keep every bit of Brock in him that he can.
“Turn over for me,” Brock says, assisting Liam onto his back, soft lips descending on his own for a brief kiss. “The image I had of you in your head does you no justice, Liam. Absolutely beautiful. How the fuck are you single?”
“I could ask you the same,” Liam replies when he’s finally got a grasp on his mental faculties, cheek leaning on Brock’s hand. “I was just waitin’ for your partner to turn up at some point and put me out of my misery.”
“I don’t know if I like that I can honestly say I would drop them like a hot potato after seein’ you, had I been with anyone,” Brock tells him, kissing his lips again, thumb settling on his bottom lip, eyes hard and determined as he stares at him. “I knew the second I saw ya’ that I was a goner.”
Liam smiles at that, covers Brock’s hand with his own, strokes his wrist, and says, “That makes two of us.”
FIN
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