The bed shifted and RT’s solid weight moved closer, and that was when Z felt RT’s rigid dick pressing against his thigh.
“This is a lot fucking harder than I thought,” Z told RT as quietly as he could. His voice was rough with the ache quickly building inside him.
“A lot harder,” RT agreed, his hand sliding along Z’s thigh until it rested on the ridge of Z’s erection. RT’s hips moved, his cock sliding against Z’s leg.
“Ryan.” There was no way Z would be able to resist him if he continued, and overpowering RT—as hot as that idea made him—didn’t seem like the appropriate response.
“Shh.”
Shh? How the fuck was Z supposed to be quiet when RT was sliding his warm hand—son of a motherfucking bitch—beneath the waistband of Z’s shorts.
RT’s heavy thigh slid over Z’s, his rough palm gripping Z’s cock firmly, skin to fucking skin. Z sucked in air, unsure how he was going to survive this. He’d had plenty of fantasies about being with RT—some far more erotic than this—but never had he thought it would happen again. Not this soon, anyhow.
Of their own volition, Z’s hips began to buck, his cock sliding back and forth in RT’s fist. The fragile grip that he still had on his control slipped another notch. Z twisted to his side, continuing to grind his dick against RT’s palm, then slamming his mouth over RT’s.
It sucked that he had to hold back the moans that were desperate to escape, but he had no idea how thin the walls were, and he certainly wasn’t interested in having company in the middle of the best fucking hand job he’d ever received.
RT’s tongue thrust into Z’s mouth, mimicking the smooth motion of his hand. Air was quickly becoming scarce, and Z had to pull back, panting as his body soared from the pleasure of RT’s touch.
Suddenly RT stopped, Z’s cock slipping from RT’s grip, and Z nearly cried. The bed shifted once again, the blankets disappearing from his body before his shorts were being tugged down his hips, his dick springing free from the confining cotton.
“Ryan,” Z pleaded in a rush. “We can’t…” That thought quickly died when RT’s mouth encircled the sensitive head of his dick. He grunted as his hips jerked forward, driving him into the sweet cavern of RT’s mouth. “Oh, fuck… Oh fuck... Oh fuck... Ryan… Oh fuck.” Somehow—he had no idea how—he managed to keep the words so soft he doubted RT even heard them.
RT’s lips were wrapped perfectly around his dick, his tongue gliding expertly along his shaft while his fingers kneaded his balls in a way that had Z damn near swallowing his own tongue. He wanted to come. He wanted to hold off. He fucking wanted. That was all there was to it. The thought of returning the favor and drawing RT’s cock into his mouth had him huffing, his chest rising and falling, his heart pounding.
His hands slid into RT’s soft hair, holding him steady as Z did his best to hold himself back. With a soft pop and no warning, Z’s dick sprang from RT’s mouth, and he sucked in another breath.
“Come for me,” RT whispered, his warm breath fanning the head of Z’s dick. “Come in my mouth, Z.”
Nodding like a freak, Z closed his eyes, dug the back of his head into the pillow as RT’s skilled mouth went to work on him again. He tightened his grip on RT’s hair, knowing he was likely causing RT pain but unable to help it. He couldn’t cry out, which meant he was wound so tightly, his body coiling in on itself as his balls drew up against his body, his insides tingling, his abs contracting.
Breath rushed in and out of his lungs as he held on for as long as he could, but then he hit the point of no return when RT took him to the root, his throat gripping the sensitive, swollen head of Z’s cock.
Z came in a rush, his body jerking uncontrollably while he kept a firm hold on RT’s hair, forcing him to take all of him, though he knew RT wasn’t trying to pull away.
Still attempting to regain some semblance of himself, Z urged RT toward him, locking his mouth on RT’s when he was close enough. The kiss was languid and unhurried, though Z’s heart was still trying to beat its way out of his chest.
When he got himself under control once more, he pulled back from RT, peering at him, though it was still too dark to see him.
“I promised,” Z whispered, feeling somewhat guilty for letting things get so out of control.
“But I didn’t,” RT replied.
Well, Z couldn’t very well argue with that logic, now could he?
RYAN HADN’T EXACTLY PLANNED FOR that to happen, but the moment he was in bed next to Z, he’d been desperate to touch him, to taste him, to see what else it took to send the man over the edge. The only thing he’d had to go on was that one incredible night a couple of weeks ago, and it wasn’t nearly enough. There was so much more of Z he wanted to explore, so many things he wanted to do to him. And Ryan wanted to learn his breaking point.
And now he knew.
He lingered against Z’s mouth, kissing him as the hard thump of Z’s heart beat against Ryan’s chest. But when Z tried to reach between their bodies, apparently in an attempt to return the favor, Ryan shifted his hips away.
“Nuh-uh,” Ryan whispered.
“Bullshit,” Z growled against his mouth, the sheer strength in Z’s arm too much for Ryan.
When Z’s firm hand clasped Ryan’s aching dick, he inhaled sharply. There was no pain, only pure, undiluted pleasure that gripped him in the same way as Z’s physical touch.
“My turn,” Z informed him, keeping his voice low.
“You promised,” Ryan returned, smiling in the dark, his eyes rolling back in his head as he indulged in the gratification that came from Z’s hand stroking him.
“That was before you gave me the best blow job of my fucking life.”
Ryan wanted to argue, but Z began shoving Ryan’s shorts down his hips, and the idea of Z touching him was more than he could resist.
Climbing off Z, Ryan managed to shed his shorts, tossing them aside while Z continued to fumble with Ryan’s dick in the dark. When he was naked, Z surprised the hell out of him, jerking him forward, causing Ryan to lose his balance as he reached for the headboard, managing to keep himself from falling only to find that he was hovering over Z’s chest, his cock plunging past Z’s exquisite lips before he could take his next breath.
Fuck.
Ryan prayed the strangled cry was only in his head, but he wasn’t sure that was the case. Z repositioned him so that Ryan was straddling his head as he willingly fed his dick into Z’s eager mouth. With a firm grip on the headboard, Ryan gave himself over to what was happening. He didn’t want Z to stop, so fighting it wouldn’t benefit either of them.
Lifting his hips and planting one foot beside Z’s head, Ryan adjusted the angle of his dick, sliding it past Z’s lips, the delicious friction making his head spin. Z kept a firm grip on Ryan’s hips, pulling him forward until Ryan’s cock was stuffed deep into Z’s mouth. Z worked his tongue and teeth along the rigid length, then teasing his glans, driving him absolutely mad as Ryan continued to white-knuckle the headboard.
Ryan shifted again, pumping his hips, fucking Z’s mouth more forcefully. He was vaguely aware of Z’s hands moving, Ryan’s cock briefly stilling in Z’s mouth as a finger dipped inside, sliding alongside his shaft. Then Z was pulling Ryan’s ass cheeks apart, wrenching his hips forward, his cock tunneling in and out again while Z pressed his spit-slicked finger against Ryan’s asshole, gently fucking him with the single digit.
Oh, fuck. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.
Suddenly not giving a shit where he was or who was on the other side of the wall, Ryan gave in to the overwhelming pleasure, fucking Z’s mouth while Z fucked his ass with that thick finger. Ryan grunted, biting his lip to keep from crying out as his orgasm detonated. He came in a rush, his dick throbbing and pulsing as he flooded Z’s mouth.