Good Bones by Kim Fielding Page B

rocking slightly, trying to impale himself more deeply. Sweat had gathered under the folds of his knees. It slipped slowly down his thighs until Dylan raised his head and licked it away.
    “If your dick is half as talented as your tongue…,” Chris said with a laugh.
    “Twice as talented.” Dylan patted Chris’s butt. “Roll over.”
    Chris was surprisingly willing to comply. He tucked his knees underneath himself and rested his shoulders on the mattress, raising his magnificent ass high in the air. Dylan spent a long time squeezing and rubbing and licking the muscular curves, then spread the cheeks and bent back down to tongue at—and in—the already moistened hole.
    Soon Chris was rocking back and forth rhythmically, little huffs of air escaping noisily from his lungs. “Dyl… goddamn it… God… more!”
    Dylan patted his ass again. “Ready for me?”
    “Was ready half an hour ago.”
    Suddenly Dylan was ready too. He squirted a healthy dollop of lube onto two fingers but didn’t bother to take his time inserting them slowly. Chris’s ring of muscle was already relaxed. He jerked violently and grunted when Dylan deliberately scraped against the spongy little bundle of nerves. “Dylan….”
    Dylan’s hands were trembling slightly with excitement as he rolled the rubber onto his cock—the stimulation almost more than he could stand. When he lined himself up and sank inside in one slow thrust, both men moaned in unison.
    “God, Chris. So tight.”
    “Been a while. You’re—yeah, like that. God, just like that.”
    That was a long, gradual almost-withdrawal, followed by a quick slam back in. Dylan repeated the maneuver several more times, teasing them both, until Chris ordered, “Harder. Harder.”
    “Pushy bottom.”
    “Goddamn right.”
    Just when Dylan felt his balls drawing up tight, when he was in danger of losing himself completely, he stopped, producing an outraged wail from the man beneath him. “Don’t!”
    But Dylan wanted more. His skin was hungry for as much contact as possible. He ran his hands up Chris’s spine and tugged at his shoulders until Chris was up on his knees in front of him. Chris’s warm back against Dylan’s front allowed him to reach around and wrap a hand around Chris’s cock. Bucking forward into the grip, then back, Chris twisted an arm behind to grab at Dylan’s torso. He let his head drop back onto Dylan’s shoulder, and Dylan buried his nose in Chris’s soft hair.
    Skin slapped loudly against skin, punctuated by Chris’s soft grunts and the thud of their heartbeats. Dylan rocked his hips and stroked with his hand. The sounds, the smells, the goddamn sublime feel of burying himself over and over again in Chris’s hot core—his senses overwhelmed him, melding together until he couldn’t tell them apart, couldn’t distinguish which part of him was reacting to what part of Chris. He lost his rhythm completely and just pumped into that warmth until Chris cried out. The odor of Chris’s semen was exactly enough to make Dylan fall apart. He gasped and threw back his head as he came.
    It almost hurt to withdraw from Chris’s body. As soon as he did, Chris collapsed onto his forearms with an oof . Dylan carefully removed the rubber and padded into the bathroom to throw it away. While he was in there he unearthed a couple of clean washcloths and dampened them at the sink. He didn’t have the patience to wait for the water to get warm, but he knew Chris would be able to deal.
    They cleaned themselves without comment. Dylan sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Chris pulled his clothes back on. “Want to come over for dinner?” Chris asked as he bent to tie his shoes.
    “No thanks. I think I’ll just have a sandwich or something.”
    Chris nodded and stood. His head was bowed a little so his hair hid his face. “I’ll come over and help you unload the truck in the morning.”
    “Okay. But let’s wait until Monday to paint. I have some work to get