leather jacket/cable knit
by Pares


How had they gotten here?

Fraser's cheek was pressed to the sweaty tangle of Rays' gel-stiff hair. The other man's head was heavy on his shoulder, his lips grazing Fraser's neck as he muttered an obscene litany that drove Fraser's arousal ever higher.

He was leaning hard against Ray, now, Ray's head falling forward, the creak of sweat-damp denim as Fraser pushed Ray into the cabin's wall, Ray's profile golden and sheened in the dim light of the fire. The wind howled outside, and Fraser set his teeth in the collar of Ray's black leather jacket, far too flimsy for the knifelike cold of this place in winter, biting down to keep himself from marking Ray, chewing on the leather, his mouth full of salt and dry want.

Ray's hand was knotted with his, and as they went from leaning against the wall to making love to it, writhing against split logs, the other man took their joined hands and rapped them twice rather painfully against the wood.

With a loud, breathless whisper Ray ordered Fraser to do impossible things, things that twisted Fraser's gut even as they drove him to grind his hips against Ray's narrow backside. Ray's free hand flailed blindly, his elbow bent, his hand curled at the back of Fraser's neck, now grabbing a handful of Fraser's short hair and tugging until it brought moisture to Fraser's eyes.

"Come on, come on, fuck me --"

Ray bucked against him, his head on Fraser's shoulder once more, the bristle of his hair maddening against Fraser's bare throat.

"I can't. I can't, Ray. I don't have any--"

"Fraser--" and there was something like terror in Ray's voice as he seized, stiff and heavy in Fraser's grasp, as he fisted Ray's cock, holding it, squeezing rhythmically. "Oh, jesus, yes, just like that--"

On the edge of climax, Ray had shuddered to a halt, a fine tremor running along his limbs as he pushed up once against Fraser's hands, standing almost on his toes in his ecstatic moment.

"--finish me off, Christ, oh *Christ*--"

And Fraser pressed him against the wall and then let go of him, arranging him with his hands until Ray 's shoulders were against the wall and he was facing out, looking paralyzed and aggrieved.

"You can't let go when I'm *there*, Fraser, jesus, how can you--?"

And Fraser knelt, slowly, carefully, and Ray shut his mouth with a click and swallowed audibly.

The thick, glazed head of Ray's cock was blunt and gamy. Old sweat and fabric softener. The metallic edge of desperation. He felt Ray's cock throb with his rapid pulse as he ran the pad of his thumb along the base of the shaft.

Something naked and alive, admitted past his lips, drawn in with the wet massage of his tongue and the softest suckling kiss.

He had never performed this act, and there had been something decidedly efficient about it the few times he'd been on the receiving end of this particular motion.

It was new and strange, but he wanted to absorb it. Wallow. The rapid clicking sound of Ray's gulping and the stiffness of his hips precluded much exploration.

He drew hard, and felt Ray's hand cup his neck, his thumb stroking Fraser's skin.

"Just like that--" and then the soft glottal cry of completion, as Fraser pulled away to watch Ray's release spatter his own navy cable knit.

Bliss.

END


Touch my Smonkey!