Author: Damon Suede
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/damon-suede/page,16,510994-bad_idea.html
H’okay!
Trip gasped and held his breath. His heartbeat thumped in the erection—a-one, a-two, a-three—encircled by Silas’s coarse fist, where it seemed to fit.
Silas let go, and his hard-on thwumped back against Trip’s pale stomach just to the side of the springy treasure trail. A little stripe of precum drizzled across its firm skin.
Trip let out the breath. “Fuck. Warn me next time.”
“That’d be dumb.” The wolfish smile lifted one side of Silas’s mouth and made his eyes flash. “If I warn you, how am I gonna surprise you?”
Silas slid to his knees and sucked Trip’s shivery stomach. “You know me. Can’t help feeding the lions. No matter—” He rocked up and kissed Trip’s sternum. “How many—” He licked Trip’s navel. “Times they—” He pressed his stubbled cheek against Trip’s erection. “Warn me.”
“I don’t think that’s a warning.” Trip stroked the mussed calico hair. “Exactly.”
“That’s what you think.” Silas opened his mouth and pushed his face to the root.
Whoa.
Trip opened his mouth, a shocked O that choked on oxygen as Silas somehow didn’t gag on his fat cap. How can he breathe? Another superpower, apparently.
Silas gulped around the stiffness and the inside of his throat did crazy things to Trip’s nervous system till his legs twitched and buckled. Silas slid back an inch to breathe roughly through his nose and then drilled down again, skewered himself while his throat spasmed gently around Trip’s hardness.
Trip always thought of blowjobs as something rushed and rough. Masturbation with a mouth at one end. Most of his experience involved guys who licked around and then whacked his honker to a sticky finish. Having a big one could create some very awkward moments in oral sex. In the sexual cafeteria of New York dating, talk was cheap and eyes tended to be bigger than stomachs.
Not so, Silas. He worshiped the fat slab, lavishing patient, slobbery affection over every millimeter of veiny stiffness.
“Hold up. Wait.” Trip pulled his hips back and slid out of the slippery bliss. “I don’t want to come.”
Silas pulled free and wiped the spit off his chin. “You don’t have to.”
“You’re gonna make me.”
“Nuh-huh.” Silas strained forward and licked the crown with the very tip of his tongue. “You’ll wish you could come. Southern fellas know how to take their time.”
Trip trembled, hypnotized by Silas’s frank hunger.
“You could work on your sketches, and I’ll just blow you quietly for a spell. Slowly, y’know. Like pulling a thread… gently churn the cream out of you.”
“Stop.” Trip breathed harder.
Silas sat back, a long strand of drool hanging from his lip. It stretched until it broke and hit the floor. He didn’t seem to notice and just stared at Trip. Silas pushed his briefs down to his knees. The tight T-shirt still stretched over Silas’s chest, but otherwise his body was exposed to Trip’s view. “I can keep you cantering right at the edge for a long-ass time.” A rumbling exhale. “Hours, even.”
“Please.”
“Mmh. Mr. Spector. You say ‘please’ to me, and there’s not much I won’t do. Good manners will get you just about anything.” Silas wiped absently at his cheek, exposing the pink flesh of his mouth for a moment. His hard-on bobbed to the right and his balls hugged its root. Lust and musk. His eyelids fell to half-mast and he swallowed lazily. “But bad manners will get you even more.”
Trip reached down and hoisted the thick body up against his. He tucked his hand between the globes. “Fuck, Silas.”
“If you insist.”
9
CAUTION? Meet wind.
Silas wrapped his hand around that thick piston and milked its length. “I can’t think straight with you like that.”
“We going somewhere?” Trip followed with a grin on his face.
“Bed.” Silas headed toward the long windows. He’d seen an alcove tucked there, the navy blue corner of unmade sheets and a chair that had three T-shirts draped over it. He squeezed Trip’s big boner and let go as he reached the mattress.
Trip jogged back to the front door and flicked a switch. Only the streetlights outside lit the apartment. “Don’t wanna give the neighbors a show.” He dropped the blinds a ways.
“Speak for yourself.” Silas sat and shrugged, admiring the lazy wave of Trip’s monster. There was something so satisfying about the bob and swing of it as he moved confidently around his space. “Jesus.”
“I know. I’m white. I’m not really a beach—”
“You’re beautiful.”
Trip snorted.
“Why do you do that?” Silas scooted back. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”
Trip reached back over his head and skinned out of his shirt to reveal his pale torso and the arrow of dark silky hair aimed at his navel. “Wow,” he spoke under his breath.
Silas turned over his shoulder and caught Trip staring at his backside. “Such an ass man.” Not a question. He ran a lazy hand over the light down dusting his crack.
Trip bent forward, held the cheeks apart, and swiped the skin with his wide, warm tongue. His face fit perfectly in the trench, and his mouth covered the hole completely. Choonk. Silas almost saw the sound effect as if on a lettered panel. Trip gripped Silas’s ankles and pushed them farther apart so he could wedge even closer.
Silas groaned. On the off chance he could stop himself from jumping Trip or acting like a total slut in public, he’d jerked out a load in the shower at the gym and stuck a finger or two in himself to speed things along. “Yeah.”
Trip exposed the little muscle and dove in hungrily as Silas reached back to hold his mouth where he needed it most. Trip bit the musky skin and rubbed his stubbled face and buzz cut against the sensitive crease. “Good?”
Silas jumped at the sensation and arched his back hard. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Trip squeezed the plump muscle while his fingertips grazed the hotter, damper skin close to the hole. “Who needs vegetables? This is like breakfast, lunch, and dinner right here. And a midnight snack.” He curled and pushed closer, rubbed his entire head against the hole.
Silas whimpered and tried to relax the little iris, to give Trip full permission. He went boneless and stupid, focused on the slither of his golden forearms and face where they pressed against the lustrous cotton.
“’At’s it.” Trip bent the semierect cock back and pushed the head against the hole as he licked both with wide flat strokes of his tongue.
Silas slid his tense arms forward as if praying. He spread his knees another few inches apart. His ass clamped shut and his knob swelled and drizzled a slow crystal strand. “Do it.”
Trip pulled away, and Silas heard the crackle of plastic and the squelch of lube. “Fuck.” The mattress shook as Trip stretched the rubber over his girth.
Silas opened one eye and tried to twist around, then gave up. He could feel plenty, so didn’t need to see anything.
Trip didn’t give him any fingers to help. He’d licked and bitten the skin till it hummed. The spit ran down Silas’s inner thigh and felt cool in the air. The glossy bulb scorched his opening but went no farther.
Silas growled in frustration. He’d played with his butthole all fucking day and finally had what he wanted ringing his buzzer.
“Take what you want.” Trip sounded breathless. He gently rested greasy hands on Silas’s hips. He didn’t thrust or pull the pelvis closer, just let the fat crown kiss the entrance to Silas’s body.
Eyes closed, Silas nodded and strained back. He bore down as best he could.
Ow.
Trip patted his flank.
Silas arched and muttered, “Gimme a sec.” He wiggled his hips and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna—holy fuck!” His ass opened sharply, painfully, and caught the head just under the ridge. “One sec. One sec.” The cock flexed but stayed put.
“Shhh. ’S’okay, man.” Trip traced the soft c
rack and ran a hand up Silas’s back. “Go easy. You take what you need.”
With excruciating slowness, Silas pushed himself up on his elbows and arched harder to drill himself back on that club, inch by scalding inch. Even hard, Trip’s dick felt like it had a spongy layer over it.
“There ya go.” Trip petted him in long strokes and squeezed his cheeks together. “Look at that.”
Silas rumbled and purred, drugged by the fullness. Trip’s dick mashed his prostrate into butter. Precum leaked from his helmet onto the mattress.
“Doing okay?” Trip pulled out a bit and froze when Silas pushed back to reclaim the inch. “You got all of me.”
“Nuh.” Silas hung his head as Trip drove the breath out of his open mouth. “You do.” He panted. “Again.” He canted forward and let the fat length slip free and then pushed onto it again.
Trip held his hips close and moved gently at first, as he carefully tested Silas with fierce patience, as if he could see with his shaft and was looking for a diamond.
Silas spread his arms on the bed; his head was turned sideways and smashed into the mattress. “I knew—”
“Yeah?” Trip gasped and lunged forward. “What’d you know?” As Silas relaxed, Trip’s aggression rose. He gripped Silas harder, demanded submission that came easily and eagerly when called. Silas groaned and chuckled. Nerd sex. He’d have to thank Leigh Ann for the advice.
“C’mon. C’mon, man.” He stared back at Trip with gritted teeth. “Make me. Make me take it.”
He saw Trip clearly for the first time. Folks always wondered why his exes stayed friendly. That was the reason. Even as a half-assed boyfriend, he got the best sex out of his partners. Like cosmetics really… he paid attention. You worked with who and what you had. “I can feel all of you, man. Make me—”
Trip fell forward, his cool belly against Silas’s warm back. He wrapped his arms around Silas and drove his length in short rapid punches that made it hard to breathe.
Trip unleashed himself in the sack. Silas had subjected himself to a lot of clumsy camera-ready but butthole-brutal sawing back and forth. Most guys learned to fuck from porn and, without knowing it, screwed anus as if they were on a set in the San Fernando Valley, working for creeps with clammy hands. Truth was, unless someone aimed a camera at your ying-yang, the pleasure came from paying careful attention to each other. Trip screwed like he drew, building up a mosaic of details that gradually overwhelmed them both. Too much.
Silas gasped. “Thank you.” He pushed back as best he could to amp the give-take and let Trip own him utterly. “Augh! Thank you.”
Trip buried his nose in the nape of his neck, and the hot breath snuffled there. He gave small grumbling moans as his irregular strokes shortened and got rougher. The yielding layer over his dick had stiffened into punishing thickness.
Silas caught his breath. The friction hovered right on the edge of pain while Trip plucked at his tits. His own hard-on jabbed the slippery cotton beneath him as he jerked it. So close.
“Show me.” Silas glanced back at Trip. “Make me feel it.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” Trip gasped and choked. His hips shook, and he nailed Silas to the mattress with a club that felt like it reached his lungs.
Silas’s pleasure crested, and iridescent juice spilled over his hand. His hole squeezed and jerked, wringing a yelp out of Trip.
“Oh!” He tried to thrust but couldn’t.
Silas melted forward into his own hot spooge. He couldn’t catch his breath and stopped trying. His stretched ass relaxed enough for Trip to slam against him once, twice, again, then—
Silas collapsed and Trip sank with him, kissing and biting the slippery skin of his back. Spunk still drizzled from Silas’s knob onto the sheets, and his head hung over the side of the bed. I can’t stop cumming. He roared and bared his teeth while his spit ran onto the floor.
“Silas. God. Si—I’m gonna—” Trip wheezed at his neck and licked the skin. His fingers gripped Silas’s ass and kneaded the cheeks as he hammered between them, howling, “I’m there!”
Silas surrendered to the honeyed hum in his bones as his softening cock ground seed into the bed. He flexed his back, pushing up so he actually lifted Trip for a moment.
They shouted together. The winter air cooled between them. By degrees, Trip unstiffened. Silas slid his hips forward gingerly to let the blunt pole slide free. His breath caught at the cold sting. He flipped over onto his starchy puddle and watched Trip settle back. “Thank you, man. Thank you and thank you.”
Trip rolled Silas onto his lean chest and petted him. He leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “You like it rough?”
Silas licked his teeth. “Jam’s out of that jar.”
Trip clambered over him to lean against the headboard.
“I love giving up. Being forced. Not like whips, but being taken like that. Jmpnh.” Silas rolled his eyes back in his head. “You dunno.”
Trip swallowed, and when he found his voice, it came out raw and weak as a hatched chick. “When I was a little boy, I would take these muscular plastic men and tie them up. Bondage, I guess, with string. But sometimes, just posing them. That always seemed so sexy. All that straining against knots and each other.”
“Like bondage?” Normally, Silas would’ve loaded the word with flirty innuendo, but Trip’s confession made him feel protective, something more primitive than playing Black Party dress up: one thing to wear a harness to a club, another thing entirely to be in fifth grade and stumble onto kink in the sandbox. “Comics get racy.”
“Well, yeah. I guess. Without the sex part. I was a kid, but looking back, sure. Fantasy. Fan fiction with my toys.”
“’Cause they were strong. And you had power over them.”
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna mess with rope and safewords. The props don’t get me going at all. I don’t even think it was the tying up; it was those big heroes doing what I told them.”
“Control.” Silas nodded.
“Heady shit for a skinny shut-in. Some boys flip out over professional wrestling. Some little girls go gaga for horses. Muscle. Power. Dreams. Tales. Lust before you have a name for it.” Trip exhaled loudly. “And after all, superheroes live to serve. Suffering and sacrifice.”
Silas smiled slowly. “That’s how you started drawing.”
“Yeah. Yeah! How did you know that?” Trip blinked. “You’re too smart for me.”
“Strong men in tight spots. And you cooked up all those images that needed to come out.”
“Aquaman never looked right standing again. Kneeling, always. First time I jerked off was to He-Man wrestling a guard in a Saturday morning cartoon. I popped and it scared the shit out of me.”
Silas licked his lower lip. “So the night I….”
“Yeah.” Trip exhaled audibly. “God, yeah.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Nahh. You did, though. I mean, you didn’t know that you knew, but you must have seen whatever itch I had.” Trip shifted his head. “You coaxed it out of me. That’s what you do, Mr. Goolsby.” He smiled as he said the words and ran an affectionate hand over Silas’s scalp and back. “You’re a terrible influence.” He sighed. “Oh, I’m onto you now.”
Chuckling as he slipped off the mattress, Silas padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. He drained it twice, taking hard chilly gulps that tasted delicious.
Best not to think about flying to Arizona on Monday. The shoot in the desert would last for over a week. A lot could happen in that time. Maybe he’d hook up with someone. Trip might do the same. They were both grown-ups. But some flimsy part of Silas wished he didn’t have to be.
If not for the OutRun zombie event, they’d never have met. For the thousandth time, Silas thanked God he’d gotten off his lazy ass and gone to help Kurt that cold New Year’s Eve. If he hadn’t stepped in for the missing zombie… if he hadn’t turned and seen the handsome anxious stranger in scrubs….
He opened the fridge: marshmallow fluff, Mountain De
w, frozen Hot Pockets, and a host of hydrogenated horrors. “Jee-zus. Junk food much?”
Trip winced. “I warned you.”
Silas clocked the Pringles and gallon tub of Gummi Worms on the counter. “You must have the metabolism of a cheetah.” He closed the door quickly, as if the snacks might escape. “How do you stay in shape?”
Trip appraised him. “If I was in shape the way you are, I’d be naked all the time.”
“You’re so full of it.” Silas ambled back to the bed as if he’d slept in it a thousand times. He ran his hand over the swell of Trip’s calves and the racehorse ankles.
“Hush.” Shoulder bump. “I’m not saying you’re just a piece of beef, but I fully appreciate the appeal of a high-protein diet.” He bit Silas on the bicep.
“I played football from the time I was little. Center ’cause I was so big.”
Trip quirked his mouth. “I can’t imagine you heavy.”
“I was super chunky in junior high. Right up until I grew, actually. Sophomore year, I stood five foot four and weighed two-sixty and had a fifty-one-inch waist. And then over the summer, I, like, exploded. Six inches in six months, it felt like. My knees hurt all the time. Horrible but then great.”
“So you weren’t fat, you were just building fuel reserves for liftoff.” Trip ran a pale hand over Silas’s firm stomach.
Silas barked with laughter. “I guess. When you grow up tubby, you never quite shake the feeling someone’s gonna pull your shirt up and make your belly button gargle. Paddle your tits.”
“Sorry.” He watched Silas crawl onto the sheets with him.
“Or trip you and flick jizz on you in the shower.”
“No way.” Trip’s mouth fell open.
“No. That was a secret sticky wish that never came true.” Silas blushed. “You kidding? I woulda busted. Ugh!” He hid his face in wadded pillows. “I can’t believe I just admitted that to another human being.”
“Football, huh?”
“Junior high. High school. In Alabama? That’s religion. You play so you don’t get hassled.” Silas ran a lazy hand over Trip’s flat abdomen and plucked at the little stripe of dark brown hair.