Take This Man: Gay Romance Stories by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

the indecent words with a lick from ear to neck, as the green light flashes, and together they stumble forward into the room.
    “I’ve been—ah—busy. With work and—things. Oh, oh, shit that’s good.” Shawn chuckles to himself: who’s doing the swearing now? With one hand, he tugs open the man’s belt buckle, unbuttons, unzips: the silky trousers slither to the floor; the other hand steers their mouths together, the shorter man straining around to reach Shawn’s lips. Commando, he realizes, as his hand grazes bare skin, just as he’d thought down in the bar. Shawn brushes his fingers across the man’s belly. At the touch, the stranger lets out a strangled cry. “Oh, god, Sh—”
    Shawn grabs his jaw once more, catching him in a rough kiss before he can get out the words, swallowing his moan. “Shh,” he says, smoothing a hand down the front of his body, “not now, baby, not when you’re being so good. You want to be good for me, right?”
    He opens the blue shirt, hands dipping down between each button so he can stroke that lovely cock, tugging on it from root to tip, an overhand pull, one hand after the other. Up and down, avoiding the glans, tugging down on his balls to keep him grounded. He needs that small bite of pain in everything they do, be it the yank on his hair, or the smack of his ass, or the twisting bite of teeth on his inner thighs while he’s getting fingered. It doesn’t make him any less impatient, though, for even now he’s mumbling, pleading. “Fuck, need you, need you in me, please. Please.”
    He swallows hard. Lord, but the begging gets him low in his gut, loud and twisting like crumpled cellophane, every fucking time. “Go get on the bed.” The pants tangle and slow him down, but Shawn still manages to lag a step behind. He pauses to take in the perfect composition of his partner’s body, how his shirttails frame his dimpled ass. He lies down with his feet propped on the floor, tracking Shawn’s movements as he pulls open the bedside drawer, looking for lube. A copy of the yellow pages; eyeglass case; a heavy gold wedding ring, engraved with two pairs of initials; a black plastic prostate stimulator and a matching rubber cock ring; a plastic bottle, newly opened, barely used. He picks the last of these.
    The man watches quietly as Shawn slicks his fingers. His hands unfurl and close in anticipation, picking a rhythm out from the folded edge of the sheets. The movement reminds Shawn of a kitten, tentatively feeling out its first steps beyond the whelping box. He sinks to his knees in front of the open drawer and presses a kiss to the inside of his left knee, lifting the foot to place it on his thigh. White teeth grind against his full bottom lip, swollen from Shawn’s stubble. A flick of tongue to soothe away the burn.
    Face gone flaming, he rolls his hip open so Shawn can see him, pink and perfect. One finger surges forward, for Shawn finds hardly any resistance there. “Oh,” the man sighs. Inside, too, he is slick and stretched, quick to take a second finger. “Yes,” he breathes. “So good.”
    Open, Shawn can feel, and his own cock surges to think of him here, late afternoon light picking out the muscles of his arms and the rucked-up sheets as he fingered himself, surrounded by the mess of shopping bags and the casual disarray of a space not his own. He would have been on his back, legs spread, slim fingers slick with lubricant as he made himself ready to take Shawn’s cock.
    “You did this,” he breathes, the realization hitting him low in his gut, the heat of his lover spreading down Shawn’s whole arm, suffusing him with warmth. “Here, on this bed, getting yourself all ready for me.”
    The man’s pale chest heaves in time with his frantic nods, “Y-yes,” he utters, and looks down the length of his body—naked and exposed from the waist down, precome smearing his smooth stomach, mixing with sweat, staining the hem of his shirt, Shawn crouched between