Week One – Wolf Of The West

This bit of smutty goodness comes from Wolf of the West, as a result of…well, research, faoladh, and my own inability to resist the temptation of Marcas. Friday Fun may become a regular deal – let’s see how it goes, shall we? (And of course, as it’s smutty, that means NSFW!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Connor pressed his hips up against Marcas’ and grinned at the breath the other man sucked past his lips.

“What’s not right about now?”

Marcas laughed again, but this time Connor knew that he was laughing at him.

“You don’t want it enough yet. I want more than this from you, Connor.”

Connor couldn’t see Marcas’ smirk, but he felt it, the lips stretching, parting against his skin. Again, he felt a languorous stroking of tongue against his throat, nipping teeth, open-mouthed kisses that sucked heat to the surface of his skin to be soothed by that tongue. It was no longer in him to deny anything. He could only capitulate to sensation, his own nerves betraying him with what they wanted.

On your knees, Marcas said, and the image filled itself in his head, more than an image, a whole scenario… There would be the taste of salt and skin. Give as good as I get.

He found himself pushing up against the thigh Marcas had pressed between his legs. Connor arched his back off the ground and wished he could get out of his clothes, feel all the burnished heat of Marcas’ skin against his skin, but he still couldn’t move. He couldn’t even get enough movement out of his hips to ease the aching of his cock, so full, so wanting…

What did he mean, didn’t want it enough yet? What more was there to wanting than this painful pressure, tingling in his fingertips, his toes, a shiver that turned to a full body shudder when Marcas licked his lips. He leaned back over Connor’s mouth and kissed him, sucked Connor’s tongue into his mouth and stroked it lightly with the tip of his own tongue.

He mouthed his way along Connor’s jaw, back to his throat, kissed his shoulder—then bit it, hard. Connor jerked upward with an involuntary cry. He had been so close—but Marcas was already standing, backing away, grinning.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s