This bit of erotica comes from Wolf of the West, and continues where the Lick from the smutty 17th left off! (And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)
But Marcas’ voice was rich with groaning, and his cock twitched under Connor, where it was pressed against his belly, hot and hard.
“You want me to leave you like this?”
“I’m not going to take you—not now—”
It was Connor’s turn to laugh at him. “But what if I wanted something else?” He pushed Marcas’ tunic up to his chest, then further, until Marcas leaned up under him and pulled it the rest of the way off. “What if I want to taste you, Marcas?” He bent and kissed Marcas’ throat, licked at his pounding pulse, sucked warmth to the surface, then bit his shoulder.
Marcas bucked under him, and Connor grinned, lifted his head so Marcas could see it. “Fair’s fair.” But there was no pain in Marcas’ expression, just heat upon heat, and Connor sucked in a breath. “Or maybe not.” He slid back onto Marcas’ thighs and reached between them for his cock, wrapped his fist around it and stroked slowly.
Marcas groaned and reached out to grasp his thighs, tried to hold Connor still, but he slid back and back, until he was between Marcas’ legs, not on them. He pressed his lips to the soft skin of Marcas’ inner thigh, then leaned up and wrapped them around his cock.
Marcas jumped under him, then lay back groaning. His hands crept up to tighten in Connor’s hair, pulled on it, urging him onward. Connor experimented with the speed of his tongue, the pressure of his lips. This was something new—the taste of Marcas, the smooth skin ridged with veins under his tongue, but he liked it. The way Marcas moved under him, the way he grasped at Connor’s hair, his panting groans.
Marcas’ fingers in his hair guided his head, tightened against his scalp when he found a particularly sensitive place. Connor used his tongue to trace that spot again and again, soft strokes while Marcas thrust into his mouth, until he cried out and Connor tasted salt and bitter heat, felt Marcas’ cock pulsing on his tongue.
The fingers wrapped in his hair relaxed, and Connor pulled back and crawled up to lie by Marcas’ side, licking his lips and grinning widely.
Whatever Marcas was going to say faded into his yawn. He reached out and pulled Connor close to his side, onto his chest, yawned again and closed his eyes.
Connor lay quiet, uncomplaining, listened to the heartbeat pounding under his ear and wondered how long this golden time would last.