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Grant stared into Dare’s eyes. He didn’t seem like the type to break his promises. Honest to a fault. Grant could probably learn something from him. “Okay, then.” He turned to face the other way and realised he could see Dare in the mirrored wardrobe doors. Bonus. “Do what you will.”
There was trying to relax—hard work on your own—and there was letting yourself be washed away by sensation. Grant closed his eyes and gave himself over to the pleasurable sensation of being massaged, just like he had the last time they’d tried this. But this time he got into that floaty place faster, and Dare was more purposeful in his movements, working his hands over Grant’s glutes with unerring intent. Grant arched his hips up, and Dare reached under him, seeking out his balls with one hand, while the other circled Grant’s hole.
“Please.” Grant didn’t exactly know what he was asking for, but he got his answer in the sinful wetness of Dare’s tongue on his hole. It was impossibly good. So good it was almost too much, and he quivered on the brink between pushing back and wriggling away. But then Dare growled, all hungry and deep, and Grant’s hips bucked backwards, impaling himself on Dare’s tongue like a wanton slut.
It seemed to go on forever, and Dare’s fingers came into play too. Perhaps his thumbs—it was impossible to tell by feel alone. Grant craned his head to try and see in the mirror. The sight of Dare on his knees, tattooed arms spreading him wide and his face pressed up against Grant’s upthrust rear, made him shudder with need.
“Oh God, please. I’m ready. So ready.”
Dare pulled back. “I think I should be the judge of that.” He rubbed his fingers deep into the muscle of Grant’s sphincter, and he’d never felt more open, more exposed. And the look on Dare’s face! His lids were hooded, and he seemed to be studying Grant like it was his life’s mission to fuck him wide open.
Grant let himself go slack into the mattress, signalling with every fibre of his being that he was ready to be Dare’s fuck-toy. To let Dare take over and do everything he’d promised.
“Mmm, that’s it,” Dare murmured, stroking down Grant’s back and pushing him down farther. “I think you’ve earned yourself some proper lube now.” He paused, then pulled a face. “You going to make me guess where it is?”
“Oh, sorry! In the drawer on this side.”
Dare hopped off the bed and moved round, and then he was blocking Grant’s view of the mirror, and standing there, still fully clothed and rooting around in Grant’s drawer.
Grant rolled onto his side and reached out, fumbling with Dare’s flies and eventually tearing them open.
“Someone’s keen,” Dare observed, and although he didn’t help with his trousers, he did strip off his T-shirt and swivel so he was facing Grant straight on. “Come on. Show me how much you want my dick inside you.”
Grant swallowed, salivating at the musky scent of aroused man. It was the work of seconds to push Dare’s trousers and boxers down, letting his heavy cock spring free. Jesus. The thing was so huge it didn’t even point upwards, like the sheer weight of meat was dragging it down. But that was good, because it meant it was at exactly the right angle for Grant’s mouth.
Grant teased Dare with his tongue, but when Dare reached down for a fistful of his hair, he got the hint and took him deep. The choking fullness almost made him have second thoughts. If it felt like this much in his mouth—which had plenty of cock-sucking experience, thank you very much—then how was it going to feel in his virgin arse?
But before he could spiral into worry, he felt Dare shift position, bending down, rolling Grant onto his back and spreading Grant’s legs. Slippery fingers probed Grant’s hole, and he was soon filled at both ends—crammed full of flesh. Dare’s flesh. He could come from this alone, never mind being fucked. Never mind anything touching his dick. That would be a first.
But when Grant’s balls drew up, threatening to shoot their load, Dare groaned and pulled his fingers out. “This is killing my back,” he complained. “Not that I want to stop you, but then again, I’m going to come if you suck me for too much longer. Backache or not.”
Grant let Dare go with reluctance. There was an inevitable familiarity with sucking Dare to completion. But then again, he was about to set out on an adventure.
Grant flopped back onto the mattress and rolled onto his front, expecting Dare to go and get into position right away. But then Dare’s strong hands lifted his chin, and he kissed the living daylights out of Grant.
And that, more than anything else, convinced Grant he’d chosen the right man to do this with. A man who wasn’t only interested in his arse, but who took the time to kiss as well.
“How you doing?” Dare asked when he’d finally broken the kiss.
“Pretty good. I think.” Grant wiggled his arse, and it felt gloriously relaxed. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
“We’ll take it slow. Breathe deeply. Tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll ease off. Okay?”
“Okay.” Now the nerves were back, but tinged with excitement rather than fear. Grant could do this. Surely he could. It was only a matter of relaxing one little ring of muscle, after all. Grant got himself up onto his knees, but Dare pushed him down again.
“No, stay like this. I’ll tell you when I want you on your knees.”
“Bloody control freak.”
Dare chuckled, and the sound reverberated through Grant. “Trust me, it’ll be more comfortable for you like this. Actually, maybe just get on your knees for a moment.
When Grant complied, he felt a pillow being shoved under his hips. The new position allowed Dare to push his legs wider, but this time Grant didn’t care about being exposed. He just waited, trying his best to breathe deeply.
When the pressure came against his hole, it felt different. Wider. Blunter.
“That’s it, just keep breathing. We’ve got all the time in the world.” Dare began massaging Grant’s buttocks with both hands, confirming that definitely wasn’t his fingers pressing into Grant.
Grant wanted to argue that they certainly didn’t have all the time in the world as they’d have to get up sooner or later and eat, but it was impossible to form words when Dare was pushing into him. Stretching him wide open.
It stung. Christ, it stung.
Grant whimpered, and the pressure eased, and now Dare was kissing his back, his neck, telling him how well he was doing, how he could take it if he just remembered to breathe, to relax.
The litany began to soothe Grant, and the next time the pressure came it was more bearable. Intense, yes, but the pain wasn’t as sharp. “How far are you in?” he eventually panted, when it seemed like Dare had halted. Please say all the way.
Dare’s lips left Grant’s neck, and his back went cold as Dare lifted his weight off it. “That’s about an inch. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, it’s a bit much, but I don’t want you to stop.”
Dare took the hint, and the rocking pressure began again, little jabs into Grant, spreading him deep inside. Oh God. Too much. He needed Dare’s kisses. Needed them to take his mind off the feeling that he was being split open like a ripe fruit.
But then Dare stopped again, and his voice sounded proud when he said, “That’s it. I’m all the way in.”
Grant groaned. Felt like Dare had shoved a telegraph pole up his backside. His insides were raw, throbbing. But when Dare leaned down and covered Grant with his body again, everything got that little bit more bearable. Grant craned his neck, and they were kissing. Open-mouthed, sloppy kisses that reassured him. Made his blood pump back into his cock.
And just like that, the unbearable sensation turned good, and Grant gave an experimental twitch of his hips.
“Oh God.” That was both of them.
Grant laughed breathlessly. “Come on,” he goaded. “This can’t be all you’ve got. I was expecting some action.”
“You’d better watch it,” Dare panted. “Those are fighting words.” But when he began moving, it was with slow long strokes, getting Grant used to the sensation of being almost empty, then gloriously full.
“How you doing?” Dare asked again. “This okay?”
“Good,” Grant managed to pant. It was a challenge to catch his breath when Dare was thrusting into him so deep, the air was pushed out of his lungs. “It’s good.”
Good wasn’t the word, though. This was incredible. Like nothing Grant had ever experienced. All-encompassing sensation. And no responsibility but to lie there and enjoy it. Maybe this was what people meant when they talked about freedom.
But eventually the sensations waned, and Grant wanted more. He pushed his hips back, taking more of an active role in trying to speed things up, and Dare growled.
“Hungry bottom, aren’t you? I figured you would be. Come on, on your knees.”
Grant got onto his knees with Dare’s legs bracketing his own, and grabbed on to the headboard to brace himself.
“What do you want?” Dare demanded. “Tell me, or you’ll get nothing.”
Toppy bastard. Yet for some reason, when Dare spoke like that, it made Grant’s cock pulse with need. “Want it hard,” he said. “Fast.”
“You asked for it.” Dare gave Grant exactly what he’d asked for, rutting into him like an animal. Grant held on for dear life, unable to do anything else but make strange, desperate noises.
And then Dare slowed, but now he was grinding in at the bottom of every stroke, mashing their balls together deliciously. And that sweet spot inside Grant was lighting up with sensation every time Dare’s cockhead surged over it. He moved his head so he could look between his legs and see Dare’s strong, ink-covered limbs bracketing his own. So fucking sexy.
This was sex like he’d never known it before. And he didn’t want it to stop. Not ever.
Grant caught movement out of the side of his vision and remembered the mirrors. He shifted his head, watching Dare’s powerful body ramming into his own. He’d never seen himself conquered like that before, but for some reason, the sight wasn’t alarming. He looked good like that, thrusting back against Dare. About as far from passive as you could get.
The exquisite pounding carried on for God knew how long, but then there came a moment when Dare pulled out. Grant howled a protest. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.
But then Dare rolled him over onto his back, held his legs up wide in the air, and pushed back in again.
Oh my!
Grant flung his arms wide, revelling in the new sensations from this angle. But that wasn’t the best part. The best part was being able to see Dare staring down at the point their bodies joined. He had a look of wonder on his face. And when he lifted his gaze to meet Grant’s, he gave the purest, sweetest smile.
Dare must have been thrusting incredibly deep, because Grant could swear his heart was getting battered. That was the only way to explain the throbbing pain in his chest.
The pressure there built until Grant was on the brink of orgasm. And it looked like Dare might be too, from the way he’d slowed and screwed up his face.
“Don’t want to come,” Dare panted. “Not yet.”
“Nor me.”
Dare’s thrusts became torturously slow, both of them moaning whenever the ridge of Dare’s cock teased Grant’s hole. And their eyes met again. Something passed between them. Grant couldn’t have named the emotion, but it made him want to give up the rest of his life to making this man happy. And it looked like maybe Dare felt the same way too.
Finally, Dare’s eyelids dropped. “Do it,” he rasped. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come.”
Grant’s arms felt like limp noodles, but he managed to find his dick, and sure enough, just a few seconds after grabbing hold of it, he was shooting liquid pleasure. And Dare’s cock—now thrusting fast inside him—made the waves of bliss go on and on.
Just as Grant’s vision hazed over and his balls felt empty, Dare shouted something incoherent, and Grant felt his cock swelling inside him. Oh God, that milked one last, feeble spurt from him.
Best sex ever.
And strangely enough, when they collapsed in a heap, this time it was Dare’s head pillowed on Grant’s chest. And Dare was the one holding on like his life depended on it. Not that Grant minded. He stroked Dare’s back as they both calmed down from the adrenaline high.
Eventually, Dare lifted his head and gave him one of those curiously tender looks Grant had been seeing more of just lately. “So, was it what you expected?”
“No.”
Dare frowned, so Grant rushed to clarify. “Better than I expected.”
The frown melted into a gorgeous, heart-stopping smile. “That good, huh?”
“I don’t want to top ever again,” Grant admitted, making Dare laugh.
“Selfish bastard. Told you it was good on the bottom. But I think you’ll have to top sometime, just so I get to enjoy a bit of bottom action too.”
And just like that, they were back to teasing banter, and Grant was no longer sure if the look he’d seen in Dare’s eyes really matched the way Grant was feeling inside. The scary, unfamiliar feeling he really didn’t want to put a name to just yet.
And so he avoided thinking about it by offering to fix coffee, and then Dare said he had to leave and Grant had nothing to say to keep him there. Nothing he wanted to admit to out loud, anyway.
When he curled up in bed that night, the space next to him felt even emptier than it ever had before. He hugged a pillow just to get some comfort and eventually succumbed to a dreamless sleep.
––––––––
DARE HADN’T WANTED to walk out of Grant’s place so soon, but the feelings inside him were threatening to spill out, and leaving was the only way he could think of to stop himself saying something stupid. And so he took himself off home and tried to distract himself by getting out his sewing machine. He still had two sets of camper van curtains that needed making, and the repetitive nature of the work was soothing. Solly’s head resting on his lap helped too.
It had gone well. That was the important thing he needed to remember. Grant had enjoyed himself—they both had—and so what if it had been the best shag of Dare’s life? It didn’t have to be all downhill from here. Even if there was no real future between the two of them, they could still do that again sometime. Again and again until one or both of them were ready for something more. Something with shared feeling.
Something with love.
Dare’s fingers slipped, and the line of stitching wobbled.
Shit. He should probably just get drunk enough to fall asleep instead.
But he’d grown out of that tactic. Instead, he fiddled with his MP3 player and put on the Sex Pistols’ “Never Mind the Bollocks”, singing along as he sewed. Nothing like a bit of angry punk to chase the blues away.