Rhys smiled at the emotions flashing over Cornell’s face. He was so expressive, his boy. So easy to read, most of the time. And right now, he was indignant but too smart to voice it. Rhys loved him for that, and if he hadn’t already decided to pick something he knew Cornell would love, he would’ve changed his mind. But as it was, he’d planned just the thing to make his boy happy.
“Kitchen table,” he commanded, and as always, a rush surged through him when Cornell obeyed.
He bent him over the table, reveling in the little groan that Cornell let out. He had to know what was coming now. With one hand—he’d gotten good at this—he unbuttoned Cornell’s slacks and dragged them down, baring his ass.
“Spread.”
Cornell widened his stance as far as he could with his pants around his ankles. Rhys unzipped himself and whipped out his cock. There was something dirty about fucking like this, half-dressed, hurried, fast.
Dammit, lube. His wallet was in the living room. And while Cornell usually prepped in the morning, it wouldn’t be enough this late in the day. His eye fell on the bottle of olive oil. Perfect. What had been good enough back in the day for those horny Romans had to be good enough for them, right?
He poured some into his hand and coated his cock, then stroked Cornell’s hole to wipe off the rest. His hand was still greasy, of course, but a kitchen towel solved that problem. No doubt, Cornell would grumble at him later about the stains, but right now, Rhys didn’t care.
“Hands on the table and distribute your weight evenly,” he told Cornell, who sent him an amused look over his shoulder. “I know, occupational hazard. Even when I fuck you silly, I still want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”
“I love you, Daddy,” Cornell said on a breath, and Rhys’s heart went all soft, even as his cock hardened even more.
“I love you too, sweetheart. Now brace yourself.”
He didn’t go easy on him. He didn’t have to anymore. Cornell’s body told him all he needed to know, and so he pushed in, breaking through that first resistance with ease. One, two beats before Cornell relaxed, and Rhys slid deep inside him. Ah, there it was, that beautiful, low moan Cornell made when Rhys took him like that. He loved it when Rhys went a little rough, a little dominant.
“Mmm,” he groaned as he bottomed out, the olive oil making a slick, sexy sound. “You always feel so good, boy. So fucking tight around my cock.”
Cornell squeezed his ass muscles around him, like he often did when Rhys said something like that. “Such a good boy for Daddy. Are you hungry for my cock?”
“Always.”
It wasn’t a lie. No matter how often they fucked, Cornell always wanted him. Rhys had been half prepared to have to slow down—the man wasn’t in his twenties anymore—but so far, Cornell was keeping up with him.
He leaned his head back and looked at how his cock split Cornell open. It never failed to arouse him, the way they became one, the way Cornell sucked him in, always so needy and eager. It was beautiful. Mesmerizing. Hot as fuck.
He slid out, pushed back in. Mmm, so good. So fucking perfect. “I’ll never grow tired of this. Never grow tired of you. Love you, baby. You feel so good.”
The simple “Daddy” that fell off Cornell’s lips was filled with love and heat and wonder and want.
“Does this feel good, sweetheart? Do you like it when Daddy splits you wide open?”
He’d worked Cornell completely open now, fucking him with slow, deep strokes. He’d pull out with precision, then slam back in hard and fast. Pleasure crawled under his skin, teasing him.
“Yes, Daddy. So good. You feel so good. Wanna be your boy.”
Rhys smiled. Eloquent Cornell turned into a rambling, babbling boy when Rhys fucked him like this, and Rhys loved it. “You are my boy. My perfect boy.”
His balls filled, hanging heavy against his body. He checked the time. Five more minutes before dinner was done. He’d better speed things up.
His next stroke was so hard Cornell whimpered with pleasure. “Are you going to let Daddy fuck you hard? Make you come hands-free?”
“God, yes, please. Daddy, please.”
Cornell shivered, and Rhys decided he’d waited long enough. “Hush, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
He slammed in, their grunts mixing. The slick sounds of his thrusts were loud in the kitchen, where the only other noise was the low hum of the oven. And of course the sounds Cornell made. Those dirty, erotic, needy sounds. The little whimpers, the gasps, the pleas as Rhys took him hard and fast.
Cornell’s hands curved around the edges of the table as he held on for purchase. It was a good thing the table was set against the wall. Otherwise, they would’ve pushed it out of place what with how hard Rhys was taking him. He bent over, careful not to put weight on him, finding Cornell’s nipple with his right hand. One twist resulted in a groan full of pain and pleasure. Another tug made him clench around Rhys’s cock.
“Let Daddy hear you… I wanna hear all those gorgeous sounds you make, my boy.”
“Daddy…” Cornell begged. “Harder.”
Rhys didn’t need to be told twice. He wasn’t sure if Cornell meant the fucking or the way he tortured his nipples. Probably a combination of both. Sweat pearled on his forehead as he sped up, moving his hand from Cornell’s nipple to his neck, folding his arm around his throat and pulling him back slightly. Not so tight as to choke off his air but just enough to make him feel the pressure. Cornell white-knuckled the table, pushing his ass back further.
Rhys’s cock was steel now, blazing hot steel that pierced Cornell with every thrust. His mouth found the sensitive spots on Cornell’s neck, nipping and licking, sucking and biting, making Cornell cry out loudly. Rhys increased the pressure from his arm on Cornell’s throat, wringing another long moan from his boy. His system went on overload, his body unable to process it all.
The perfect, slick pressure on his dick. The way Cornell moaned for more, harder, deeper. The tension in his balls, pulling up so hard he ground his teeth. His chest, rapidly rising and falling with each desperate suck of air. The light touches of skin on skin that almost felt too much, too hot, too sensitive.
And then his body taking over in a series of fierce, battering thrusts, faster and faster. Rhys grunted, vaguely registering Cornell’s now desperate begging to please, finish him off. Blindly he reached for his nipples again, flicking them, twisting. Tugging. Pinching.
And then Cornell threw his head back, screaming out in pleasure as his body shook and jerked. It was enough to send Rhys over the edge. He gritted his teeth as his balls unloaded, and he came hard, flooding Cornell with his cum.
“Damn.” He sighed, struggling to keep his balance as his muscles protested the heavy workout he’d given them.
“Damn.” Cornell sighed, his body going slack underneath Rhys’s.
Rhys carefully pulled out. Staying in this position too long would make it painful for Cornell. He used the same kitchen towel he’d wiped his hands on to clean them both up, wincing when he saw how dirty it had gotten. He was gonna get a lecture on that one. He dropped the towel on the floor, then pushed it out of sight with his foot.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said as he pulled Cornell back on his feet. “You okay?”
Cornell rolled his shoulders and turned his head to each side before he turned around to face Rhys. “Yeah,” he said, offering him his mouth with a sweet smile.
And even though it should have been awkward and unsexy, considering he still had his pants pooled at his feet, Cornell looked so sexy and hot it made Rhys’s stomach swirl with happiness. He kissed him thoroughly, huffing with annoyance when the oven timer beeped.
“You good?” he checked.
Cornell nodded, then slowly bent to pull up his pants. “Really good. That was…hot.”
“Yeah?”
Cornell’s mouth curled in a cheeky grin. “I think I like your version of mistletoe.”