Page 122 of Psychopath

He took Zane into his body, shivering at the raw stretch. It was slow going; Zane’s groan was low and rumbling as Quinn took him all the way.

“Holy shit, Quinn,” he breathed.

Zane’s eyes slid shut, and Quinn couldn’t resist the weight on his own lids as he closed his eyes too and focused on the sensation of Zane being all the way inside.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he gasped, lifting onto his knees. “I’m fucking you, I’m fucking Zane Black.”

“In a prison van of all places.” Zane chuckled breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Quinn moaned, dropping down on his cock. “In a prison van.”

Zane’s smile slacked as Quinn took him in again and again. “How inapp—”

Quinn slammed himself down, cutting off Zane’s words. It hurt, more than he was expecting, but it was worth it to hear the catch in Zane’s breath.

“Enough,” Quinn said, and he couldn’t resist leaning down to suck a mark into Zane’s neck while riding Zane’s cock in long, slow strokes.

Quinn whimpered, threading his fingers through Zane’s hair.

“Kiss me,” Zane demanded, lifting his hips from the floor and fucking Quinn back.

Their tongues rolled together, teasing each other. Their wet skin slid together. Moans were swallowed. Zane forced his arms between their slapping bodies, finding Quinn’s cock. He took hold and began jerking him off. It was going to be quick. Quinn needed it to be, not from fear of getting caught; he just wanted to let go, bask in his orgasm.

Quinn broke the kiss to moan softly as he came between their bodies, cock jerking trapped in Zane’s fist. He clenched down, enhancing his own pleasure as his insides quivered. Zane soon followed, throwing his head back and lifting his hips as he impaled Quinn. Zane’s cock throbbed deep inside, lashing his load, then he slumped, and Quinn collapsed on top of him, gasping.

It was hard to catch their breaths afterwards. They shared a bottle of water between them, then rewetted Zane’s vest to dab their skin. Zane found a sock to clean Quinn’s sticky cum from his chest hair. He threw it out of sight, then collapsed beside Quinn, both of them still naked.

“You okay?” Zane asked.

Quinn shifted, wincing slightly. “I’m good.” He licked his lips. “We should put our boxers on at the least.”

“In a minute,” Zane said, closing his eyes. “I kind of like being naked with you. It’s comfortable.”

“Or maybe we’ve just got heatstroke.”

“There is that possibility too.” Zane snorted, then threw an arm over Quinn’s shoulders. He pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his temple. “If that’s the case, then long let it continue. It feels pretty damn great.”

21

They did manage to pull their boxer shorts back on in case rescue arrived to find them naked and stinking of sex, but they didn’t bother with any other clothing. Quinn found it more comfortable lying down on the floor of the van and Zane mirrored him until they ended up in the same position they’d been in before desire took over.

“Confession time,” Quinn said. His eyes slid shut. “I didn’t want you on my study—”

“Knew it.” Zane smirked.

“But do you know why?”

“Because you were worried you wouldn’t be able to resist my charms and you’d end up riding me in the back of a prison van?”

Quinn cracked an eye open and found Zane grinning at him.

“I remembered that front page…of you…naked. I was seventeen.” He bit his lip. “And I was going through a confusing time, realising I liked men more than women, then there you were, standing on that deck with the sun on you, completely naked, and it was the front page of every newspaper. I bought one and took it home.”

Zane hummed. “And what did you do with it?”

“I took it upstairs and hid it under my pillow for two weeks. Then one night, I couldn’t sleep, so I got it out and…” Quinn’s cheeks were burning.

“So what you’re trying to tell me is, I made you come before I actually made you come?”

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