Page 89 of The Prodigal Son

I feel like a deviant but in the best way. The last eight days without him have felt like so much longer. It’s like I’ve forgotten the way his body feels. I crave it. I wasmadefor it.

There’s a rumbling of voices in the hallway, which I take to mean the show is over. I’m pacing with excitement when the door finally flies open and Isaac is standing there, chest heaving and eyes wild.

God, he looks so sexy like this. Sweat slicked and flushed from the exertion during the show. His usual dark cowboy hat sits on his head. His black T-shirt clings to his skin and the worn-out flannel hangs from his shoulders.

In a rush, he slams the door shut and locks it behind him with fumbling fingers. Then he’s flying toward me. I gather him up in my arms, kissing him harshly and feeling him clutch tightly to my frame.

The fire that burns between us feels like it could stay ignited forever. I will never tire of his touch or the feel of his body in my hands.

“Fuck, that was the longest show of my life,” he mumbles as he yanks my shirt up to slide his hands against the skin of my chest.

I tear off his flannel and yank up his shirt. He reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off in one swipe. I do the same before we come back together, skin to skin.

“I was rock hard for that whole fucking show,” he groans as he fumbles with the button on my pants. I jerk open his belt and slide it through the loops.

“So was I,” I reply breathlessly as I cradle his head in my hands and kiss his neck. “But I’m always turned on while watching you.”

Once I have his pants loosened, I slide my hand down the backside, over his ass, teasing down his crack until my fingers brush the flared base of the glass plug, making him shiver.

“Fuck me, I’m ready,” he groans, clutching my arms like his legs have stopped working.

I chuckle with my face in his neck, breathing in the sweat-soaked, musky scent of him. “Not yet, cowboy.”

Isaac is eagerly fighting with my zipper, and once he has it down, he dives his hand into my pants and wraps his fingers around my length. I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning too loud as I hold him in a harsh grip on the back of his neck.

He licks a line up the side of my neck. “What about now?” he mutters through clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” I groan.

Roughly, I spin him around. He has to grab the counter of the vanity for support as I finish undoing my pants and shuffling them down far enough to grip my own throbbing cock.

After a few eager strokes, I tear down Isaac’s jeans before letting out a gasp at the sight of him. He’s bent over, his ass perched and ready with the glass plug wedged between his cheeks.

I press myself closer to him and we stare at each other in the mirror on the wall as I slowly ease the glass toy out of his hole. He nearly whimpers as it passes the ring of muscle.

“Please, Jensen,” he cries. “I need your cock.”

As I reach into my pocket for the lube, I kiss a line down Isaac’s spine, starting between his shoulder blades. He arches for me, letting out needy cries as I uncap the bottle and coat my fingers.

When my fingers circle his sensitive hole, he pounds his fist quietly on the counter’s surface.

“Jensen, come on,” he growls, thrusting his hips back toward me.

“My boy is so impatient,” I say, teasing him.

“Your boy is about to have a fucking fit,” he replies. “I’ve been hard for hours, babe.”

I chuckle again. I love seeing him so worked up.

“Give me hell, Isaac,” I say as I uncap the lid of the bottle again, this time slathering up my cock. “It’s going to be that much better when I shut you up.”

Isaac reaches down and strokes his own dick, and I see in the reflection how red and throbbing it is. I’m willing to bet the inside of his boxers are coated with precum, and the thought is hot as hell.

He’s groaning with impatience some more when I finally press my cock against his asshole. Instantly, he quiets.

Looking down, I savor the sight of his body taking mine, with nothing between us. As I watch my cock disappear inside him, my jaw hangs slack and my breathing seems to stop entirely.

“Mine,” I mutter possessively as I slam the rest of the way in.

---