Page 117 of Under Construction

Dennis’s laugh is breathless. "Not trying to."

The door finally gives, Chris stumbling under the weight of Dennis pressed against him. Dennis takes advantage, propelling them both inside. "Stop talking and fuck me."

Their formal wear hits the floor piece by piece as they stumble toward the mattress, already winded. Their hands reach for each other's hair. Their tongues search, then meet like they're starving for contact, making up for lost time.

The stress of the day, the tension still crackling under Chris's skin—it makes everything more raw. More primal. More urgent.

Chris breaks the kiss and spins Dennis around by the hips. He kicks Dennis’s legs apart so they're wider than his shoulders, then plants him face-down on the bed. His palm presses between Dennis’s shoulder blades, keeping him flat while his other hand yanks Dennis’s ass higher by his pelvis.

"If you want lube you better grab it fast, or I'm fucking you raw—can't wait anymore."

"Patience, babe," Dennis drawls. He can feel himself unwinding, much more relaxed already. "You know I can't even walk after you do that, and I want you inside me about five more times today."

Chris blankets Dennis’s back, his hand already tugging at Dennis’s cock with the kind of grip that makes Dennis’s toes curl and his breath catch.

"Hurry hurry hurry," Chris pants, his hardness sliding between Dennis’s cheeks like it’s impatient to be allowed in. "What if I just eat you out? Please please please?" His other hand starts sliding toward Dennis’s ass.

Dennis reaches back to swat him away. "No, no stop it,” he scolds, “always so greedy! What about my needs? I need that cockinme."

Chris whines, sinking his teeth into the flesh near Dennis’s ribs until he gasps, feeling a twinge of guilt for thinking only of himself.

Dennis reaches for the bedside drawer, arm straining as Chris's weight pins him down. "Just a minute, baby. Be good for me now and I'll let you have whatever you want later, okay? Almost there—" His fingers scrabble against wood until they bump plastic. "Got it!"

He passes the bottle of lube over his shoulder, getting up on his hands and knees. No need to get fancy. Chris taking him on all fours will be exactly what both of them need right now.

Dennis adjusts his stance. Spreads his thighs wide and low. The position makes his back arch naturally, presenting his ass at the perfect angle for Chris to line up.

"Chris, hurry, come on." He's already dripping onto the sheets and pointedly avoids wondering what housekeeping thinks about the number of bedsheets he sends to the laundry.

"Yeah, gorgeous, okay." Chris uses one palm to press Dennis’s upper back down until his cheek squishes against the mattress, hands flat by his head, elbows up. "Don’t get up. Stay down like that for me. Need to see that ass up high while I destroy it."

Dennis makes a pleased sound in his throat, wiggling his hips. What he wouldn’t give to watch Chris rip him apart too. But more importantly, finally, they can skip the foreplay—his body's been ready since the car ride.

Chris tips the bottle, and Dennis hears the wet splat of lube hitting his palm. Chris slicks his cock, then starts rubbing the excess between Dennis’s legs, but Dennis clenches, irritation spiking.

"Chris, get that fucking thing in my ass before I pin you down and take it myself!"

He's dying here!

Dennis reaches back to spread one cheek, his other hand grappling behind himself for Chris's dick. Christ, if you want something done right around here...

"Says the guy who's always preaching about patience!" Chris jerks his foreskin down and drives in with a single stroke, zero ceremony. "Holy fuck—how are you still this tight? Fuck fuck fuck—"

He surges forward, getting his feet planted on the bed into a squat while his hands dig into Dennis’s shoulder blades, forcing his ass higher with each push inside. His hips snapforward at a brutal pace, the apartment filling with the sharp crack of skin meeting skin between their gasps and groans.

Dennis floats away as the world dissolves around him. He reaches back to grip his thighs, trying to anchor himself in place while Chris smashes into him—his thrusts so hard it shifts the whole mattress across the floor.

"So good," Dennis moans, voice gone fuzzy and distant. "Dick's so good, baby, love your cock, made for fucking me, just me," he babbles mindlessly.

Chris groans. He seizes Dennis’s arms and hauls him up on his knees, yanking them behind his back. Dennis’s breath catches at the sharp bite in his shoulders. Chris locks one arm around Dennis’s elbows, fists the other in his hair, then uses his grip to slam into him harder.

Dennis’s spine curves on instinct, his hole flexing around Chris like it wants to swallow him. The new angle makes his passage tighter. Makes his inner walls clamp down each time Chris pushes in.

Whenever Chris twists him into this position—makes Dennis’s body grip him like this—it means Chris is close. His thrusts turn wild from how Dennis’s guts suck him in.

Chris wrenches Dennis back harder. Pain blazes across Dennis’s shoulders, his shoulder blades shrieking as Chris pulls his arms taut. His scalp burns where Chris's grip forces his head back.

"You love this, don't you?" Chris pants into his ear, breath hot and wet. His knees dig into the mattress as his hips jackhammer up into Dennis from behind, holding him exactly where he wants him, using him for their mutual pleasure. "Can'tget enough? Only my cock makes your fuckhole feel this good, princess."

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