Page 118 of Under Construction

"More more more," Dennis chants until they're both shaking apart. Their moans echo off the walls as Chris helps twist Dennis halfway around, mouths seeking each other hungrily. They bite and lick through their release, tasting each other's gasps while Chris pulses inside him.

So good. So satisfying. Dennis’s head spins. He could sleep for days after Chris has fucked the gala stress right out of him. God, Chris always knows exactly what he needs.

When it's over and they've sucked each other's mouths raw, Chris drops onto him like a ton of bricks.

"Get off me, you giant," Dennis wheezes, tapping out on his thigh.

"You know what else is giant?" Chris mumbles into the back of Dennis’s neck, words slurring together.

"Yes, yes, your dick." Dennis coughs under Chris's solid weight. "Now move it, I can't breathe!"

Chris's laugh vibrates through both their chests as he rolls to the side, tugging Dennis into the curve of his body. He buries his nose in Dennis’s hair, arms tightening around his waist, palm flat and protective over his chest.

"So good," Chris murmurs. "You're so good, baby. Why are you always so good?"

Dennis snorts softly, pushing his ass back against Chris's softness until Chris takes the hint, spreading Dennis’s cheeks to nestle himself between them.

"You weren't half bad yourself, Mr. Giant Dick.”

Chris's quiet laughter resonates deep in his chest, the gentle vibration against Dennis’s back making him drowsy.

After a moment of complete silence, Chris speaks:

"We should run away together." He kisses the back of Dennis’s head, breathing him in with an audible inhale.

"Pfft." Dennis scoffs. "Do you know how much logistics and packing and planning that takes? Who has time for that? Why would we even run away?"

"Why not?" Chris asks cheerfully, tracing lazy circles on Dennis’s stomach. "Just picture it. You, me. The Lexus and my ukulele."

"And the designer sheets," Dennis quips. "I'm used to being spoiled around here, you know."

Chris laughs. "Andthe designer sheets. What my princess wants, my princess gets."

Dennis wants to purr with contentment, but something Chris said earlier nags at him. "That debt must be big, huh?" He keeps his tone light, but his hand finds Chris's. His fingers slot themselves into the gaps waiting for him, seeking closer contact.

"You have no idea."

Dennis turns around, Chris's dick sliding free from between his cheeks. He props himself up on one elbow and his eyebrows draw together. "If you're serious, that's actually dangerous." He chews his bottom lip, worry clear in his voice.

"Don't worry," Chris laughs, cupping Dennis’s face to kiss him. Their lips meet softly at first, then turn wetter, greedier, like they can't get enough of each other's taste. Chris presses forward until Dennis tips onto his back, Chris's weight following him down.

"Nothing's wrong, baby." Chris's eyes bore into Dennis’s, unwavering. His thumb sweeps over Dennis’s cheek, then down to his neck. Dennis tilts into the contact, sighing as Chris's fingers ghost the column of his throat.

"Just thinking how fucking good it'd be, you know? Just us." Chris's palm wanders down Dennis’s belly to his hip, fingers circling the sharp jut of bone there. He captures Dennis’s mouth again before moving to his jaw, teeth finding his earlobe.

Dennis’s fingers trace Chris's face while his other hand kneads Chris's thighs and ass, feeling the power coiled in each muscle.

Chris pushes Dennis’s legs apart with his knee, one at a time, settling between them. "We could bounce after your bamboo paradise is done... build our own. I hear your site manager's pretty fucking spectacular."

Dennis laughs, deep and rich. He peers up through his lashes, tugging Chris's ear playfully before spreading his legs wider. "Mmh, and modest too."

Chris's soft chortles ripple between them. He rocks slowly against Dennis, both of them content just to feel their genitals squish and glide together, neither rushing toward anything more.

"Where would we go?" Dennis asks, playing along.

"Umm... Mexico?" Chris lifts Dennis’s balls with a hand, then holding his half-hard dick, drags its head lower. Taps and flicks and rubs along his taint until Dennis tilts his hips up, chasing more contact.

"I know this perfect beach... surfing, art galleries, total peace. Wake up to birdsong in hammocks." Chris's voice drifts dreamy and soft.

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