Page 31 of Under Construction

And Chris does.

He unzips Dennis’s pants with stable fingers, hooks his thumbs into the waistband and drags them down until they catch under the curve of his ass.

Then he's there, pushing his face in deep into the fabric of Dennis’s underwear, first one side then the other, breathing Dennis in like his scent is oxygen.

Dennis’s fingers find Chris's hair, sweeping thick bangs back over and over, tilting Chris's head to see his face.

The way Chris seems to be enjoying him before even unwrapping him properly hits Dennis low in his gut.

When Dennis’s fists tighten in his hair, Chris takes the hint. He peels the briefs down, and Dennis’s dick springs free, bouncing lightly just under his belly button, head flushed and gleaming where precum had soaked through the cotton.

"Fuck," Chris breathes. He traces the thick vein up Dennis’s shaft with his nose, making Dennis’s breath catch in his throat. “Fuck, princess, look at you, look how beautiful you are everywhere.”

Then he's pressing the tip of his nose right under the sensitive head, shaking his head back and forth until Dennis’s cursing at the pressure, vision going white at the edges.

"Chris, shit, I can't hold it—" Dennis’s voice breaks. It's too much after too long, and everything feels raw and new and overwhelming.

"I got you, princess," Chris whispers against his cock before taking him in—all wet heat and velvet softness.

His tongue circles the head until Dennis yelps, oversensitive from disuse. Chris stays still then, letting Dennis adjust to the feeling of being enveloped by his mouth, waiting for his breathing to steady.

When the room stops spinning, Dennis finds his hips moving on their own, tiny shallow thrusts pressing him into the softness of Chris's cheeks. His palms settle on the back of Chris's head, hesitant at first, then testing, exploring.

Chris lets him lead, crooning around Dennis’s cock when he inches in a little further, welcoming him greedily like he's been waiting to gorge himself on it for far too long.

Hungry sounds vibrate around Dennis, each one sending jolts straight to his core. Chris's mouth works him over with ajust rightsuction, tongue sliding and teasing, reducing him to moans and gasps.

Dennis grips tighter, thrusting a little deeper, his thoughts unraveling with every wet sound, every shuddering breath he swears he'll deny later.

When Dennis comes down Chris's throat, stars exploding behind his eyes and curses on his lips, Chris swallows and keeps swallowing, his throat clicking and pulling him deeper as he suckles around him.

He drinks Dennis down with noises thick with satisfaction, staying true to his word about tasting him, savoring every drop.

Then Chris stands and Dennis’s legs feel like jelly, his body still vibrating from his orgasm.

Dennis isn't small, but when Chris gets his hands under Dennis’s thighs and lifts him like he's nothing, strong fingers digging into the meat of his ass, there's that split second where he's sure they'll both end up in a heap on the floor.

But Chris's grip stays firm, and all Dennis is left with is his thundering heart and white-knuckled grip on Chris's shoulders.

"Bed," Chris's voice rasps—low, insistent, leaving no room for argument.

Dennis wraps his arms around Chris's neck, feeling the strong, steady thrum of his heartbeat against his forearm, the only reliable thing in this mess they're making.

Words fail him completely, so, "That mattress better be clean," is all he manages to say.

Chris’s laugh is low, full of heat, a sound that makes Dennis’s pulse spike. "Guess we’ll find out."

The world tilts, and Dennis hits the mattress with a soft thud before Chris follows him down, bracketing him in on both sides.

Chris is everywhere—above him, around him, pressing so close Dennis can't tell where he ends and Chris begins.

It should feel weird.

Wrong.

Like the biggest mistake ever.

But for some odd reason, it doesn’t.

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