Page 66 of Under Construction

"Chris!" Dennis laughs, swatting at his back. "You're so gross!" But his protests are short lived.

It’s simply easier for his fingers to thread through Chris's hair from nape to crown, slow and lazy. Easy to let his eyes fall shut, breathing in the moment.

He's never felt this relaxed, this at peace, than when he’s with Chris.

Chris tears open the lube packet with his teeth, slicking up his fingers as he hums something tuneless with his beautiful voice.

Dennis stays still against his front, feeling Chris’s breath on his ear, the rise and fall of his chest against his back.

His legs are wide open, just waiting. Both Chris’s arms border him, holding him in place as he lubricates.

Dennis trails a fingertip along Chris’s knuckles, the back of his hand—sun-tanned and wood-roughened—before tracing back again.

What a thrilling thought, knowing that in a moment, these steady, capable fingers will be in him.

“Going to make you feel good now, princess,” Chris murmurs into the side of his face before depositing a small kiss on his temple.

Then he drags his wet fingers up and down Dennis’s taint—those firm strokes he seems to love giving this particular spot.

His other hand keeps Dennis’s butt cheek pulled apart, keeping everything exposed and taut, amplifying each touch.

Dennis shivers from the cold of the lube, but it’s not long before Chris starts circling his rim until it starts twitching, begging for more attention.

Dennis is floating in pleasure, but impatience stirs.

When he thinks Chris has been alternating between his taint and rim long enough, he turns his face into Chris's neck, hand cupping Chris's cheek as he noses at the skin, giving it tiny kitten licks.

"Chris?" he whispers, voice sleepy from how good everything feels. "Won't you finger me now? I want to feel you in me."

"No hurry, princess," Chris says. But he does pull Dennis in by the elbow until they're half-facing each other.

"Hmm?" Dennis hums, lifting a hand to stroke the shell of Chris's ear, tugging at his lobe.

"Just wanna taste you," Chris husks, burying his face in Dennis’s chest and zeroing in on a nipple, his hands never stopping. "Wanna taste you everywhere."

Dennis sighs, indulgent, letting Chris have his way. His thumb traces Chris's jaw, feeling it work as he suckles andnibbles and nurses at his nipple. His eyes follow the soft curve of Chris's closed lids—such a delicate feature against everything else tough and rugged about him. Watching Chris lap and suck like he's drunk on the taste of Dennis’s skin.

But soon even this gentle attention has Dennis feeling like he might burst. He’s beginning to get a distinct impression of being a tightly wound cord, fraying and ready to snap in too many places at once.

“Chris, I want—mmph!” Dennis croons on a particularly hard suck that ends with a sharp nip of teeth.

“What do you want, gorgeous?” Chris murmurs into his nub, now tender, dark pink, and exquisitely sore. “Let me give you what you want.”

Dennis catches Chris's face between his palms, lifting until Chris's lips pops off his nipple with a wet sound.

He pulls Chris into a kiss that starts slow, tongues eager to meet each other, then deepens until they're both breathing hard.

"I want us to make each other come," he whispers against Chris's lips, his own smile soft and satisfied.

Chris's face presses against Dennis’s shoulder, nuzzling firmly as he guides him to turn forward again.

He nudges Dennis’s right knee up onto the couch with gentle persistence while Dennis’s left foot—leg still hooked over Chris’s—balances on its toes on the floor.

Dennis grabs around Chris’s shoulder to steady himself. One palm falls behind him to take his weight on the couch.

The precarious position leaves Dennis completely at Chris's mercy—spread much wider than before, fully opened to him.

Here, in the moment, he is experiencing everything that happens to his body in real time. But if he turns his head a little to the left, it’s like he can watch them performing on HDTV.

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