Page 9 of Refraction

Fuck-a-doodle-doo. His nipples went so hard they burned, and he wanted to just eat this guy up in three bites.

Calvin moaned softly and swirled his tongue against Tucker’s chest, tangling it and tugging gently.

“Jesus, honey.” Didn’t that little sting derail his train? He still had ahold of that tiny ass, and he wasn’t intending to let go for love or money.

“You’re into that, huh?” Calvin pushed his T-shirt higher, up and over his head, and dropped it where they were standing. “Tell me something else you like.”

“I like a hungry man. I like your ass. I like… seeing my lovers.”

“I like that you know what you like.” Eyes on Tucker’s, Calvin took a few steps back, opened his belt, and popped the button at the top of his jeans. “A lot of people get this view,” he said, tugging off his boots. He slid his jeans to his ankles and stepped out of them, revealing bright yellow trunks. “Magazines, billboards, internet.” He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and slid out of the trunks too. “But not this one.”

God, his fingers itched. He wanted to touch, to sketch, to know Calvin’s planes and angles so well they were burned into his muscle memory.

Calvin stood there awhile, giving Tucker time to look all he wanted, not even blushing—not the least bit body shy.

Finally he shifted his pose and smiled. “Come on to bed, cowboy, and let me get a look at you too.” Calvin turned slowly and headed for a doorway, giving Tucker a nice long look at his ass before he disappeared into the next room. “I’mstarving.”

“Yessir. I got something for you, swear to God.” He followed like Calvin had a leash around his balls and was tugging nice and steady.

Calvin’s bedroom was white. The walls, the shag carpet, the furniture, everything. Everything except his bed, which was on a low platform, took up most of the room, and was covered in a huge, thick, magenta comforter and a hundred pillows in various painfully contrasting colors, like tangerine and turquoise.

He stood there a second, processing colors and lines and the curve of Calvin’s cock. “Nice bed.”

It wasn’t “nice boots,” but it would do.

Calvin laughed. “I like it. It’s comfy as fuck. Or for fucking. You’ll like it too, when you’re naked enough to get in it.” Smoothly, Calvin stepped close and melted against him, tilting his head up. “I want another one of those kisses.”

“I’m on it.” He had a wild second where his hands didn’t know where they needed to land, but he settled on cupping chin and ass so he could focus on giving Calvin what he asked for.

“Mhm.” Calvin gripped the back of his neck, and the kiss shifted quickly into high gear, with Calvin’s tongue pressing right past his lips. Tucker sucked in a lungful of air, loving how it was flavored with someone new, something to explore, and then he slipped his tongue alongside Calvin’s, letting them have their back-and-forth.

Moaning for him, the sound warm and laced with need, Calvin slid a hand across the front of his Wranglers, right along the ridge where his cock pressed against the denim. It took a second for Calvin to reckon his belt, but once that was loose, all it took was a good, hard tug and Calvin had slipped the button open and lowered his fly one-handed.

If his mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied, Tucker would have told Calvin how impressive that was. As things stood, he had to show it.

Calvin let go of his neck, both hands roaming now—across his shoulders, down his chest, around to his back, and farther down, straight under the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Calvin’s fingers dug into his ass with surprising strength, pulling their hips together so tight he nearly lost his balance.

“Damn, honey, that’s hot.” His toes curled in his boots, his cock aching in his suddenly too-tight briefs.

“Fuck yeah.” Calvin yanked his hands away and gave Tucker a little shove before dropping to his knees.

Tuck was forced off-balance just enough that he had to take a step back. Calvin tapped him on the calf.

“Boots,” he said, hooking one hand behind Tucker’s left heel.

“Good man.” It always sucked, getting caught with your jeans down and your boots on.

“Vermont boy.” Calvin helped him with one boot and then the other, giving a little whistle. “They’re nice.”

“You know it.” Life was too fucking short for shitty boots. He skinned out of his jeans and undershorts, his socks. Oh, it was chilly in here, and the snow was just coming and coming.

Calvin looked up at him, sitting back on his heels. “Oh, that is much, much better.” He ran warm hands up over Tucker’s thighs and followed them with his tongue before nuzzling into Tucker’s hip and nipping at the skin there with his teeth.

His eyes went heavy-lidded, and he spread a little, enough to be able to rock forward and keep his balance.

Calvin gripped the backs of his thighs and kept at him for the next little bit, kissing and licking his other hip and then moving that hot tongue to his balls and bathing them thoroughly.

Jesus. Was this fucking real? Any of this? “You’re making me dizzy, honey. Come here before I fall down?”

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