Page 88 of Bobby Green
“Reg?”
But Reg had no words. The only explanation he had in his head was that he wanted Bobby back, which was stupid, because Bobby hadn’t gone anywhere. All he knew was that—pump—if he didn’t get—suck—Bobby’s taste in his mouth—slurp—he would fly apart at the seams!
Ah….
Bobby’s bitter spurt of precome flooded his taste, and Reg swallowed, hoping it was like an antidote to the fire of need that rushed his body.
For a moment he could breathe, but Bobby bucked and shuddered, and Reg swallowed again. It wasn’t going to be enough.
“Turn around,” he rasped.
“Reg—”
Reg didn’t bother with more words. Instead of turning Bobby around, he scooted behind him and bent him over the bed.
Taste. Taste him.
He spread Bobby’s cheeks and licked without fear. Soap again. Fabric softener. Bobby had done his damnedest to clean away the remnants of the job. Reg probed with his tongue, and Bobby opened for him easily, already stretched and loosened from his day’s work.
“Reg,” Bobby gasped, moaning into the coverlet. “What’re ya—”
Reg licked some more, harder, until Bobby tasted like skin, like Reg’s spit, like human being. Bobby collapsed against the bed, shaking.
“Can you?” Reg begged, resting his cheek against Bobby’s nether cheek. “Can you? I need… God, Bobby. I ain’t never needed like his before. Can you do it again tonight? Tell me no, and I’ll… uh, go beat off in the bathroom or something. But can you?”
“Please,” Bobby whispered. Something in his voice, something broken, told Reg he needed this too.
Reg stripped in record time, and by the time he was naked, boots thrown in opposite corners of the room, Bobby was in the center of the bed on his knees and elbows, head resting against his clasped hands, ass presented out, waiting.
For a breath, Reg looked at him in an agony of indecision. He wanted… wanted…
Had to have.
He didn’t remember mounting the bed or slathering the lube—but the slick, tight embrace of Bobby’s asshole clenching around him—thatshocked him to himself, brought him boiling to the surface of his skin, snarling.
Bobby moaned softly, shaking under his onslaught, and Reg pulled him up by the shoulder, wrapping his arms around Bobby’s chest and thrusting into his ass like a great devouring machine.
Soft grunts filled the air, both of them keeping their voices subdued for V’s sake, and the slap of their flesh together echoed loudly. Bobby clenched Reg’s hands at his chest, and he reached behind to tug Reg’s hair. For his part Reg bit his neck, his shoulder, his back, scraping with his teeth. Bobby’s hands, work-roughened and strong, grounded him, kept him from flying apart, from yelling too loud and drawing blood.
He needed those arms, long and muscular, wrapped around him.
Pulling out was an agony, but he did it anyway and whispered, “Turn around.” Bobby, who knew how to give an order, did exactly that, holding his thighs up, spreading them, lifting his hips.
Reg shoved pillows under his ass, remembering how to be thoughtful, and then he was back inside, Bobby’s body welcoming him again.
Bobby’s cock lay across his lower stomach, engorged but not straining, and as Reg pulled back to slam forward, Bobby dropped his thigh to grab it. With his first few strokes, Bobby’s asshole clamped tighter, and Reg let out a gasp, thrusting forward again. Bobby’s noises were breathy, sensitized, like every touch blurred the boundaries of pleasure and pain.
Reg remembered what it was like to have sex after a scene, when your body was sexed out but your soul was still empty. With a quiet roar, he thrust forward harder, trying to drive out the emptiness, hit the note of pain, make Bobby’s body sing so Reg could drink his fill of this beautiful, smart, strong boy in his bed.
Every stroke both quenched his thirst and stoked the fire higher.
Bobby gave a low cry, and his back arched almost violently. He stroked his cock slowly, hard at the tip, and he oozed come, milking his body dry.
God, that was sexy. It was why they filmed the come shot, so you could see the body do something wonderful. Reg’s own orgasm rushed up on him, and he groaned and shook, flying apart like he’d tried so hard not to do.
His howl of completion rumbled out from his stomach and contracted all the things—taint, gut, nipples—even the muscles in his neck contorted, and he threw his head back and sobbed as he climaxed so hard he thought he’d bring the house down on his head. One more thrust, and again and again and….
“Ohballs!” he swore, falling sideways and trembling. He pulled out of Bobby, still spurting, and before Bobby could even move, he scrambled down the bed to pull that amazing cock into his mouth and taste, and taste, and swallow.
