Page 43 of Animal Instincts
Joss claimed Oliver’s mouth, kissing him long and deep as he rode their cocks with his firm, hot hand. Oliver closed his eyes, as he gave himself up and surrendered to Joss’ plundering kiss and his sure touch.
Let me take care of you…
Joss’ words sank deep into his heart, as a calm, warm, soothing wave washed through him. Care, and tenderness. It was what his heart craved more than anything. More than sex, more than the physical act. And somehow, Joss had known, and Joss still knew, still understood, as he began to pepper a trail of kisses along Oliver’s jawline, down the sweep of his arching throat, across his chest. Each one, small, soft and gentle, until—
“Ah—ahhh…”
In the moonlight striped darkness, Joss laughed. Low and throaty, it sent a delicious rippling shudder through Oliver, who squirmed as Joss sucked down hard on an erect nipple, all the time rocking his hips backwards and forwards, in perfect time with his hot hand.
“Note to Joss: ensure nipple action is activated,” Joss murmured, as he released the hard nub with a wet slap of his lips.
“Oh no, please don’t.” Oliver gasped and hiccupped at the same time.
“No? Really?” Joss’ voice teased, just as his hand teased, as he laved his thumb pad across their hot, juicy slits.
No… Yes… Oh, god… Yes… No…All coherence of thought and speech dissolved to nothing as Joss took his other nipple into the slick wet heat of his mouth, and sucked.
Oliver bucked, the need to come rising up in him. With one hand, he clamped the back of Joss’ head, his fingers scrubbing through Joss’ hair as Joss doubled down on his relentless, agonising, ball busting assault.
Every suck was harder, every little bite sharper, every tug on his tingling nub longer as Joss stretched the nervy, delicate flesh. Oliver’s other hand found Joss’, working their crushed together dicks. Wrapping his hand tight around Joss’, he jacked them harder, faster, urging them both towards the finish line he was racing to meet head on.
Above him, Joss’ fast and rhythmic back and forwards snap of his hips juddered as his pace began to falter. Their joined hands, riding their solid shafts, were frantic, like the pulse of Joss’ hips, ragged and out of time. Joss sucked at Oliver’s nipple, the sensitive skin raw and burning, the first beginnings of Joss’ stubble like sandpaper. Oliver didn’t care. He wanted the rawness, the burn, the scratch, the pain, the sharp reminder that he was alive.
Joss’ cry rent the air. He threw back his head, and his cock swelled and throbbed as his hot, sticky release drenched their hands, the viscous wetness coating Oliver’s fingers and running through the channels of his knuckles. The heady aroma of sex and sweat was the starting pistol for Oliver’s own climax, torn out of him on a broken gasp as his orgasm ripped through him, grabbing at his breath as it grabbed at his heart. He squeezed his eyes closed, seeing shooting stars and the blinding white birth of planets, as he fought to fill his lungs in the heavy, sex-scented air choking the room.
Groaning, Joss collapsed on top of him, his body quivering and shaking, before he tumbled off to the side.
They lay together, their breathing loud and ragged. Oliver’s skin was already cooling, and he was sticky and clammy as his and Joss’ combined release began to dry. He should drag himself up, have a shower, both of them should, or maybe a flannel at the very least… Oliver turned his head to Joss, but whatever words he had melted to nothing in his rough, parched throat.
On his side, his damp, puffy lips slightly parted, his heavy hair messy and mussed, Joss was asleep. Oliver caught his breath. Beautiful. The word was limp and inadequate but it was all Oliver had for the man who’d breathed life back into his heart.
Oliver twisted the edge of the cover in his fingers, but he stilled as Joss shifted and moonlight illuminated the tattoo he’d once caught a tantalising glimpse of.
Just above Joss’ hip bone, a small sun and moon sat beneath an arch of rainbow stars. The work was exquisite, skilful in its simplicity. Oliver didn’t know what it meant, if it meant anything at all, but it was beautiful because it was part of Joss. Leaning forward, Oliver laid a gentle kiss on the ink, smiling as in his sleep Joss exhaled a long, contented sigh.
Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake him, Oliver pulled the covers over Joss, who murmured something soft and incoherent as he inched in closer.
Oliver lay on his back, his mind a calm and comfortable blank, as he relaxed into Joss’ warmth, staring at the ceiling before his eyelids grew heavy and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
TWENTY-FIVE
“Morning. You’ll be wanting bacon and eggs, I suppose? A big hearty breakfast to make up for lost energy.”
Joss froze in the doorway, his hand on the key still wedged in the lock. It was barely light, his plan to get home and creep up to his room without Gran seeing ripped to shreds as her deadpan voice trailed out from the kitchen.
Joss groaned. He might as well get this over with, although what exactly he had to get over was questionable. So what if he chose to come home at — he looked at his watch. Oh, 6:30 am… He was a grown man, a fully functioning adult, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to run upstairs and lock himself in his bedroom and cringe like a fourteen-year-old.
Gran was already cooking his breakfast and the waft of smoked farmhouse bacon made his mouth water. Gran looked over her shoulder, her razor thin plucked eyebrows rising high.
“You don’t have to try and creep in, you know, because you’re not my little boy any longer. I have to remember that, even though it’s hard to sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, I should have let you know, I, erm, wouldn’t be back.”
Gran shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, because I know you were in good hands. And so does half the village by now, I imagine.”
“What?” Joss’ stomach plummeted to the floor. As he’d let himself out of Oliver’s, whom he’d left sleeping, he’d looked up and down the narrow street. There had been nothing but silence, and nobody to watch him make his way home.
“You were seen looking very cosy at the Arms last night, and leaving together… Linda sent me a text. And Maureen, too.”
