Free Chasing Death Metal Dreams by Kaje Harper Page B

ass cheeks and push them apart. A faint dusting of hair lined his cleft. Nate wondered for a moment about the width of Carlos’s hips, the roundness of his ass, and then got angry at himself. Hell, he’d fucked a hockey player and no one had bigger asses than those guys. He slid his hands up the hard masculine planes of Carlos’s lower back, and along the hairy sides of his thighs. “Come on, Carlos!”
    Carlos smacked Nate’s thigh loudly. “When I say.”
    “Ow!” Nate froze for an instant. “Listen. One smack is okay. I’m not into spanking, and I’m not into pain.”
    “Good to know.” Carlos rubbed the slapped spot firmly, his voice quieter. “Me neither.”
    Nate wiggled under him, rebuilding the heat. “I am into fucking, though. Are you going to sit there and count my toes?”
    Carlos’s chuckle was deep and lush. “Eleven.”
    “What the hell?”
    “Toes. Must be a mutant. This one’s bigger.” Carlos reached down between his thighs and tweaked the head of Nate’s dick.
    “Quit that.”
    “Nope.” Carlos used his ass to keep Nate pinned down, while he rubbed Nate’s cockhead and fingered his slit. His hands might look smooth, but he had guitar calluses that caught Nate’s sensitive skin with perfect roughness.
    Nate groaned, his straining erection clamped down under Carlos’s weight. “Jerk!”
    “Me? Nah. Grab those supplies.”
    Nate reached sideways and grunted. “Can’t.”
    “Shorty.”
    “I’m taller than you. Lift your fat ass.”
    Carlos flicked the head of Nate’s dick lightly.
    Nate yipped, even though it had barely stung. “Lift your perfect ass then, so I can get a fucking condom.”
    Carlos rose up, strong legs braced, still holding Nate’s thighs lightly. Nate’s cock sprang upward from under Carlos, as Nate twisted sideways, dragged open the drawer and retrieved the supplies. Carlos reached a hand back. “Give ’em here.”
    Nate did as he was ordered. Carlos scooted backward up the bed until he was straddling Nate’s chest, and Nate felt both calloused hands going to his dick. Nate wanted to put a bite on that fat curve of ass in front of him but the angle was wrong. He dug his fingers in instead, and Carlos gasped. Nate slid a finger awkwardly to rub over his hole. “Gonna let me in?”
    “That’s the fucking obvious plan.” Carlos dripped a little lube into the tip of the condom, then steadied Nate’s dick and rolled the sheath over him. Nate shivered, the touch almost enough to make him come.
    He rubbed that waiting hole again. “Want prep?”
    “Nope.” Carlos smoothed the condom down all the way, then rose up again, on his knees above Nate’s straining dick, and reached his own lube-slick fingers behind him. Nate watched, his lip caught between his teeth, as Carlos attacked his own ass like he seemed to do everything, hard, two fingers together, insistent, pushing, demanding entry. Carlos groaned as his own fingers sank in, and Nate echoed him.
    “God, that’s hot.”
    Carlos grunted, sliding his hand in and out in a punishingly fast rhythm until he sank deep, then pulled his fingers away. “Ready?”
    “Fuck, yeah.”
    Carlos reached down to grip Nate’s erection in his fist, and lowered himself into place. Nate pulled at the covers with both hands, as the head of his cock pressed against Carlos, and stopped there, touching. He arched his back without thinking, pushing upward.
    “Hold still,” Carlos snapped. “Let me.”
    “Get into fucking gear then.” Nate grabbed Carlos’s hips instead of the sheets, going for leverage, but he managed not to yank downward.
    Carlos lowered himself, his hips making little circles, until Nate suddenly sank in one hot, tight inch. They both gasped, and Carlos sat down harder. His ass gripped Nate like a fist, tight and clenching and heated, slowly opening just enough for Nate to go deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until Carlos was seated on Nate’s hips, impaled and stretched and full. Carlos rocked