Bad Idea

by Damon Suede

  “You’re crazy.”

  Silas laughed and nodded. “Please. Please let me.”

  Trip braced his hands against the open doorframe. His eyes grew wide and dark, but he didn’t say no.

  “I’d suck it down there on the stoop if you’d let me. I’d love that. Eat every fucking drop kneeling on the concrete so they could watch you use me, put your jazz in my mouth.”

  “Je-sus.” Trip rubbed his mouth and his hot crowbar pushed at his waistband. “Things you say.”

  Silas hummed. “Make me.”

  Downstairs the voices on the stoop called out to someone. Trip’s shaky hands tightened into fists.

  Silas eyed him hungrily and coaxed in a hoarse whisper, “Stay here. Don’t hide.” He licked his wet, loose lip and chewed lightly at the stiffness through the denim.

  Trip groaned but made no move to either stop or help. He gripped the doorframe, his fingers white-knuckled under the ink stains. He opened and closed his mouth.

  “Shh. Let me have it.” Silas took a deep satisfied breath and nosed against the rigid bulge. “I missed you so much.” Trip cautiously pushed his hands into Silas’s hair. “Yeah?”

  Their breathing and the laughter of the guys downstairs were the only sounds in the low-ceilinged stairwell.

  Trip whispered. “You wanna get caught?”

  “Naw. I wanna give in. That’s my…” He glanced at Trip’s erection again. “…weakness.”

  “Okay… okay.” Trip’s legs tensed, but he fumbled with his buckle and zipper until he exposed his gray briefs and the dark spot punctuating the front. “I have a goddamn wet spot.” He flipped the front of his briefs down and the lazy length of his cock swung free.

  Silas didn’t bother to nod. He leaned forward again, but Trip stepped back into the dark apartment. Silas squeezed the base and Trip’s cock flushed dark red and veiny. “Fucker.”

  A pearl of precum welled at the plump crown. Trip wiped it with his thumb and offered it. Silas grunted and knee-walked forward, then sucked the entire salty thumb down to the flesh of Trip’s palm. The thumb scraped at the back of his throat, but he made a real show of sucking the thumb hard.

  “Okay. Okay.” Trip reached down and clasped his shoulders. “C’mere.”

  Silas rose and his pants fell to his knees. He shoved down the purple cotton so his broad cock bounced in front of him.

  Trip glanced at the stairwell. “I get it. I think. But you got a streak in you. Exhibitionist.”

  Silas pushed the elastic of Trip’s briefs under his nut sack, then scraped his belly with rough fingers. “’S’good to me.”

  Trip jerked and spun him so they faced the street downstairs, his stiffness wedged between Silas’s bare cheeks. “You’re so….”

  “What?” Silas gasped.

  Trip reached around his chest and plucked at his stiff nipples through cotton. “Strong.”

  Silas rolled his head back onto Trip’s shoulder, pushing his chest forward.

  Trip snaked a hand under the collar of his knit shirt and over the muscle, fishing for the firm tips.

  Silas flinched. “You could make me come like that.” His glutes gripped Trip’s cock.

  “Yeah?” Trip pinched down, milking a hiss of borderline discomfort, but Silas didn’t complain.

  “Mmm.” Silas breathed through his mouth. He pushed his hips back insistently. “For real. So sensitive.” No kidding. Sweat bloomed as he ground against Trip’s weight, his skin hot as a griddle.

  Trip let go and cupped the square pectorals. “When I was in college, I had a boyfriend who had a thing for nipples. He would just work on them and work on them until I lost my gourd.”

  Silas panted and ground back slowly. Trip extracted the hand and then rucked the shirt up over Silas’s torso.

  “I dunno what to do with you.” Trip licked his ear. “One of these days I’m going to tie you down in my secret lair.” He bit the lobe and squeezed Silas’s neck hard. “And then what’re you gonna do, mister?”

  “Let you.” Silas gasped and didn’t close his mouth.

  “You would, wouldn’t you? Full permission.” Trip ran a hand down Silas’s back till the digits pressed against his butthole.

  Silas hissed and held his breath.

  “You’d let me hogtie you. I bet I could make you come with just my fingers in your butt. Huh?” He pressed two hard against the opening. “Two or three?”

  Silas pushed back.

  “Hungry.” Trip ran his chin over the abused skin of his neck.

  Silas swayed forward with his hips, and the ruddy jut of his erection drilled the air. He gazed back over his shoulder with lazy admiration.

  “I don’t even think I’d need to help. I’d just push inside, and you could fuck yourself on my hand.”

  Trip’s feverish patience drove Silas out of his mind. Instead of breathless fumbling, sex with Trip always had a razor intensity, as if he were memorizing something under the skin, but doing it with his whole body.

  “Gawd.” Silas closed his eyes and flushed bright red. “So much for nice Jewish boy.”

  Trip kicked the backpack and groceries inside, pushed the door shut, and pulled Silas farther into the apartment toward the sitting area and an overstuffed armchair large enough for both of them.

  Lube on the end table told Silas plenty about what Trip had done to keep busy the past few weeks. Trip dropped into the chair and pulled Silas onto his lap, one lean arm around his waist.

  “Too heavy!” Silas protested but couldn’t stay on his feet. “Wait—”

  But Trip wouldn’t. His pole reared up, rested against Silas’s balls. Trip ferreted a rubber out of an end table drawer and handed it to Silas. “And you better grease it or you’ll be sorry.”

  Silas pumped lube into his hand and rolled the latex down the broad tusk that reared under him. Silas reached to line things up and stopped at his entrance. No way he could take Trip without any prep.

  “Easy, fella.” Trip kissed his neck. “I gotcha.”

  Silas juddered. His butt ached, and his heart thumped as he bore down, tried to open himself by force.

  “Hush.” Trip scraped those elegant hands over his skin, ungently. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Silas hissed and clamped his mouth in frustration. If he could stretch himself, he’d be able—

  “Shhhh. You’re fine where you are. Who’s rushing now?” Trip’s lips were against his throat and the narrow hips flexed under him a little. Trip stroked his thighs, pale skin on tan.

  Silas relaxed a little, easing back.

  “Stay with me.” Trip nuzzled at his shoulder. “You smell so good.” He took a deep breath. He slid fingers between their stacked legs and tested the point where they intersected. “You feel that?” The knob was half-inside but wouldn’t budge.

  Silas groaned assent. It burned. Lube ran down his inner thigh. He gripped the plush arms of the chair.

  “I need to be inside you, but I got all the time. You taught me.” His stiffness flexed. “Alla time in the world for you, man.” He stroked the hole and his own hard-on.

  Silas gasped. His butthole rolled open and he pushed himself down. The welcome pain took his breath away. His eyes smarted.

  “C’mere, big guy. Give it all to me. Gimme all of it.”

  Silas slid inch by exquisite inch onto the hot spike, impaling himself until he sat directly on Trip’s lap. “Whhuuhhh.”

  “There it is.” Trip wrapped his arms around Silas and completely pulled him back to rest his full weight against Trip. “Let go. Let me have all of you. Lean back.” He rocked his pelvis and slid out a few slow, punishing inches.

  Warily, Silas lay back on top of him and tried to catch his breath.

  Trip squeezed his ribs and rocked back into him.

  Silas gasped. “Nhhauuuhhh!”

  Trip slipped his arms around the armpits and up to the back of Silas’s neck, sort of a half nelson.

  “Ungh. Trip.” Silas purred. “Guh. Go s
low, go slow.” He twisted to bring their mouths together, but the angle was wrong. He braced himself against the sides of the armchair and twisted left.

  Trip shifted in the other direction and leaned forward to kiss Silas properly, nursing at his tongue. He jerked his hips sharply to make Silas see sparks.

  Much better.

  Silas flinched and opened his eyes. His own hardness was wrapped in Trip’s roving hands for the moment. “Ahh—yeah… even slower if you can. Let me feel it. Make me feel it.”

  Trip obliged happily, dragging his cock out with obsessive patience….

  “Tri-ip.” Silas shook and squirmed against the snaky strength of that torso. His oozing hard-on bobbed before him.

  “Grunt for it. You’re so beautiful like this.” Trip twisted Silas’s mouth to meet his. “You’re pulling me back inside. You feel that? Your body wants it.”

  Silas moaned. His cock was inflexible against his bent thigh, and a strand of sap draped from the crest to his creased belly. It bounced with each thrust, and he arched his back to drive Trip deeper. “Touch me.” Silas loved that breathless, skewered feeling of being taken. Manhandled.

  Every third or fourth thrust, Trip ground his hips, drove impossibly deep and pulverized that place inside Silas that made his eyelids close and the breath rush out of his lungs. The squelch of it should have embarrassed him, but it didn’t.

  Without warning or comment, Trip tipped him out of the chair and forward onto his stomach on the rug, then flipped him over so they faced each other. His veiny cock swung slick before him. “Y’okay?”

  “H’yup.” Silas stared at the branched vein that ran over the top of Trip’s shaft and then wrapped to the left. “Please.” He hissed, bent his knees, and pulled his legs back against his chest, exposing himself without touching his boner.

  Trip squinted experimentally and pushed demanding fingers into the sloppy, swollen hole. “So open. I love it wet like this.”

  He squirted more lube into his hand and angled that chunk of meat back toward him. Trip shifted forward, and the stiffness slipped past the hole. Their hands fumbled for a moment as they lined things up and then—

  “Awwhh!”

  Trip speared him in one brutal thrust that knocked the breath out of him. The stretch stayed just this side of impossible. He stayed buried and worked his hips in a tiny spiral.

  Silas whispered and choked. “Again.” His cock was ruddy brown and crushed between them.

  Trip pulled back, rammed home again, sheathing himself. Sweat dripped from his pale chest.

  Silas hooked one leg over Trip’s arm and drew it to his own ribs, so that Trip fucked him sideways at a slight angle, cradled and drilled him at the same time.

  Trip planted himself hard and took his sweet-ass time pulling out. “Wow.”

  Silas shook his head in wonder. “I can’t….”

  “Then hold on to something. I’m just getting started.” Without warning, Trip slammed his pelvis against Silas’s and the full length—ohmygod—drilled into him to the root.

  Silas took exactly no seconds to pull Trip closer and brace one arm against the wall.

  “So sweet inside.” Again Trip drove closer.

  Silas’s eyes watered. Gooseflesh puckered his skin and his nipples burned. The tender ferocity short-circuited something in his brain.

  Again. As Trip slid free, he closed his lemur eyes and a grin haunted one corner of his soft lips. The fatness slithered out with exquisite delay. Trip’s shaft felt thickest in the middle, like a torpedo, so it slipped in easily and stayed lodged a moment after it touched bottom, but the middle breadth took effort.

  Silas grunted each time Trip touched bottom, and his gaze stayed nailed to the juncture of their bodies and the wet slap of their skin. “Trip.” He shook his head in slutty wonder.

  Trip dragged his boner nearly free again, stopping just at the swollen ridge. He waited for several heartbeats, feeling the pulse where they intersected.

  Silas offered his neck to Trip’s mouth and squeezed him closer. Another two or three thrusts and he would be a goner. Nectar welled at the tip of his cock, then cast a glimmering thread toward the crisp hair of his abdomen. His ass clamped involuntarily, and Trip squawked in surprise. “Sorry.”

  Trip ground deep a moment, stretching him.

  The delicious, relentless itching built until Silas couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His cock swelled perilously, rigid and trembling with the crazy rhythmic pressure from inside and out. “Wait. Wait-wait. Too soon,” He begged and gasped. “Go slow.” His eyes drifted shut. “Take your time. Aaggggh. Make me feel it.”

  “Not hardly.” Trip’s eyes twinkled as he strained forward to press his forehead against Silas’s temple. “Slow?”

  “Umm.”

  “How… slow?” Trip drew out again, gradually, and then rather than slamming, thrust with equal, evil patience.

  “Hey,” Silas almost whined. The panicked tickling sensation took him over again; his legs twitched and his toes bunched hard as he struggled toward his release.

  “Hey, what?” Trip gritted his teeth and inhaled. His heart knocked at the side of Silas’s ribs. “Hey… what?” Still he took his time, skewering Silas gradually.

  Horrible. Perfect. Silas could scarcely get oxygen into his lungs.

  “Make me….” Silas gripped the slim hips in tense fingers, delaying it even further. The belly of the shaft slid over that crazy place inside him that made his head fall back and his mouth fall open. He sobbed and panted insensibly. “Guh-ungh.”

  “Good?” Trip whispered.

  But no words came out of Silas’s mouth, so he answered with a crooked nod. Even moving his head took effort while that monster held him open and his prostate struggled to keep its molten cargo.

  “Good.” Trip petted his belly in lazy circles. “Good.”

  Silas’s skin itched uncontrollably, as if a million eyelashes grazed his limbs. His mouth had dried and the syllable he managed didn’t make a word. “H’yuh.”

  He squirmed in the sweat that poured off both of them, and the spit from kissing too hard smeared into their stubble. Beast. Frantic but unable to stop himself.

  Trip lifted up to stare wide-eyed, presumably at where his blunt truncheon sawed in and out by degrees. He reached down and palmed the heft of Silas’s sack for a better view. He smiled. “Wow.”

  “No—hffft—kidding.”

  Trip fell forward and slipped his arms up the wet planes of Silas’s legs, folding them back until his knees pressed against his broad chest.

  “Closer.” Silas gathered the lean torso into his arms, cradled him close, and squeezed Trip into him with thick thighs. The heavy cock gouged ecstasy from his clenching ass.

  He’d never felt so alive, so aware of every part of his body.

  Between Trip’s stomach and his own hip lay Silas’s blood-hot club, trapped at a freaky, almost painful angle. He hunched hungrily against the wet skin. The scalding pressure stood his hair on end. The squeezing, fluttery tickle inside his ass swirled outward, licked his abdomen, his nipples, and his groaning mouth. He clutched at Trip’s slippery arms.

  Almost. He was almost….

  Trip grunted and humped against him in short steady strokes. His eyes narrowed to slits, his mouth open.

  Silas barked and arched, “I’m nearly—” Flying. A sharp gasp and his eyes blazed wide.

  Switt. Swiiit-thwit.

  He bowed hard as the lava burst from him onto his face and shoulder and Trip as well. Somewhere above him, Trip yelped and squeezed him hard at the same time before he fell forward.

  Oh God. Together.

  His spooge was so thick it made pattering sounds as it hit skin and floor, and his ass clamp-clamped on Trip, buried to the root, skewering him to his core. Trip twitched and gripped him so hard Silas could scarcely breathe.

  Wild with release, Silas roared and squirmed and curled to get their bodies as close as possible, to mark his territory. He licked their
salt off Trip’s sternum and wrapped him close with wet arms and thighs, fusing their skin and wiping the cum between them like scalding syrup. I missed you.

  “Thank you.” He wiped Trip’s damp chest and sighed in relief.

  “Was it too much?”

  “’S’super, man.” Silas smiled to himself drunkenly as he reveled in the wet skid of Trip’s corded arms looped around his trunk, grinding close as he dared.

  “Fuck off.” Trip giggled. “You’re Superman.”

  “Then you gotta be Clark.” Silas chuckled. “No wonder Superman always had Clark Kent inside him.”

  “Truth. Poor Lois Lane.” Trip laughed once, laughed again; then his eyelids drifted closed.

  Silas kissed his stark collarbone and let his head drop back as he tried to catch his breath. “I think you gave me a hickey.”

  Trip shivered a moment and hunched deeper before he carefully glided free. “Good.”

  Silas gasped at the loss and the sting. His cock nestled in a cocoon of hot jam, but the crazy, shaky bliss wouldn’t leave him.

  “Mr. Goolsby.” Trip patted him with wet hands anywhere he could reach. “What the hell did you do to me?”

  What didn’t I do? Silas shrugged a shoulder and winked. “I—” He looked across the slick slope of their bodies. “—am just getting started, Mr. Spector.”

  They must have dozed for a while, and Trip must have pulled a blanket onto them, because Silas woke up tangled in pale limbs and hypoallergenic fleece.

  The clock said 1:00 a.m. Outside, the moon hung high over the Village, exactly the color and texture of unpainted latex.

  He didn’t want to wake Trip, so he stayed put. He enjoyed the gentle weight stretched over him, the rise and fall as Trip breathed. Occasionally he stroked Trip’s back.

  “Mmm. Love how they feel.” Trip’s drowsy words were smushed against his chest. “Rough.” He wriggled to his side, with only his naked leg thrown over Silas.

  Silas spread his fingers and frowned. “My fucked-up hands.”

  Trip gave a slow, appreciative whistle. “Nuh-uh. Sexy.”

  “I always tell people I got it doing construction. Working with toxic waste.”

  “You mean like acid?” He balanced his chin on Silas’s pec.