Snowfire Express
Page 2
“Holy -- fuck --” Thorn grits his teeth, gripping the base of his dick hard to keep himself from following Rae into the throes of orgasm. The over stimulation is nearly too much to bear, but he manages, looking in awe as Rae writhes on the end of his cock, rope after rope of come coating his belly as he shakes and trembles, muted moans making their way through wordless, broken whimpers.
It’s hands-down the hottest thing Thorn ever saw, and shit, he fucking needs to move or he’s going to die. He holds Rae wide open, the aftershocks of his orgasm still riding through his dick from within, and he begins to withdraw, grunting in the back of his throat as Rae’s ass squeezes him like a vice, as if he didn’t want to let him out, ever, and no, it won’t be magical, it won’t be romantic, but fuck he’s going to make sure Rae remembers it.
He pulls out completely, lets Rae’s ass brush against the frosty snow long enough for the abrupt hot/cold shift to run through him before hauling Rae on his lap again and diving home again, the friction unbelievable. Thorn knows Rae must be burning up inside with the force of it, with the overload of sensation attacking him from all angles, and he leans down to suck at the hollow of his throat as he starts a hard, fast pace, impaling Rae on his dick with every quick thrust, matching each and every one with a moan or a grunt from Rae’s shattered voice, more, please, yeah, God, yeah, mingling with Thorn’s name and uttered, unintelligible pleas.
Thorn’s sweat falls in his eyes, stinging, his panting breath damp on Rae’s neck. Rae grabs hold of Thorn’s thigh, pulling his leg closer. The shudder that racks through Rae’s body at the freezing impact shoots like electricity down Thorn’s spine.
Thorn pulls out again, holding Rae in place, body pliant and fucked out and sprawled on his sheets of twigs, leaves and white, and yanks him down on his dick just as he’s ramming back in, the change in angle having Thorn hitting Rae’s prostrate with every ruthless thrust. Pleasure runs through his veins like liquid fire as he watches Rae’s eyes roll back in his head, shutting tight as if he couldn’t take it all anymore, as if the feelings were too many, too raw.
It’s that look of absolute bliss that pushes Thorn hurling down the slope. He covers Rae’s body with his own, stealing his breath in a kiss as his hips stutter, back going rigid, one, two, three times before he smothers a scream in the abused skin of Rae’s throat, his world blanching out with a rush of blood to the head.
He doesn’t know if he’s awake until Rae grunts and mumbles something that could be anything, but that Thorn’s brain registers as “Squashing now, move.” He doesn’t know if Rae’s mind powers just spoke to him, and why does that make him feel warm?
Too many questions. Later. He pulls out of Rae’s body, wincing in discomfort, and tucks himself back in before valiantly rising to his knees to pull Rae’s pants up, snorting when he gets a half-hearted slap on his wrist for his trouble. “Do it m’self.”
“I can see that,” Thorn whispers, voice rough and fucked. He lays back next to him and sneaks one arm around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Don’ ’ven think ’bout it,” Rae mutters, managing a dazed glare before laying his head on Thorn’s shoulder.
“What the fuck ya think I am, one of those battery bunnies?”
“… for a month.”
He can’t see Rae’s face, but he knows he’s grinning, and how he knows beats him, but he’s not going to ask. Not now.
“Just so you know,” he hears Rae murmur after a while, and Thorn has to slowly blink himself back to consciousness to be able to focus on what Rae’s saying. “You’re carrying my bike to the next stop.”
Sophia Titheniel
Shy, bashful, Sophia Titheniel -- NOT! She’s part Elf, part video editor, part photographer. She likes her men feisty, snarky, and getting it on with one another!
Originally from Italy, Sophia’s now hopping the Atlantic to land in Vancouver, Canada, and looking forward to giving her professors a heart attack with her M/M projects.
Obsessed with caffeine, M&M’s (pun very much intended) and with everything supernatural, she’s known to carry her laptop to the most improbable locations (those include, but are no limited to, beach, bathroom, train, and day-job) to be able to finish whatever she’s writing at the moment.
Spirit Boys, her ongoing free serial, makes it’s home at http://titheniel.livejournal.com. Want to harass her to hurry things up? Drop her a note at titheniel01@yahoo.com -- Sophia would like to add she takes full responsibility for any thigh-clench and change of panties that might occur! ;) Enjoy