The ETA From You to Me

by Zimmerman, L

  Grant teased the pucker of Clayton’s entrance, pushing against the resistant muscle with every pass. He could feel the way the skin would tighten and twitch, and loved it even more when Clayton finally let out a low breath and Grant physically felt Clayton loosen up enough to let the tip of his tongue slide in. Of course, that made Clayton tense up again right away, clenching around Grant's tongue like a clamp. Grant brought both hands up to Clayton’s as cheeks, pulling them apart so he could press his face in and wriggle his way inside of Clayton.

  “Hhhnnn--” Clayton stuffed his face into the closest pillow, shuddering.

  Twisting his tongue, Grant couldn’t help but echo with a quiet groan when Clayton rocked into his mouth and forced himself to loosen up. Grant brought one hand down to wrap around the base of Clayton’s cock, tugging at it to pump him back to full hardness again. Clayton huffed, hips twitching, and Grant took it as his cue to lift his head up and look around for the lube. He used his thumb to flick the lid open, other hand still milking Clayton with a steady rhythm as he squirted a good amount of lube right on Clayton’s crack.

  Hm…

  Grant was in control of the lube this time…

  He lifted his arm, and squeezed the bottle into his fist. Lube gushed out in thick squirts, pouring all over Clayton’s lower back and ass in a glorious spray. Clayton jumped so hard Grant lost his hold on his dick, which was totally worth it.

  “What the--”

  “Payback!” Grant interrupted, and he couldn’t even control the wild-eyed grin he knew he was giving Clayton. It was entirely one of the most unforgettable moments of his life. Clayton on his knees, ass in the air and his skin wet and shiny with almost an entire bottle’s worth of lube gracelessly dumped all over him.

  “I’m going to--”

  Grant swiped his hand across the lube, pressing down on Clayton’s back to shove him into the bed. Clayton looked like he wanted to struggle--and he could, he was so much stronger than Grant it wasn’t even funny--but then he caught Grant's eye and he just… relaxed. Grant watched in detached amazement as Clayton clenched his jaw, forced himself to go limp, and then looked behind himself at Grant.

  “Are you going to hurry up, or am I going to have to finish myself off in the bathroom?”

  Well then.

  Grant shoved his hand into the lube puddled in the small of Clayton’s back, taking a second to trace the puckered dip and then bringing his hand between Clayton’s legs. He didn’t even give Clayton any forewarning before he slipped his index finger in just a tiny bit.

  Clayton hissed, and then the muscles around Grant's finger fluttered and practically sucked him in deeper. With each passing second, Clayton looked more and more uncomfortable until Grant twisted his fingers and grabbed Clayton’s cock at the same time he pushed right down against Clayton’s prostate. Clayton jolted, arched, and his left leg shot out like he wanted to pull away from Grant at the same time he rocked right back into his touch.

  Grant did it again, spreading his three fingers and pressing in just enough to get his pinky in--he’d rather Clayton be too loose than too tight. He wanted Clayton to enjoy this.

  “Like that?” Grant asked, because Clayton’s face was expressionless and his hands were flexing from where he’d gotten them pulled up by his face. Clayton darted his eyes down to Grant and frowned.

  “If I didn’t like it I wouldn’t let you stick your fingers in my ass, Grant.”

  “Ouh, touchy…” Grant grinned, rubbing up against Clayton’s prostate and watching in amazement as Clayton’s cock twitched from where it hung between his legs, and a spurt of precum dribbled out onto the bed.

  Grant pulled his fingers out, scooping up more lube from Clayton’s back and slicking himself up. Clayton was watching him with that same stupid blank face that meant he didn’t want Grant to know what he was thinking. Grant lined himself up, shifting forward on his knees until the head of his dick was teasing against Clayton’s hole.

  “Do you need help?” Clayton asked, looking at Grant like Grant didn’t know how to stick his dick in something.

  “Haha. Fuck you.”

  “I thought that was the entire purpose of this.” Clayton mused, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and shoving himself back onto Grant's dick--good god Clayton was still so tight and hot and Grant's hips were cradled right up against his ass. He was going to die. He was going to die a very happy man, but he was going to die nonetheless.

  “OhhhhhGod.” Grant stammered, his thighs shaking with the effort not to just start jackrabbit his hips and fuck into Clayton with reckless abandon.

  Grant bent down until his forehead was resting against the knob at the base of Clayton’s neck. He kissed the skin there, licking up sweat just to distract himself from how close he’d come to losing it right then and there. One hand fumbled down between Clayton’s legs, fisting his softening dick and going about bringing back to full attention. Clayton grunted, and Grant gave him a squeeze as he started to rock his hips.

  “Holy crap,” Grant groaned, pumping Clayton in time with the movement of their bodies. Clayton rolled his head back until his temple was pressed against Grant ear. Grant turned, kissing the high curve of Clayton’s cheekbone with a wet press of lips. “You’ve got, like, the Vulcan death grip on my dick.”

  “Shut up before you're banned from sex talk ever again.”

  Grant didn’t shut up, though, because he had no idea how to. Instead, he started to move his hand faster, feeling Clayton’s cock fill up and harden under his touch. He ducked his head down, kissing Clayton’s collarbone and then giving biting at it once. “Can’t, don’t want to. Dude, I mean. I don’t even know what I’m saying but you feel so fucking good. I want to just fuck your brains out and make you scream.”

  “Harder.” Clayton grit out, though it was more like an angry growl of a demand than a request. He pulled out, set his hands on Clayton’s waist, and snapped his hips forward and groaning at the sensation of being engulfed in that tight, wet warmth.

  Clayton grunted, reaching behind himself to grab Grant's wrist and pull him forward until Grant's chest was pressed into his back once more. For the second time in a week, Grant found his entire torso covered in lube, but he didn’t particularly mind because he was too busy thrusting inside the endless vice of heat that surrounded his cock.

  Grant curled his arm around Clayton’s shoulders, so that he was three inches away from bringing his arm up and choking Clayton. It made bracing himself easier, so Grant could push his legs up and thrust harder and faster with less to get in his way. Clayton was responding more and more enthusiastically, encouraging certain angles by digging his nails into the back of Grant's hand when he particularly enjoyed something. Grant bit down on Clayton’s earlobe at one point, panting heavily into the shell of it. Clayton stifled a quiet groan, and Grant felt the entire shudder that went down his spine as a result, until Clayton was clenching around him.

  “Fuck--fuck, Grant,” Clayton choked, dropping down onto his elbows and lifting his ass up in the process. It was like Grant was suddenly sliding right home, slipping in and out of him with perfect ease, where Grant knew his cock was hitting Clayton’s prostate because Clayton was hiding his face in his arm, muffling groans, and reaching down to jerk himself off with an increasingly frantic fervor.

  “Gonna--” Grant huffed, trying to tell Clayton that he was getting close and completely forgetting what he was going to say because his muscles just shut down on him and a fire lit up through his nerves. He fell forward, pressing into Clayton’s back and desperately fucking into him, trying to chase that cliff edge that had him teetering over the precipice of orgasm.

  He reached around, squeezing the base of Clayton’s cock while Clayton kept fisting himself, but he really couldn’t be of much help because his climax was hitting him like a two ton truck. Grant groaned, the air punched out of him and squeezing the moan off into a loud whine. He twitched and jerked his hips through his orgasm, spilling inside of Clayton
in forceful, wrenching pulses that felt like they came straight from his very core. He didn’t stop, though, he had at least another thirty seconds before he started to go soft. That was enough to keep weakly thrusting, trying to help Clayton get off.

  The best part wasn’t when Clayton tensed up, or when he hiccupped on a moan. It was when Grant felt the pulse of his cock spurting thick cum all over the bed sheets. He could feel the tight clamp around his cock; the vibrations of Clayton’s loud moan heavy against Grant’s chest. He stroked loose and fast, milking Clayton through his orgasm, kissing his shoulders and helping bring him down from the same high that he, himself, was experiencing.

  “Christ,” Clayton finally gasped, shakily lowering himself to the bed as Grant pulled out with a wet noise, “we’re gonna need to do that again sometime soon.”

  With that, Grant proceeded to drag Clayton in for a much needed post-coitus makeout session.

  He kissed Clayton lazily, nuzzling their mouths together with a contented sound. Clayton brought his hand up, stroking his fingers down Grant's jaw in a move so tender that it made Grant's heart ache painfully. He didn’t ever want this to end.

  He wanted to have this five, ten, twenty years down the road. Grant wanted to wake up to sleepy kisses stolen before the children woke up, wanted Clayton’s half-smiles and affectionate touches to be with him forever. He just wanted so much that it scared him and excited him to a point where he could only bottle it up and hope that things worked out the way he wanted.

  They kissed as the adrenaline and endorphins wore off; kissed until Grant was floating in a haze of lips and skin and numbness. He must have fallen asleep between one press of lips and the next, though, because when Grant opened his eyes again, Clayton’s head was pillowed on his shoulder, body curled around Grant's side.

  Blinking up at the ceiling, Grant turned his head to stare at the clock. They still had some time before they needed to get up for the day; Clayton was on call later and Grant knew he’d have an excuse to be out of class. Knowing that, Grant closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

  He woke up a second time to the feeling of stubble rasping over his throat, of Clayton inhaling deeply at the hair that curled just under Grant’s ear and leaving wet, sleepy kisses anywhere that his mouth touched. Grant grunted, and Clayton’s arms around him went tight.

  “I thought you’d died,” he murmured with a low and tired rasp. Just thinking about the fear and worry that Clayton and his father had gone through made Grant’s stomach clench with guilt. He brought his arm up, brushing his fingers over Clayton’s temple and then getting his hand captured and his palm kissed, slow and reverently. “I was going out of my mind; I couldn’t stop worrying about you, even after I saw you.”

  “I think I go out of my mind a little every time I see you,” Grant said quietly, because this was too intimate. He wasn’t allowed to have this. This was the stuff of true love and romance movies. This was the kind of thing Grant had spent years hoping for and dreaming of and always telling himself he could never experience it.

  Clayton snorted, glaring a sleepy eye at him and then setting his chin on Grant's collarbone. He slipped one hand along Grant’s belly, tracing the path from his navel down the vee of his hips and then back up. Grant squirmed, feeling hot under the intensity of Clayton’s gaze--the adoration and desire so bare that it was like Clayton was saying so many things without words. Grant brought a hand up, pressing it over Clayton’s jaw where his goatee was starting to grow back in, and then pulled him in for a kiss.

  Clayton sighed softly, his fingers turning into a full palm as he rubbed his hand up Grant’s side, muttering into his mouth, “can we just stay in bed for the day?”

  That brought a smile to Grant‘s lips, pulling away enough to say, “you’re so cute--I think you’re giving me cavities.”

  Hand resting along Grant‘s ribs, Clayton gave him the tiniest of smirks,“Good thing we have those painkillers to help you deal with it.”

  Grant laughed, taken by surprise with Clayton’s comment. It was so stupid, it shouldn’t have been funny but it was. It was because it was Clayton; and Clayton was the only person who could make Grant laugh at cheesy comments or make his heart beat faster at the sight of him.

  Maybe Grant really was allowed to have this. They didn’t always get along; they fought and bickered and there were times that Clayton looked ready to rip Grant’s head off--but that’s what made it great. There was nothing perfect about them and it made everything so much better because that‘s what love was about, right? Taking the bad with the good and never letting it get to you. It might not have worked for anyone else, but for Grant, it was exactly what he wanted.

  Grant must have been lost in his thoughts for too long, because Clayon shifted on top of him, pressing their bodies in close and forcing a soft groan out of Grant. It was a little uncomfortable, but it was better than sliced bread because Grant felt wholly loved when Clayton kissed him, arms boxed on either side of Grant's head, heart calm and strong where it beat against Grant's chest.