played a role in his hesitation. He couldn’t give himself to one man but not the other. Besides—
With a growl, he yanked Ian out of the bedroom and into the living room. “You fucked me when you betrayed me to Itor,” he said. He didn’t mean to be cruel; if anything, he needed closure on that. “My turn.”
He spun Ian around and slammed him forward over the back of the couch. Roughly, he jerked Ian’s jeans and long johns down, leaving them tangled around his feet so he couldn’t move. As he straightened, he smoothed his hands up Ian’s long, muscular legs until he reached that sweet ass.
Spreading his cheeks with his thumbs, Tag pressed the flat of his tongue against Ian’s balls and licked upward, over his puckered hole and through the deep valley, all the way to the small of Ian’s back. Ian mumbled something, but Tag didn’t catch it, didn’t care. All that mattered was burying himself balls-deep inside the only man besides Justice he’d ever loved.
He gave himself a couple of strokes, and then cursed. “Hold on. Condom.”
Ian’s hand came around and gripped Tag’s hip before he could move. “Don’t need one. Pac-1 injection.”
Tag’s sex-logged brain didn’t process that for a second, but, right . . . at Itor, he’d also been injected with the combined contraceptive/anti-STD drug all of the super-agent types used.
It was the one thing Tag could thank Itor for, he supposed.
But there was still the matter of lube . . .
Three feet away, on the counter, was a crock of butter. That’ll do.
Keeping one hand on Ian’s back, Tag stretched for the crock, knocked the lid off, and dipped a finger inside.
“Hurry, Tag,” Ian said, his tone just shy of begging.
It took Tag two seconds to coat his erection and guide it to Ian’s waiting entrance. He wasn’t going to last once he was inside Ian, so he took the entry slow and easy for as long as he could stand it.
He watched the head disappear, Ian’s tight ass drawing him in. “Damn,” he breathed. “I forgot how . . . good you feel.”
Ian moaned and pushed back in response, taking Taggart deep. Silky heat surrounded him as Ian clenched and rotated his hips, demanding more. Hell, yes, after a year of missing this firm ass, he was going to get more.
He pulled back, nearly withdrawing, before punching his hips forward in a single, powerful thrust. Ian shouted in pleasure, just as Tag knew he would. Ian had always liked taking it a little rough, and Tag liked giving it to him.
He thrust again, harder, and the sofa scored the floor as it moved with Ian. Again, harder, and Ian had to brace his arms on the cushions as his hips banged into the back of the couch. Again, but this time, Tag reached around and fisted Ian’s cock.
Butter still coated his fingers, and he used it to lube that thick erection as he stroked. He circled his thumb over the crown, making Ian hiss and his cock jerk in Tag’s palm. He moved his hand lower, to Ian’s tight sac, skimming the pads of his fingers over the sensitive skin before pressing up into the seam and rolling one firm testicle in the way that drove Ian crazy.
Sure enough, Ian began a frenzied pumping rhythm that Tag couldn’t take, not when he was already on the verge of orgasm. Bending over Ian’s back, he kissed his spine as they ground against each other, taking and giving, the hard column in Tag’s hand pulsing in his grip.
Outside, the wind howled, fueling the storm of ecstasy raging through Tag as he pounded against Ian. Ian was urging him to fuck harder, and the slap of flesh on flesh joined the blizzard’s fury outside.
“Ian,” he rasped. “Jesus—”
A lightning strike of pleasure streaked through him, making him dizzy as the climax took him. He roared in blissful release, and Ian, usually the loud one, groaned as his hot cum splashed on Tag’s hand. The room spun, and so did Tag’s mind, because this had been the best sex he and Ian ever had. Yes, they’d had more creative
With a growl, he yanked Ian out of the bedroom and into the living room. “You fucked me when you betrayed me to Itor,” he said. He didn’t mean to be cruel; if anything, he needed closure on that. “My turn.”
He spun Ian around and slammed him forward over the back of the couch. Roughly, he jerked Ian’s jeans and long johns down, leaving them tangled around his feet so he couldn’t move. As he straightened, he smoothed his hands up Ian’s long, muscular legs until he reached that sweet ass.
Spreading his cheeks with his thumbs, Tag pressed the flat of his tongue against Ian’s balls and licked upward, over his puckered hole and through the deep valley, all the way to the small of Ian’s back. Ian mumbled something, but Tag didn’t catch it, didn’t care. All that mattered was burying himself balls-deep inside the only man besides Justice he’d ever loved.
He gave himself a couple of strokes, and then cursed. “Hold on. Condom.”
Ian’s hand came around and gripped Tag’s hip before he could move. “Don’t need one. Pac-1 injection.”
Tag’s sex-logged brain didn’t process that for a second, but, right . . . at Itor, he’d also been injected with the combined contraceptive/anti-STD drug all of the super-agent types used.
It was the one thing Tag could thank Itor for, he supposed.
But there was still the matter of lube . . .
Three feet away, on the counter, was a crock of butter. That’ll do.
Keeping one hand on Ian’s back, Tag stretched for the crock, knocked the lid off, and dipped a finger inside.
“Hurry, Tag,” Ian said, his tone just shy of begging.
It took Tag two seconds to coat his erection and guide it to Ian’s waiting entrance. He wasn’t going to last once he was inside Ian, so he took the entry slow and easy for as long as he could stand it.
He watched the head disappear, Ian’s tight ass drawing him in. “Damn,” he breathed. “I forgot how . . . good you feel.”
Ian moaned and pushed back in response, taking Taggart deep. Silky heat surrounded him as Ian clenched and rotated his hips, demanding more. Hell, yes, after a year of missing this firm ass, he was going to get more.
He pulled back, nearly withdrawing, before punching his hips forward in a single, powerful thrust. Ian shouted in pleasure, just as Tag knew he would. Ian had always liked taking it a little rough, and Tag liked giving it to him.
He thrust again, harder, and the sofa scored the floor as it moved with Ian. Again, harder, and Ian had to brace his arms on the cushions as his hips banged into the back of the couch. Again, but this time, Tag reached around and fisted Ian’s cock.
Butter still coated his fingers, and he used it to lube that thick erection as he stroked. He circled his thumb over the crown, making Ian hiss and his cock jerk in Tag’s palm. He moved his hand lower, to Ian’s tight sac, skimming the pads of his fingers over the sensitive skin before pressing up into the seam and rolling one firm testicle in the way that drove Ian crazy.
Sure enough, Ian began a frenzied pumping rhythm that Tag couldn’t take, not when he was already on the verge of orgasm. Bending over Ian’s back, he kissed his spine as they ground against each other, taking and giving, the hard column in Tag’s hand pulsing in his grip.
Outside, the wind howled, fueling the storm of ecstasy raging through Tag as he pounded against Ian. Ian was urging him to fuck harder, and the slap of flesh on flesh joined the blizzard’s fury outside.
“Ian,” he rasped. “Jesus—”
A lightning strike of pleasure streaked through him, making him dizzy as the climax took him. He roared in blissful release, and Ian, usually the loud one, groaned as his hot cum splashed on Tag’s hand. The room spun, and so did Tag’s mind, because this had been the best sex he and Ian ever had. Yes, they’d had more creative
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