Page 55 of Big Britches
“Yes. I’ll be your Prince Charming?”
“Wait. Why do you get to be the prince?”
“Um, I–uh,” Titus stammered.
Pedro chortled. “Relax, big guy. I’m just teasing.”
“You can be the prince if you want–or the king even. I’ll be your carpet, your throne, your carriage–hell, I’ll be your goddamn horse. You can ride me hard every day, put me away wet.”
“We already do that.”
“Not every day–” Titus squeezed him again. “But we could.”
Pedro relaxed deeper, tilting his head back as Titus nuzzled his neck. “I must admit that first night, I felt a lot like Cinderella.”
“No more roles.” Titus murmured, burrowing his face into Pedro’s hair, whispering warmly into his ear. “Stereotypes, whatever. Can’t we just be a family–you, me, and Tucker? Is that too much to ask?”
“No. It is a little fast, though. You sound more like Beast than Prince Charming, looking to secret me away in your castle.”
“Tucker loves that movie.”
“Tucker has good taste.”
“I wanna be your beast, P. Let me take care of you. Be my beautiful Belle.”
“I thought we weren’t assigning roles here.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“How quickly he forgets.”
“I mean it. I’ve waited a long time to find someone like you. If anyone tries to separate us, I’ll tear them apart.”
“That worries me a little.”
“I can’t help it. In that regard, I guess I am Big Britches.”
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on a little.”
“I have good taste too, you know?”
“You do. You also taste good.”
Pedro found Titus’s hand and brought it to his mouth, closing his lips around the middle finger and sucking on it.
“You start that–” Titus said, “–and you know where this is going.”
Pedro opened his mouth. “Yes, I do,” he said, guiding Titus’s wet finger down between his legs. “Now, let’s test the temperature down there.”
Titus found Pedro’s entrance, the moisture on his finger revitalizing the lubricant there from earlier. Pedro shifted, pressing back, and Titus’s finger slipped in, easy as pie.
“Ah,” Pedro moaned, a breathy, sustained utterance. “Hazme el amor de nuevo.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Titus asked.
“Yes, it does. Giddy-up.”
The sex was rougher, more intense than before. Pedro was not only growing accustomed to this, but discovering a new appetite for it. With their initial lovemaking, Titus was always gentle, almost timid. It was good but felt more like foreplay. Pedro attributed the tender approach to their substantial size difference, sensing Titus may fear hurting him. But on second rounds, in the dark like now, reigniting their lovemaking, Titus was always far less inhibited. It pleased Pedro beyond words.