Page 79 of Big Britches
Titus rolled toward him. “I want you too, P. So much it hurts. When you’re not here, I walk around this house so lonely. It never used to be that way. I can’t stop thinking about you… wondering what you’re doing, if you’re OK, what you’re thinking.”
“You’re obsessed.”
“I’m in love.”
“I know. You told me.”
“Aren’t you?”
Pedro almost looked down. The heated blush still came, but he forced himself to keep eye contact. “I am,” he said.
“I’m also horny,” Titus added.
“That makes two of us.”
Pedro stood, removing his clothes and retrieving lubricant from the nightstand drawer. Titus slid his pajama bottoms down. He was already hard, his cock thick and curved upward like a bow.
Pedro climbed on top of Titus, straddling him.
“Higher,” Titus said, scooting lower and more horizontal.
Pedro shimmied up, his soft cock stiffening as it swept Titus’s smooth chest beneath him. Titus grabbed Pedro by the waist, gently lifting to where he could see his underside.
“Now sit,” he said.
Pedro did, overwhelmed with instant sensation—Titus’s warm mouth, lips, and tongue on him. He relished the familiar sensation of Titus’s scruffy jaw prying his inner most thighs, and that velvet tongue exploring and slipping in.
Pedro reached out, clutching the headboard for support. He tried to raise a little, fearing he was too much weight on Titus. But Titus wouldn’t have it, grunting, pulling him back down, and probing more forcefully.
Pedro glanced over his shoulder, seeing Titus’s cock behind him pointing, outstretched and so hard, a glistening crystal drop at its tip. It looked as if it were straining, trying to elongate to reach him. Pedro reached back to touch it, perhaps stroke it, but the angle was wrong. Instead, he brushed its tip with his thumb, smearing the drop on his fingertips and grasping at the crown of Titus’s cock in vain.
Titus made a muffled grunt, lifting him again, setting him back down on his chest.
“I need to be in you,” he said. “Like right now.”
“I can tell.”
Pedro slipped back into his original position, straddling. He squeezed a small amount of lube from the tube and slicked Titus up. He loved how Titus watched him do it, almost feral, as if his every move was important and worthy of attention.
They both sighed as Titus entered him, his hands scaling Pedro’s stomach, chest, arms.
“Mm,” Pedro murmured. Titus’s heated penetration filled him with a comfort he’d grown to crave, all while balancing on a body so large that his knees didn’t even reach the mattress.
They weren’t at it for long before Titus sat up on his elbows. “Let’s switch,” he said, unable to play the passive role anymore.
Pedro grinned. “You lasted a little longer this time.”
“I’m going to let you go all the way one day. I promise. But I’ve got too much fire in me tonight. I need to get some of it out if that’s OK with you.”
Pedro leaned down, peppering Titus’s face with kisses, nuzzling his jaw and neck, whispering in his ear, “I’m counting on it. Fóllame chico grande. Fóllame como quieras.”
They scooted to the foot of the bed, and Titus stood, lifting the seated Pedro with him. He turned and set Pedro back down on the bed, raising his ankles to his shoulders.
The maneuver was admirable. Pedro was mindful of the strength and care Titus exhibited toward his comfort, never vacating, maintaining his warm presence within.
Titus leaned into him, pressing deeper.
“Dios mío. Your cock feels amazing. So hard, like a baseball bat.”