Excerpt from Quarantine

Rafe lay on his side in the antique four poster bed, curled around Dylan's pale form as though to protect him. One arm circled the ex-prisoner's shoulder. Dylan's butt pressed against Rafe's groin. His rising dick brushed against pale, smooth skin. Dylan stirred but did not wake, nestling more firmly into the hollow made by Rafe's bent spine and drawn up knees.

Wan sunlight filtered through the drapes. The window bars made geometric patterns on the oriental rug. Blood pounded in Rafe's cock and he thought about waking his partner. Dylan would no doubt be eager to satisfy Rafe's need, but the other man's deep, measured breathing made Rafe reluctant to disturb him. After the physical trials he'd endured, the guy needed his sleep.

Rafe's cock ached like hell, though. Lightly, barely touching, he rubbed his swollen dick over Dylan's ass. It was like fucking silk, stretched over taut, firm muscle. Pre-cum leaked from the bulb, reducing the friction even further. Rafe's hips began a slow, careful rock, sliding his cock up and down in the crevice between Dylan's cheeks.

It was fabulous agony, holding back this way, when what he really wanted was to pull his lover's cheeks apart, drill into the dark hole between them, and let everything rip. At the same time, the self-imposed constraint just aroused him more. Dylan's soft skin caressed his rod, teasing, almost unbearable. Rafe reined himself in, forcing himself to keep the rhythm slow, the thrusts gentle, even as his balls tightened and his cock screamed to bury itself somewhere hot, tight and wet.

He held back, wanting to prove to himself that he wasn't a selfish brute who'd deprive his lover of much needed sleep. His mind, though, took him in totally different directions. He imagined seizing the slumbering man, dragging him to his hands and knees, and slapping his ass, just to see the rosy imprint of his hand on that white flesh. He seized the reddened butt cheeks, held them open, and rammed his cock through the puckered entrance, making the other man wail and beg—first for him to stop, but soon, for more. In his mind, Rafe reamed the fag's ass, harder and faster than ever before, determined to show the kid what it felt like to be fucked by a real man.

All the while, Rafe worked his cock back and forth in Dylan's slick crack, hardly moving. He was sure he'd never come from such limited stimulation. The orgasm caught him by surprise. In his fantasy, Dylan yelled, clenching down and grinding against him. Rafe's balls tightened into hard knots and all at once he was spewing cum all over Dylan's back, biting his lip to suppress his own shout of pleasure.

Gradually his heart rate and breathing returned to normal. Smiling, pleased with himself, he pulled Dylan's sticky body closer to his own. He could still feel the slow rise and fall of the younger man's chest. Damn, but the kid was a sound sleeper! Then he realized Dylan's body was shaking with silent laughter.

"How long have you been awake?" Rafe demanded.

Dylan flipped over and planted a sloppy kiss on Rafe's mouth. "A while," he said, amusement sparkling in his emerald eyes. His rigid dick curved up to tickle Rafe's belly and Rafe's own recently emptied cock twitched with new life. "Now, can I have a turn?"

Back to Books