Zeko

A tongue more invasion than romance.

“They stand too close.

“Zeko presses closer.

“The black silk of his tie and the first three buttons of his shirt are undone before he opens the bathroom cabinet. The shirt is off and to the floor as he gives the cream to Reid. He stands closer. He stands far too close. There are no words Reid can say. Bounced in thirty seconds into touching the huge iron chest of a total stranger, and within a minute to the nipples that crown those pecs, his thumbs rubbing them to stiff peaks as the suncream highlights their tips.

“Within a further minute, Reid has the stud’s biceps in his hands, sliding the cream from fingers to collarbone, into the folds of the elbow, and up to the neck where the hard ridges of muscle slow him down for a moment, breathless. A smaller amount now, and Reid’s hands are on Zeko’s face, sensitive around the lips, delicate at the ear lobes, ticklish on the tip of his nose.

“No ice has been broken, no easy camaraderie established, yet already Reid has been taken further than in any of the seductions he is more familiar with and now sees as childish fumbles.

“In less time than it takes to blink he is hard, his cock blatant as it presses at the top of his trunks. The handsome god is towering over him, directing his movements with flicks of the head. Left, right, lower, round. He spins slowly so that Reid might take him in, drip cream at his neck to trickle down his spine; and when he turns to face Reid once more, the zip is undone, and the wrapping can now be removed. There is pressure beneath the fabric, pressure from a fast-growing cock that is the biggest Reid has seen to that point in his life.

“And Zeko flexes his ass once more, and the fabric gains momentum and slides to his knees, his cock springing onto Reid’s palm, even as Zeko takes the older man by the back of the scalp, and pulls him in tight for a kiss.”