Finally spent, Killy collapsed beside his bedmate, panting through the aftershocks, heart thudding wildly in his chest.
They lay on their backs on the sweat-soaked sheets, saying nothing, Tex resting a hand on Killy’s thigh. That wasn’t too bad. Killy reached over to lay his hand on Tex. Touching wasn’t as dangerous as kissing, was it? Despite having just come, neither completely lost their erections and they fully revived in no time.
Tex moved his fingers, his slight touches growing demanding, sexual, and he flipped over onto his stomach, jerked a pillow beneath his hips, and offered his ass up like a gift. He reached under the edge of the bed to retrieve a half-full bottle of lube and a battered box of condoms. Maybe he’d been toting them around awhile. Did that mean lots of jacking off and no real sex in this man’s recent past? Better make up for lost time.
Killy lubed a finger and worked Tex’s hole. Tex pushed back against him with a whimper. It’d been far too long since Killy’d buried himself to the balls in an eager body.
Soon one finger became two, Tex opening up to the invasion, spreading wide in silent invitation. Killy added more lube. Why did he bother? Why go slow? Normally, Tex would be fucked and forgotten by now.
Not going there. Too much thinking. Shut up and fuck. Killy sheathed his flesh in latex and pressed the tip to Tex’s entrance. He gripped the man’s broad shoulders and slowly eased in. “Damn, you feel good,” he breathed out on a slow exhale.
Tex hissed between his teeth.
“Need me to stop?” Please say no, please say no.
In answer, Tex lurched back, hard. Killy rammed in to the hilt, in one long, slick move.
“Oh fuck!” He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Tex’s hot channel gripped him like a tight fist.
“Yeah. And put your back into it, why don’t ya?”
A man after Killy’s own heart. Advance, retreat, advance, retreat. Flesh smacked flesh, the headboard beating a sharp rap, rap, rap, against the wall. Sex and Tex’s cologne filled Killy’s senses, and he angled his strokes, growing closer and not wanting to shortchange his partner. Huh? Since when did he care if the guy he plowed enjoyed the plowing or not?
Their rhythm faltered until Tex restored the tempo, slamming his ass against Killy’s groin in a frantic one-two beat. “I’m close, so close,” he mumbled against the mattress. He wormed a hand under his body. A litany of curses echoed through the room.
Husky groans mingled as Killy drove in all the way, knocking Tex off the pillow. Tex didn’t seem to notice, too busy frantically stroking himself.
Killy came with a strangled cry, filling the rubber in hard pulses. Damn! Wave after wave crashed over him. Tex went rigid beneath him, his litany of “Fuck!” and “damn!” muffled by a pillow.
Falling to the side, chest heaving, Killy sucked in air to catch his breath. Damn, that was… Damn. Just damn. Tex rolled over to face him, hardly winded. He studied Killian’s face. “Need a beer now?”
The power of speech having fled, Killy managed a nod. Tex peeled the condom off him and disappeared from the room. A flush and running water through thin walls marked his whereabouts.
He returned a few moments later, handing over an uncapped cold one, then sank down on the bed with a beer of his own, with a pillow for a backrest. “We’re alone, and you’ll be long gone tomorrow. Anything you wanna get off your chest, I’m here.”
Killy took in Tex’s casual “don’t matter either way to me” expression, which contradicted the message in those intense brown eyes saying loud and clear, “You ain’t gonna be here at midnight, might as well.”
Why should he tell his story to a stranger? Why the hell not? Without really knowing why, Killy opened his mouth and shared his biggest secret. “You know how the papers said the bus hit a deer on a slick road and crashed off the side of a mountain?”
“Yes. Some say that’s bullshit.”
“It’s bullshit,” Killy confirmed.
Tex sipped his beer, staring at the far wall and idly peeling the label. Bits of paper fluff floated down onto the sheet.
Killy grabbed a pillow and mimicked Tex’s pose against the headboard. Not facing the man meant he didn’t have to look into curious eyes. And if the cowboy asked the next logical question, Killy would shut him down. The minutes ticked away, the only sound the liquid burble