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Part 3

Randy's POV

I let my breath out slowly, comprehension rushing through me.

“It does make you hard,” I murmured wonderingly, almost more to myself than to him.

I could feel his heart beating in his chest when I leaned into him a little more, shifting my hips on his lap to bring our crotches closer together. He still held onto my waist, his fingers tightening as I moved, his eyes locked on my face, watching me as I got closer.

“Rimming, huh?” I smiled, my mouth hovering over his. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated. Fuck.

“Were you thinking about giving, or receiving?” I rocked my hips, feeling his body move instinctively in response. I closed my eyes for a second, willing my body to wait, reminding myself that I shouldn’t just rip my jeans off and climb back into this same position, impaling myself on his cock. At least not yet. I couldn’t help the small moan as the mental image formed in my brain, though.

“Gale,” was all I could whisper, the ability to think receding fast.

“Stand up, Randy.”

His hands pushed me gently, helping me off his lap, his voice thick and dripping down my skin like honey.

I stood up, my hands caught in his as we stared at each other. His wide, beautiful mouth turned up into a small grin as he looked down at my waist, then back up to my face. Then he let go of my hands, his nimble fingers undoing my jeans before I even registered the fact.

He didn’t push them down, just opened my fly and stopped. I swayed a bit on my feet, putting my hands on his shoulders to steady myself when his warm breath hit my stomach.

“Mmmm,” was what it sounded like, but I couldn’t hear much over the rushing of blood in my ears.

I stumbled when his hands turned me by my hips, steering me around until I had my back to him. I wanted to look over my shoulder but was afraid of what I’d see. Afraid that I’d come in my pants if I saw the desire on his face.

I gasped when his fingers found the skin at the hollow of my lower back, stroking so softly I arched away from it and strained back into it almost simultaneously. His broad hands pushed my shirt up higher on my back, his thumbs rubbing my skin softly as I shuddered. He hadn’t even gotten near a part of my body that he couldn’t touch harmlessly in public and I was swooning, my heart pounding and my skin tingling.

I jumped when he pressed his lips into the curve of my back; soft, closed-mouthed kisses sending jolts of electricity up my spine. Moving into warmer, wetter kisses as he let his lower lip drag across my skin, his breath hot and moist.

He kept kissing as his hands slid lower, thumbs hooking under layers of clothing, pushing down. I choked off a moan, a small gasping sound leaving my mouth instead as my jeans pooled at my feet, the cool air bringing goosebumps to my naked skin.

His hands were still on me, trailing back up my thighs as the fabric fell away, then curling around my hipbones gently, holding.

“Wanted this…” he whispered, his thumbs stroking barely against my skin.

“Wanted it from the first scene, from the first time I ran my tongue down your back.” His right hand left my hipbone, making me jump when a fingertip dipped into the hollow of my back, trailing straight down.

Other fingertips joined the first, veering to the right, sliding down, following the curve. I moaned when they changed direction, cupping the swell above the start of my leg before feathering upwards again.

It took me a minute to realize he was talking again, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming me.

“Not that I would have…” His left hand started to move in tandem with his right, both increasing the pressure on my skin slightly. “Or even that I really wanted to in that moment, while we were filming.”

I needed something to hold on to, but the coffee table was too low and although the thought of bending far enough to reach it made me moan again, it wasn’t time. Yet.

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” His hands pressed harder, holding, kneading. “Thought about it every time I jerked off for a week.”

Oh god.

My knees buckled when his mouth touched the base of my spine, hot breath washing down, in, under.

“Want this…” his voice was muted as he kissed more, his lips burning my skin.

His hands got harder, rougher, forcing me to widen my stance to keep my balance. As wide as the pants around my ankles would allow. The pants thankfully keeping me from spreading myself and bending over.

“Want it,” he husked, his mouth rougher now too, open kisses moving from spine to leg, covering me in between. His arms slid around my body, holding me, pulling me back into his mouth.

I gasped, trying to pull away as I felt hot, wet suction – the sensation so intense I needed it to stop. He pulled off with a smacking sound, moving his mouth an inch away and starting again, his tongue flicking the small spot of skin he was pulling into his mouth over and over.

“Wanna mark you, Randy,” he growled, pulling his mouth away only long enough to speak, then moving to another spot to start another welt.

“Gale…” I gasped, my hands holding onto the arms he’d wrapped around me, trying not to fall over.

We were moving, rocking together as he pushed and pulled me, my hips unable to stay still. My ass was red and hot and bruised from his mouth and he just kept going, finding another spot, and another, all lips and teeth and wet, hot, mouth. He hadn’t even gone near my hole, his breath only barely skimming it as he moved to the other cheek, and I wanted to fall to my knees and beg him. Beg him to stop, to keep going, to do that there…

My legs gave out and I fell to the table, catching myself with my hands, his arms keeping me from crashing through it. It slid away from me as I fell, helped by my shove. He followed me, thumping off the couch onto his knees as my head fell to the carpet and my knees slid wider as I kicked off one pant leg.

“Down,” he growled, pushing me flat, his body following me, pinning me as he crawled up my legs.

I moaned as he covered me, my head almost under the table. He held himself up with his arms on either side of me, his hips pressed tight as he ground his dick against me, rutting, humping.

I could hear his harsh breath, feel the rough scrape of fabric over the welts on my ass. I pushed back into him, my own cock burning against the carpet fibers but the friction too good to stop.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his arms shaking as he ground harder, the movements jerky and fast. “Fuck.”

I could feel the rigid swell of his cock against the curve of my ass, pushing up, up, harder. My skin was almost raw but I didn’t care, just wanted more, wanted harder.

I stopped caring about the burn, about the bruises, all my attention focused on the rub of the carpeting against the head of my cock, Gale’s own frenzied movements irrelevant now too. It built, licking my spine, curling around my balls, begging, pounding.

I jerked up as I came, hitting my head on the table but not hard enough to care, the wicked pleasure pulsing through me over and over. He was panting, making little grunts of pleasure, of effort, his hips relentless against my ass. It sped up, faster, faster, until he jerked violently against me, shuddering and grinding for what felt like a perfectly suspended moment in time, both of us unable to breathe until he collapsed on top of me, his heart pounding like a racehorse.

We didn’t move for a long time, the physical exertion subsiding, morphing into post-orgasmic languidness. I was itchy, and I knew I’d have some seriously sore spots when I moved, but Gale was a dead weight on top of me, his breath ruffling the hair at the nape of my neck, his heart beating against my back.

“Did I actually just come in my pants?” His voice was hoarse but tinged with amusement.

I laughed, wincing as he shifted off of me. He lay beside me on the carpet, his nose tickling my cheek. I turned onto my side a little, hooking my leg over his.

“You did,” I nodded solemnly at him. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And I just came all over your carpet.” He laughed.

“Jesus. You’d think we’d never had sex before,” he sighed, still smiling.

“We haven’t had sex before,” I reminded him. “Together, anyway.” His hand was doing that thing again, tracing patterns on my arm unconsciously.

He shifted a bit closer, his mouth close to mine. I had to lean my head back so I could see him clearly. “And I didn’t even get to rim you,” he whispered, his voice husky again. Dear god.

My eyes closed when he kissed me, his lips soft and gentle at first, then fuller, wetter. We lined up more tightly against each other, our bodies naturally shifting to press against each other.

“That’s a solvable problem,” I whispered, pulling his lower lip in between my teeth, relishing his gasp.

It was my turn to gasp when his hand squeezed my ass.

“I can’t believe you gave me hickeys on my ass,” I muttered between kisses.

“Mmmm, too good to resist,” he teased, licking at my upper lip. He squeezed again, making me jerk.

“I’m not going to be able to sit down,” I complained. I didn’t want to think about why his hand pressing into the bruises on my ass was making me hard again.

“I know,” he smiled, eyes flashing. “But it’s going to make me hard every time I watch you try.”

I moaned.

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