The Offer
by Wrestlr
12.
Dylan led him by the hand. They were walking down the path together, approaching the clearing, the perfectly calm, peaceful clearing that sometimes seemed like a bed. Around them, the breeze whispered in their ears, sounding sometimes like a voice, but mostly like shimmering leaves. Yeah, Jack thought to himself, I do like feeling relaxed like this.
Dylan turned and smiled at him, and Jack felt so much love for this man, so much love that it burned away everything else. Dylan wore only his favorite dark blue boxers, and the bright sunlight shone on his shoulders. Dylan eased his boxers down, teasing Jack by doing it so slowly, and stepped out of them, naked now, so gloriously naked, and already three-quarters hard.
Jack was still clothed. He looked around at the clearing, at the birds with the eyes he might someday, soon, be comfortable thinking of as cameras but for now still preferred to see as bird eyes, just staring bird eyes. Someday he would be able to see this as it was and still stay so focused and calm and relaxed, but for now, seeing the peaceful clearing was so much easier.
Jack looked at Dylan and smiled back. Dylan drew him close and kissed him. Jack did not want to think anymore. He just wanted to savor the kiss and the heat that it caused to run down his neck, directly to his cock. Dylan cradled Jack’s chin, deepening the kiss, stepping closer to grind their hips together, Dylan’s cock against Jack’s through the material of Jack’s pants. Despite the sudden ache, the need, in his balls, Jack did not fight Dylan for control, just met the rub and thrust of Dylan’s tongue and the shift and glide of his lips.
“Damn,” Dylan swore appreciatively, stepping back. His fingers trailed across the solid length straining in the crotch of Jack’s pants. Jack smiled his go-ahead. Dylan unbuttoned Jack’s shirt and pulled it off of him, followed by the tee-shirt. Then came the pants and briefs and socks. Now Jack was as gloriously, happily naked as Dylan.
Dylan drew him down onto the grass and moss. Dylan rolled onto his back, pulled Jack down on top of him. Jack looked down at Dylan’s erection and felt himself fall in love with it all over again. He bent his head to it and felt himself fall in love with every red inch of it as it slid between his lips, like his mouth had been made for it. He dove for it now, the crown of it gliding past his lips, then sliding along his tongue, filling Jack’s head with Dylan’s smoky taste.
A hoarse grunt, and Dylan’s hand pressed down heavily on Jack’s head. No need to urge him—Jack wanted to spend hours worshipping Dylan’s cock. The twisting vein, the spot under the head that made Dylan buck his hips, the feel of his pulse against Jack’s tongue. Letting the head slide on the back of his throat, Jack tightened his lips at the spot where the skin shifted color, and Dylan’s thigh muscles shook under Jack’s hands.
But Dylan knew Jack too. Slipping a hand between them, Dylan squeezed Jack’s nipple, tugged and pinched until Jack was whimpering around Dylan’s dick.
“Stop,” Dylan whispered, and pushed on Jack’s head off his cock. “Don’t wanna cum yet. Too soon. Want you to make love to me, sweetheart.” Dylan pulled his legs up, knees toward his chest.
Sweetheart. Not baby—that was Ike’s word. Sweetheart. This word would be theirs. Jack grinned and nodded.
Hands on Dylan’s shoulders, Jack flattened the larger man on the grass and moss and knelt between his legs. Jack’s cock was aimed right at Dylan’s ass. From somewhere came lube, a rubber. Dylan looked into Dylan’s eyes. The rush of fear and want in them echoed the tensing in Dylan’s legs even as Jack eased them apart. Then Jack felt Dylan’s leg muscles relax and saw Dylan’s eyes unfocus and soften. Dylan smiled, lazy and relaxing under this warm sunlight, this breeze, Jack’s touch.
Jack rubbed his dick under Dylan’s balls, across them, then over his cock, lube-slick. Dylan arched up as Jack pushed the shafts together, skin dragging sweet and good against skin, their dicks pulsing right next to each other. When Jack locked his hand on Dylan’s hip, he gave Dylan a look that he hoped said I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you and you’re going to love it. Dylan grinned and nodded his understanding. That handsome face hit Jack the same way every time he saw it—a hot rush of blood concentrating into his cock, setting a moan to burn in the back of his throat.
“C’mere.” Dylan grabbed the back of Jack’s neck and pulled him down.
Jack grinned through the kiss and pressed the tip of his cock into Dylan’s balls again before driving it up along the shaft of Dylan’s dick and sliding the rims together. Heat and a hard, slick pressure. What made Jack ever think he wanted to leave? He was happy here. He had to be here to be happy. He needed this, the shift and press of Dylan’s cock against his, the smell of their sweat together. He could not live the life his father set out for him. His life was waiting here all along, alongside Dylan.
Dylan brushed his mouth across Jack’s neck before fixing on his nipple. The first tight suck, the first hint of teeth, shot electricity from nerves that had a direct line to Jack’s dick. His balls tightened and he flung his head back. “Ah!”
“You like that, sweetheart?” Dylan’s hoarse whisper sent a good deep buzz through Jack’s balls.
All Jack could find the strength to say was: “Yes.”
Jack’s cock still glided along Dylan’s as their hips worked together. He was going to take his time, go slow, enjoy his first time fucking Dylan. That seemed to be fine with Dylan too. Every minute they stayed locked together, Jack would not have to think about anything else. Soon, nothing else would matter.
Jack eased back until his dick was riding the crease of Dylan’s ass. Dylan pulled his knees closer to his chest. His ankles settled across Jack’s shoulders. Dylan made a sound that might have been a growl or a laugh and drove his hips forward again and again, and he grunted, “Fuck me. C’mon. Do it.”
Staring at beautiful Dylan made thinking difficult. That was how Jack wanted them both to be right then, not thinking, just fucking, making love.
When Jack touched him with a lubed finger, Dylan’s eyes rolled up.
“Okay.” Dylan’s voice got more determined. “Fuck me.”
Jack pressed the broad head of his dick to Dylan’s ass, pushed it forward into the hole, stretching the opening. Dylan relaxed and the hole gave way, and Jack eased past the stinging resistance, swiveled his hips, and backed off. Jack did not want it slow; his body wanted it hard and fast, wanted to pile-drive Dylan’s butthole. Dylan had a tight grip on Jack’s hips, though, and they were going at his pace.
Jack’s body knew what to do. He nudged in again, shifted, and then shoved in all the way. Dylan groaned, making the same sweet sound getting fucked that he made when he fucked. The sensation and the sound flooded Jack with need. Dylan reached back between their legs, gripping Jack’s thigh to keep him tight and deep.
Jack needed to say their word: “Sweetheart … I wanna fuck you, sweetheart.”
“Fuck me,” Dylan agreed.
Jack started his first ass-fucking by instinct, using quick hard slams Dylan seemed to love. No technique, he realized, just animal rutting. His slams made them both pant loudly over the slap and thud of flesh together. Jack felt himself shudder, building a pressure that made him think he could cum from nothing more than Dylan’s ass milking his dick like that. Jack leaned forward and put a hand on Dylan’s chest and pressed him down so that Dylan’s hips tipped up higher and Jack stabbed his cock deeper.
Jack reached for Dylan’s dick but got his hand slapped away.
“Too close,” Dylan groaned groggily. “Don’t want cum yet. Wanna turn over.”
Dylan flipped onto his hands and knees. Jack inserted his cock again, feeling the heat of Dylan’s guts burn around his shaft as it slid back home into Dylan. Dylan was right; it was better like this. Better with the way Dylan’s body opened for him, with the way Dylan’s ass rubbed and squeezed all the right spots on Jack’s dick. Dylan had so much to teach him, Jack knew, and he wanted to learn everything.
“So good inside you, sweetheart,” Jack purred as a bird zoomed in for a closer look.
“Yeah,” Dylan grunted and tightened his muscles around Jack’s cock.
As they moved together, Jack stroked Dylan everywhere he could reach: the rigid muscles of Dylan’s arms supporting his weight, the sensitive edge of fuzzy hair at the nape of his neck, the big muscles of his back and his spine as it moved in a wave to drive his hips and ass into Jack’s thrusts. Jack loved the feel of his first fuck, so perfect. It would never ever be his first time ever again, so Jack had to make it last forever. He tightened his grip on Dylan’s hips.
Dylan’s voice grew hoarse as he panted. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” He reached back and grabbed at Jack’s ass and urged him faster. The rush of pleasure built in Jack’s balls.
Dylan tossed his head ecstatically and moaned, “Love you, sweetheart. Love making love to you.” This was the first time Dylan had said love. The first time any man had said it to Jack. The first time in a long time anyone had said it to him.
Jack loved making Dylan feel like that. He whispered, “Love you back, sweetheart,” and answered as well with the pulse of his muscles driving his cock in and out and the squeeze of his hands.
Dylan moaned so loudly Jack thought he had climaxed, but he just caught his breath and pushed back again, wanting Jack’s dick deeper inside. Jack grabbed Dylan’s shoulders and anchored himself there to give more force to his thrusts.
“I’m so close, sweetheart. You close?” Dylan asked.
Jack did not want to be, wanted this to last forever, but—“Yeah”—he was close. Jack leaned forward and ran his hands down Dylan’s chest, got a good squeeze on his pecs, rubbing the nipples over his palms as he moved the muscles and skin back and forth. A sharp spike of heat in Jack’s balls and he knew what was about to happen. “Gonna fuck you stupid, sweetheart,” Jack gasped.
“Gonna fuck you stupid too, sweetheart,” Dylan answered.
Jack did not want this to end. Not now. It felt too great. They could do it again later. And again. They had to.
Jack’s body spasmed. It was almost too much sensation, feeling Dylan’s guts clamped around him, that sweet, hot wetness enveloping his dick. He felt himself reach the edge of orgasm.
Underneath him, Dylan hissed, “Gonna cum. Fuck!” He shuddered, and Jack saw the red flush of Dylan’s orgasm spread over his face, his neck, and his back.
Jack pulled his dick out of Dylan’s ass. He fumbled with the condom—shit, how had Dylan made tugging it off look so easy? When he had his cock free of it, Jack started jerking off to follow Dylan over the edge into bliss.
Dylan groaned again and rolled his head to look at Jack, and that was all Jack needed. A few sharp tugs on his cock and he was shooting onto Dylan’s chest and face, thick ribbons of it as his body gasped out the sweet release. Dylan rocked gently against him until Jack stopped shaking and his breathing started to slow.
“Together, sweetheart,” Dylan murmured sleepily, as the breeze whispered like a voice around them.
“Always, sweetheart,” Jack happily accepted, and let his eyes close.