Chapter 45
When Quin backed up toward the couch, Jerry let himself be led. Quin stretched out on the cushions and lay back, his creamy skin pale in the darkened room. He took off his eyeglasses and set them on the end table by his head. To Jerry’s pleasant surprise, Quin’s eyes weren’trefracted by the lenses—they were large and round and deep, almost black in the dim lighting. Jerry thought if he stumbled and fell, he’d drown in those endless depths forever.
Jerry started to climb onto him, but Quin pointed at the table. “Condoms and lube in the drawer. I like you, but not enough to bareback.”
“Sure.” Jerry found a box of condoms and, plucking out one of the sealed little foil packets, dropped the rest of the box onto the table. He tossed the condom to Quin as he hunted for the lube. “Do you want to do the honors? Who’s on top?”
“My date, my ride,” Quin said. By the time Jerry found the lube, pushed back into the far corner of the end table’s one drawer, Quin already had the condom open and rolled down on his long, thin cock. He lay back, arms behind his head, dick jutting up like an exclamation point from the mass of curls at his groin. “Unless you have an objection…?”
Jerry squirted lube into his palm and fisted the rubber-sheathed dick. “Not at all. Damn, you’re bigger than I thought you’d be.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” Quin closed his eyes and leaned back as Jerry stroked his cock. A faint moan escaped his parted lips, exciting Jerry’s blood. “See? Now, this is what I’m talking about. Older men know just how to rub you the right way. God, yeah.”
His legs spread wider as Jerry slathered lube along his dick and balls. Then Jerry dropped lower, beneath Quin’s nuts, to rub around his anus. Quin’s muscles clenched, his sphincter tightening around Jerry’s finger as Quin writhed on the sofa. Suddenly Quin’s sardonic attitude dropped away as he cried out in pleasure. “Fuck me, yeah! Oh God, oh please, oh shit, yes! I could come right here.”
Jerry grinned and pulled away from his young lover. “Not without me, you won’t.”
Quin slapped his thin belly, the sound loud in the quiet room. “Then get up here already and let me see what you’ve got.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. Jerry clambered up onto the sofa, straddling Quin, who grabbed Jerry’s erect dick with both hands and started up a steady rhythm stroking the thick length. From base to tip and back again, Quin’s hands moved along Jerry’s cock without stopping, guiding him stroke by stroke toward release. It was up to Jerry to situate himself onto Quin’s cockhead, but when he couldn’t relax enough to ease the hard shaft in, Quin helped. Letting go of Jerry’s cock, Quin reached around Jerry’s hips and spread his ass cheeks apart, fingers diving for his puckered hole. One forefinger, another, then a middle finger, the stretch burning through him as Quin rubbed him open. Jerry sat on Quin’s hips and leaned back, gripping the narrow knees rising behind him as he clenched his buttocks, trying to pull those slim fingers farther into him. He rocked back, fucking Quin’s hands, and gasped with delight when he felt that thick, hard cock fill his ass.
“Yes!” he cried, wriggling his hips to get the full length inside. It filled him completely, and when it bumped against his prostate, he almost came in a rush of pure satisfaction. “Fuck, yeah, God, yeah!”
Quin’s hands returned to Jerry’s cock and resumed their steady strokes. Leaning forward, Jerry placed his hands on the cushion behind Quin’s head and matched the rhythm with his hips, thrusting back onto the thin cock, tensing his muscles to keep it inside as long as he could before letting it slide out a little, then in again, farther if it were possible, sparking the fiery lust rising within him. “Yes,” and “God,” and “fuck,” the words lost all meaning for him—they pushed free from his throat as he and Quin found the fast, furious rhythm of mutual release.
Then Jerry plunged his fingers into Quin’s thick mop of hair and lay down, his mouth finding Quin’s as their bodies melded together in an ancient ritual that cared nothing for age, young or old. They were just two men seeking solace and release, both of them giving and receiving, each making the other whole.
* * * *
Later they lay together on the couch. Quin was thin enough that, when he scooted over toward the edge, Jerry fit snugly between him and the back of the sofa. Jerry’s arm around his chest and leg draped over his hips kept Quin from rolling off onto the floor. An old afghan was draped over the sofa, which Quin snagged and pulled down over them. It grew warm and cozy beneath the blanket, and Jerry buried his nose in the hair at the base of Quin’s neck. The arm not around Quin was under his head, and Jerry had yet to tire of letting his fingers roam through that soft, thick hair.