Late Afternoon Fun
The late afternoon sun bled through the blinds of Gabe’s apartment, striping the floor in bars of gold and shadow. His feet ached from hours of walking backward across the sprawling UCLA campus, his voice a little hoarse from reciting university facts to wide-eyed prospective students and their scrutinizing parents. He pushed the door open with a tired sigh, the familiar scent of home—clean linen and the faint, lingering trace of Tom’s cologne—washing over him.
He toed off his white sneakers at the door, a practiced, automatic motion, his white crew socks sinking into the plush pile of the rug. He padded into the quiet living room, expecting emptiness, the cool silence of being alone.
But he wasn’t alone.
The door to the bedroom was ajar. And on the bed, propped against the headboard like a king awaiting his tribute, was Tom.
He was a vision of raw, masculine leisure. His dark hair was slightly mussed, his chiseled jaw set in a line of pure, waiting intensity. His broad, muscular chest, dusted with a appealing mat of dark hair, tapered down to a tight abdomen. And there, the focal point of the entire room, was the proud, thick line of his erection straining against the white cotton of his briefs. The fabric was stretched taut, damp at the tip, and it pointed directly at Gabe like an accusation and an invitation. Below, his powerful thighs were sheathed in identical, stark white crew socks, the casual domesticity of them a sharp, erotic contrast to the blatant hunger on display.
Gabe’s breath hitched, all fatigue instantly vaporized by a surge of pure, liquid heat. His own blue eyes widened, drinking in the sight. Tom didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched Gabe with a dark, possessive glint, his expression stating clearly that he had been waiting for this, planning for this.
“See something you like?” Tom’s voice was a low rumble, a vibration that seemed to travel across the room and stroke Gabe’s skin.
Gabe moved as if in a trance, drawn to the bed by an invisible thread. He stopped at the edge, his gaze locked on the magnificent bulge in Tom’s underwear. He could smell him from here—that intoxicating mix of clean sweat, musk, and pure Tom.
Without a word, his fingers, slightly trembling, hooked into the waistband of the white briefs. He tugged them down, slowly, revealing the thatch of dark curls, the heavy sac, and finally, the erection itself. It sprang free, thick and veined, the dark head glistening. A soft, throaty sound escaped Gabe’s lips.
He let the briefs fall to Tom’s ankles, leaving him gloriously naked except for those white socks. Tom’s legs fell open slightly, a silent, commanding invitation.
Gabe’s own need was a frantic pulse between his legs. He shucked his own jeans and briefs in a few frantic movements, kicking them aside, stripping down until he, too, wore nothing but his white crew socks. The air felt cool on his heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire Tom was stoking inside him. His own cock, hard and leaking, bobbed against his stomach as he climbed onto the bed.
But he didn’t go for Tom’s cock. Not yet.
He guided Tom onto his side, then pushed him gently onto his stomach. Tom complied with a grunt, a predatory curiosity in his eyes. Gabe positioned himself between Tom’s powerful, sock-clad legs, his heart hammering against his ribs. The view was breathtaking. The muscular curve of Tom’s ass, the dark furrow between.
Bending forward, Gabe ran his hands over the firm globes, squeezing, kneading. He heard Tom’s sharp intake of breath. Then, lowering his head, he pressed his mouth to the small of Tom’s back, placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss. He trailed his lips lower, over the crest of his ass, nuzzling the sensitive skin there. Tom shuddered beneath him.
“Gabe…” It was half a warning, half a plea.
Ignoring it, driven by a desperate need to worship, to claim this part of Tom that felt so forbidden and intimate, Gabe spread him open. He exhaled a warm breath directly onto Tom’s most private place, and felt the man beneath him jolt.
Then he leaned in and licked.
A long, flat, wet stripe from his perineum all the way up to the top of his cleft. Sllurp. The taste was intensely masculine, clean skin and pure, musky essence. Tom groaned, a deep, ragged sound muffled by the mattress, and pushed his hips back instinctively.
God, yes. Gabe did it again, and again, licking and lapping like a man starved, his tongue exploring every inch, savoring the unique, addictive flavor that was Tom. He circled the tight, clenched ring of muscle, teasing it with soft, fluttering flicks before pressing the tip of his tongue against it. Pressing. Probing.
Tom’s body went rigid, then surrendered. A low, guttural “Fuck…” was torn from his lips as Gabe’s tongue pushed inside, just the very tip, breaching him. The sensation was electric, overwhelming. Gabe’s hands gripped Tom’s hips, holding him in place as he feasted, his tongue working him open with a desperate, hungry rhythm. Slurp. Schlick. Glrk.
The obscene, wet sounds filled the room, mingling with Tom’s ragged breathing and the soft, desperate noises Gabe was making himself. With one hand, Gabe reached between his own legs, his fist wrapping around his aching cock. He began to stroke himself in time with the thrusts of his tongue, a slick, frantic motion. Squick. Squick. Pre-cum slicked his path, his hips pumping into his own fist.
He was lost in it. The taste, the smell, the feel of Tom yielding to him, the powerful muscles of his ass clenching around his invading tongue. It was an act of submission that felt like the ultimate dominance. He was reducing this powerful, commanding man to a writhing, groaning mess with just his mouth.
“Deeper,” Tom growled, his voice thick and strained. “Come on, baby. Get in there.”
Gabe obeyed, fucking him with his tongue as deeply as he could, his nose buried against him. He was jerking himself off faster now, his orgasm coiling tight in his gut, a direct line from the passionate, filthy act of his mouth.
Tom pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, his own hand snaking underneath himself to fist his neglected, dripping cock. The bed rocked with their movements.
“Gonna come,” Gabe gasped, his words muffled against Tom’s skin, his strokes becoming erratic, punishing. “Just from this… just from tasting you…”
“Do it,” Tom commanded, his voice a dark, ragged promise. “Come all over my ass. Mark me.”
The permission, the raw filth of the command, was all it took. Gabe’s body seized, a white-hot wire of pleasure snapping tight. “Tom!” he cried out, and his release shot from him in thick, hot stripes across Tom’s lower back and ass, his body convulsing with the force of it. Splurt. Splurt. He collapsed forward, his forehead resting against Tom’s sweat-slicked skin, panting, his tongue still resting possessively against him.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing. Then, Tom rolled over with a powerful, fluid motion, his own need blazing in his eyes. He looked down at the mess Gabe had made on his stomach, a possessive smirk gracing his lips.
“My turn,” he growled, his voice dripping with intent. Tom’s eyes burned with a predatory hunger as he flipped Gabe onto his back in one fluid motion, pinning him to the bed with the sheer weight of his body. The sweat on their skin mingled, their chests pressed together, and for a moment, all Gabe could feel was the heat radiating from Tom, the raw, primal energy that made his heart race.
Tom’s hands roamed possessively over Gabe’s body, tracing every inch of his smooth chest, his toned abdomen, before gripping his hips with a firm, commanding hold. His lips found Gabe’s neck, biting down just hard enough to make him gasp, then soothing the mark with a slow, deliberate lick. This is mine, the gesture seemed to say. You’re mine.
Gabe’s breath hitched as Tom’s mouth moved lower, sucking a trail of fire across his collarbone, down to the sensitive peaks of his nipples. The wet heat of Tom’s tongue was maddening, each flick and suck sending jolts of pleasure straight to Gabe’s already-throbbing cock. He arched into the touch, his fingers tangling in Tom’s dark hair, pulling him closer. “Tom,” he begged, his voice trembling, “please…”
But Tom wasn’t done. He shifted lower, his breath hot against the line of hair leading from Gabe’s navel. Then, without warning, he engulfed Gabe’s cock in one swift, hungry motion. Glrk. The wet, desperate sound was obscene, and Gabe cried out, his hips jerking uncontrollably. Tom’s mouth was a furnace of heat and suction, his tongue swirling around the sensitive head before plunging deep, taking every inch Gabe had to give.
The sensation was overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once. Gabe writhed beneath him, his moans growing louder, more desperate. “I’m close,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Tom, I’m so close…”
Tom pulled off just long enough to growl, “Not yet.” His hand replaced his mouth, pumping Gabe’s cock with a punishing rhythm while his other hand slid lower, teasing the tight ring of muscle beneath. His thumb pressed in with just enough pressure to make Gabe gasp, his entire body tensing. “Now you’re ready,” Tom murmured, his voice dark and promising. “For me.”
With that, Tom positioned himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against Gabe’s entrance. He didn’t wait for permission—he didn’t need to. Gabe was already his, body and soul. And as he pushed inside, filling him completely, the world around them dissolved into nothing but heat, hunger, and the sound of their shared desperation.
be’s lips. Slap. Schlllp. Slap. The slick, wet sounds of their joining filled the sun-drenched room. Gabe’s legs were hooked over Tom’s powerful shoulders, his entire world narrowed to the searing stretch of being filled, the raw, masculine scent of their sweat, and the dark, possessive fire in Tom’s eyes.
“You feel that?” Tom growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Gabe’s very core. He punctuated each word with a deep, grinding thrust. “That’s all me. I’m what you need. This is what you’re built for.”
Gabe could only whimper, a broken, ecstatic sound. His hands scrambled for purchase on Tom’s sweat-slicked back, nails digging into the hard muscles there. He was so close, the coil of pleasure in his gut wound impossibly tight, every nerve ending screaming for release. Just a little more…
And then it came.
The sharp, insistent buzz of Tom’s phone on the nightstand. Then the ringtone. A generic, cheery marimba tune that was so violently out of place it felt like a physical assault.
Tom’s rhythm faltered. His head snapped toward the sound, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before it was schooled into blank neutrality. Carol.
“Don’t,” Gabe breathed, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, Tom. Don’t stop.”
But Tom was already slowing, his body still buried deep inside Gabe’s, but his focus fractured. He reached a long arm over, his bicep flexing, and snatched the phone. He held Gabe’s pleading gaze as he swiped to answer, putting it on speakerphone.
“Carol.” His voice was even, controlled, barely a hint of breathlessness in it. A remarkable performance.
“Tom? Were you running? You sound out of breath.”
Tom’s eyes, dark and intense, never left Gabe’s. A slow, wicked smirk played on his lips. He gave one slow, deliberate, shallow thrust that made Gabe’s eyes roll back. “Something like that. What’s up?”
Gabe bit his own fist to keep from crying out, the pleasure a live wire mixed with the agony of interruption.
“It’s Trevor! He got the acceptance letter! He’s going to UCLA!”
Tom’s smirk widened into a genuine, triumphant smile. He looked down at Gabe as if they were sharing the most intimate secret in the world. He drove into him again, deeper this time, a claiming stroke that was anything but casual.
“That’s fantastic news, honey,” he said, his tone dripping with a warmth that was entirely for the benefit of the woman on the phone. “Really fantastic. I’m so happy for him.” He paused, his hips still moving in a slow, torturous rhythm. “You tell him I said I’ll be out there to visit him. Frequently.”
He held Gabe’s gaze as he said it, the double meaning hanging thick and electric in the air between them. Frequently. The word was a promise, a key to a future of stolen afternoons in this very apartment. Gabe’s heart hammered against his ribs, the emotional shockwave merging with the physical, pushing him even closer to the edge.
“Oh, he’ll love that, Tom. I’ll tell him. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your… run.”
“Yeah. Bye, Carol.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone aside. It clattered onto the floor, forgotten. The silence it left behind was roaring, charged with a new, explosive energy.
“Did you hear that, baby?” Tom’s voice was back to its raw, carnal growl. He leaned down, his face inches from Gabe’s, his mustache brushing Gabe’s cheek. “I’m going to be visiting a lot more often.”
Then his rhythm changed. Gone was the interrupted pace. It was replaced by something feral, unstoppable. He withdrew almost completely, leaving Gabe feeling empty and aching, before slamming back into him with a force that shook the bedframe. Thump.
Gabe cried out, a sharp, unfiltered sound of pure ecstasy.
“That’s for you,” Tom grunted, his control shattering. “All of it. Every trip. Every lie. It’s all for this. For you.”
His thrusts became relentless, pistoning into Gabe with a power that stole the air from his lungs. Gabe wrapped his legs tighter around Tom’s waist, pulling him in impossibly deeper, meeting each savage drive with a arch of his own back. The friction was sublime, a building inferno. He could feel the rough scratch of Tom’s pubic hair against his sensitive skin, the hot slap of his balls with every impact.
“I don’t care about her,” Tom snarled, his voice guttural, his forehead pressed against Gabe’s. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Gabe’s face. “I don’t care about the kids. I don’t care about the fucking house or the life or any of it.” He punctuated each declaration with a devastating thrust. “It’s all just noise.”
He captured Gabe’s mouth in a searing, possessive kiss, swallowing his moans. When he broke away, both of them were gasping.
“The only thing that’s real,” Tom panted, his eyes burning with a fierce, undeniable truth, “the only thing I’ve ever really wanted… is you. I only love you.”
The words were the final trigger. The confession, raw and desperate and spoken in the midst of their most primal connection, shattered the last of Gabe’s control. The coil in his gut snapped.
“Tom!” His orgasm ripped through him, a violent, all-consuming wave. His back arched off the bed as he came, hot stripes painting his stomach and chest, his vision whiting out at the edges. His body clamped down on Tom’s cock, pulsing around him in rhythmic, milking spasms that wrenched a guttural roar from the man above him.
The intense, squeezing pressure was too much. Tom’s own release followed instantly, triggered by the feel of Gabe coming apart beneath him. He drove home one last, deep time, burying himself to the hilt as he emptied himself inside Gabe with a shuddering, primal groan. Nnnggh!
For a long moment, they remained frozen, locked together, the only sounds their ragged, ragged breaths and the faint hum of the city outside. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat and spent passion.
Slowly, carefully, Tom collapsed onto him, his weight a heavy, comforting anchor. He nuzzled into the crook of Gabe’s neck, his breath hot against Gabe’s damp skin. His arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, as if he could physically fuse them together.
