The snow had already covered the pavement by the time Callum and Jamie stopped under the trees, the flakes still coming down in a thick slant that caught the streetlight and turned the parked cars along the kerb into a row of white shapes. Callum had his hand on the back of Jamie’s jacket and Jamie’s mouth was already on his, the kiss deep enough that Callum could feel the heat of him through the cold on their faces. The bomber kept most of the night off Callum’s chest. Jamie’s fingers found the open edge of it and slid inside against the cotton of the tank, spreading there like he needed the skin under the fabric as much as the kiss itself.
They stood in the middle of the path kissing as if the street belonged to them. Jamie’s body pressed in along Callum’s front. Callum could feel the shape of him through the black trousers, the weight of that cock starting to sit forward as they stayed locked together, and the knowledge of it landed in him as a low pull he did not bother to hide. Snow landed on Jamie’s hair and melted into it. Callum tasted the cold on his lips and the heat underneath that cold, and he kept his hand where it was on Jamie’s back because moving it would have meant letting the street back in.
A car passed at the far end of the block. The headlights swept the face of the building and kept going. Callum did not pull away. Jamie’s hand dropped to the front of Callum’s jeans and stayed there, palm covering the bulge that had begun to fill out against the denim, the pressure of that palm making Callum’s hips tip forward without any decision on his part. The weight of Callum’s own cock answering Jamie’s hand registered clearly. He wanted more of it. He wanted Jamie’s fingers inside the zip.
“Here?” Jamie said against Callum’s mouth, the word coming out longer than it needed to, breath warm across his cheek as his palm kept that pressure on him. “Right here on the street, with the snow coming down like this and anyone who walks this way getting a full look at what you’re packing, because I can already feel it filling out under my hand and I am not taking that hand off.”
“Keep your hand there,” Callum said, the answer running on because the heat of Jamie’s palm and the cold on his face were doing the talking as much as he was. “Feel it filling out for you. The cold’s on my face and your palm’s on my cock and I am not moving off this pavement, so you keep rubbing it through the denim until you get it out.”
Jamie worked the button. The zip followed with a small sound that seemed louder than it should have been in the open air. Night air hit the skin as he tugged the waistband down enough to free Callum. Callum’s cock came out into the falling snow still heavy and only partway hard, the shaft hanging forward off the open jeans, the head darkening as blood moved into it. The cold registered along the length in a sharp line that made the whole piece twitch in the space between them. Jamie’s fingers wrapped the base and the heat of his hand cancelled the air at once, and the contrast of that heat against the night sat low in Callum’s gut as a clear want.
Callum looked down. The sight of his own cock in Jamie’s fist on a public pavement did more work than any thought he could have formed about it. Snowflakes caught on the back of Jamie’s wrist. Jamie gave a slow pull from base toward the head and Callum felt the skin move, the weight of it lifting as it filled further in his grip, the head pushing into the circle of his fingers with each pass. Callum watched that happen. He let himself watch it.
Jamie went to his knees. The snow took him with a dull crush under the black trousers, the sound of it brief and real. He was eye-level with Callum’s cock now, mouth open, and he leaned in and took the head between his lips. Heat closed over Callum. He made a sound he did not mean to make and put his hand on the back of Jamie’s head, not pushing, just holding him there while Jamie’s tongue worked under the head and his fist stroked what he had not taken yet. The wet seal of Jamie’s mouth on the most sensitive part of him pulled Callum’s attention down into that single point of contact until the rest of the street sat at the edge of it.
The road stayed empty in both directions. Flakes kept coming down and gathered on the shoulders of Jamie’s jacket, white on black. Callum watched his cock slide into Jamie’s mouth, the lips stretching around the shaft, spit starting to shine at the corners. Jamie took more of it. The head bumped the back of his tongue and he stayed there, breathing through his nose, the cold rising off the snow around his knees and the heat of his throat holding Callum. Callum registered the risk of standing like that with his dick in Jamie’s mouth and he registered how little he wanted to stop.
“Fuck that feels good,” Callum said, the words running on as Jamie’s mouth moved and Callum’s hand stayed in his hair. “Your mouth is so hot and the air out here is freezing and I can see right up the street from where I’m standing, so don’t stop, take it deeper if you can, let me feel the whole thing go in.”
Jamie did. He fed more of the length in until his nose pressed toward the open jeans and the wet sound of it carried in the still air, a small filthy noise that belonged on this pavement as much as the snow did. Strings of spit connected his lower lip to the shaft when he pulled back to breathe. He licked along the underside, then took the head again and sucked with a tighter seal that made Callum’s hips give a twitch he did not authorise. Callum’s balls hung against the cold denim. Jamie’s other hand came up and rolled them, the contrast of his warm palm and the night air making Callum’s cock jump on his tongue, and Callum felt that jump travel all the way into his gut.
Another pair of headlights turned at the corner. Callum kept his hand in Jamie’s hair and did not step back. The car came on, slowed a fraction as it passed the parked line, then rolled through without stopping. Jamie never came off him. The risk of it sat in Callum’s chest like a second pulse. Callum’s cock was fully hard now, thick in Jamie’s mouth, the head wet with spit and the first smear of precum, and he thought, with a clarity that surprised him, that he wanted the next car to see it too.
Jamie pulled off long enough to look up. Snow on his lashes. Mouth shiny. The sight of him on his knees in the weather with Callum’s cock an inch from his lips landed as a heavy, specific want.
“Someone’s going to see you with your cock down my throat,” Jamie said, the line stretching as he wrapped his fist around Callum again and stroked while he talked, the words carrying the heat of the mouth that had just been on him. “You’re standing here in your cap and that jacket with your dick out in the snow and I’m on my knees eating it, and I can feel how hard you’ve got in my hand, so you tell me if you want me to keep going until you shoot or if you want to put it somewhere else first.”
“Keep going,” Callum said, and then the rest of it came because stopping at two words would have been a lie about what his body was doing. “I want your mouth on it. I want to cum like this, out here, with the snow on your jacket and my cock down your throat, and if somebody walks this way they can watch you swallow it.”
Jamie swallowed him again. Callum held the back of Jamie’s head and let his hips give small pushes into the heat, each one a little less careful than the last. The bomber hung open. The tank stuck to Callum’s chest under it. Snow collected on the black cap and on the shoulders of Jamie’s jacket and on the pale denim around Callum’s thighs. Every time Jamie took him deep the wet clutch of his throat pulled a sound out of Callum that the street was welcome to hear, and he let those sounds come.
Callum lasted as long as he could on his feet. The coil at the base of his cock had started to draw tight and he did not want to finish on his first hold of the night, not while Jamie was still on his knees and the pavement was still theirs. He eased Jamie off with a pull at his hair. Callum’s cock left Jamie’s mouth with a wet pop and stood out from the open jeans, spit-slick, twitching in the cold, the head flushed and shining. The sudden air on the wet shaft made the whole length jerk.
“Up,” Callum said. “Turn around. I want my hand on yours and I want to see what you look like with your trousers down on this street.”
Jamie stood. Snow clung to the knees of his trousers. Callum put him with his back to Callum’s chest and reached around, found the waistband of the black trousers, and shoved them down far enough that Jamie’s own cock came free into Callum’s hand. It was already hard, the shaft hot against Callum’s palm, the head wet. Callum wrapped him and stroked while he kissed the side of Jamie’s neck and then his mouth when Jamie turned his head to find him. Behind them the building windows sat dark. In front of them the empty street held its own weather. The weight of Jamie’s cock in Callum’s fist was a fact he kept returning to, the heat of it, the way it pulsed when he tightened his grip under the head.
Jamie’s ass pressed back against Callum. Callum’s cock slid along the cleft through the open layers, the wet head leaving a track on the fabric. Callum kept wanking him in long pulls, base to tip, thumb sweeping the slit on the way up, and Jamie reached back and found Callum’s shaft and held it against him so the two of them were grinding in the falling snow with their cocks out and their jackets still on. The contact of Jamie’s hand on Callum while Callum worked him made the whole arrangement feel mutual in a way that the kneeling had not, two bodies answering each other in the open.
“Fuck,” Jamie said, the word breaking into a longer run as Callum’s fist tightened and Jamie’s own fingers squeezed the base of him. “Your hand on my cock in the middle of the street and your dick rubbing up against me like that, I can feel how wet the head is, I can feel you wanting in. Don’t you dare stop. Anyone looks out a window they get this. They get you behind me with both of us leaking into the snow.”
Callum bit at the edge of Jamie’s jaw and kept the rhythm of his fist. Precum from both of them made the strokes slick. Jamie’s cock throbbed in Callum’s grip. Callum’s pushed against the heat of Jamie’s ass and the back of his balls. The snow kept coming. A flake landed on the head of Jamie’s cock and melted into the wet there, and Callum watched that small thing happen over Jamie’s shoulder while he stroked him through it.
Callum shifted his stance and spat into his palm and got his own cock lined lower, the head finding the rim of Jamie through the shoved-down trousers. He did not force it. He let the wet head rub there while he kept stroking Jamie, the pressure of that blunt shape against his entrance enough to make Jamie’s hips kick. Jamie pushed back onto it and Callum felt the give of the hole against the tip, a heat and a give that pulled a sound out of Callum’s throat.
“You want it in you out here,” Callum said into Jamie’s ear, the sentence staying with him as he rubbed the head there and kept his fist moving on Jamie’s shaft. “Say it so I can hear it. Say you want my cock in you on this pavement.”
“I want it,” Jamie said, voice gone rough, the sentence keeping on as he reached down and spread himself with two fingers so the head of Callum’s cock could sit more squarely against the hole. “Push it in. The street can have it. I want your cock in me while the snow’s still falling and I want you to fuck me where anybody walking home can see the way you’re opening me up.”
Callum pushed. The head sank in against the clench and the heat of Jamie closed around it, a burn and a stretch that made Callum’s breath catch and his hand stall on Jamie’s cock before it started moving again. Callum held there with just the tip inside and kept his fist working him. Jamie made a broken sound and dropped his head forward. Callum gave him more. Inch by inch the shaft followed until Callum was buried to the base, his hips flush to Jamie’s ass, the whole length of him held inside Jamie on a public pavement with snow in their hair. The fullness of that, the fact of being that deep in Jamie in this weather, sat in Callum’s body as a single charged note.
Callum started to fuck him. Short thrusts at first because the angle and the cold and the need to stay standing all asked for control. Then longer ones as Jamie’s hole opened around him. Each drive forward pushed Jamie’s cock through Callum’s fist. The wet slap of it was small and filthy in the open air. Jamie’s hand braced on his own thigh. Callum’s stayed wrapped around Jamie’s shaft, and the two motions ran together until Callum could feel Jamie’s pulse in the cock he was holding and his own pulse in the hole he was fucking.
“So tight,” Callum said, the words coming out in a continuous press against the side of Jamie’s neck as he kept sinking in. “Your hole is taking every inch and I’m all the way in you on this street, I can feel you gripping me every time I pull back, so don’t stop pushing back, let me feel you clench around it while I stroke you.”
Jamie clenched. The grip of it pulled a groan out of Callum that he did not try to swallow. Callum pounded into him harder, the bomber shifting on his shoulders, Jamie’s jacket bunched where Callum held him. Snow melted on the back of Callum’s hand as he wanked Jamie in time with the thrusts. Jamie’s cock jumped and leaked over Callum’s knuckles. Callum’s stayed locked inside the heat of Jamie, dragging out and sinking back in, the rim of Jamie’s hole stretched around the thick base, and Callum watched the place where he disappeared into Jamie whenever he could get his eyes down that far.
A figure moved at the far end of the block, too distant to read, then turned away down a side street. They did not stop. Callum kept fucking him. Jamie kept taking it. The risk sat in both of them now, sharp and shared, and it only made the next thrust land deeper, Callum’s hips snapping in, Jamie’s ass meeting him, the wet sound of it carrying farther than Callum meant it to.
Callum felt the load rising. The pull started low in his gut and climbed the shaft he had buried in Jamie. He tightened his fist on Jamie’s cock and fucked into him with shorter, harder drives, the head of him knocking against the place that made Jamie’s knees dip. Jamie reached back with one hand and gripped Callum’s hip, holding him in, the fingers digging through the jacket.
“Gonna cum,” Callum said, and the rest of it followed because the build had already taken the choice away. “I’m gonna cum in you. Right here. I can feel it coming up and I am not pulling out of this hole.”
“Do it,” Jamie said, the line running on through a gasp as his cock jumped in Callum’s fist. “Fill me. Shoot inside. I want your load in me on this street, I want to feel it go in, I’m close, fuck, keep hitting it, don’t you pull out, keep your hand on my cock while you empty into me.”
Callum buried himself and stayed there and let it go. The first pulse emptied into Jamie in a thick jet that Callum felt travel the length of his cock and spill into the clench of Jamie’s hole. Another followed, then another, heavy spurts pumping into him while Callum held Jamie’s hips and kept his fist working Jamie’s shaft. Jamie came in Callum’s hand on the third or fourth pulse of Callum’s, his cock kicking, thick ropes shooting out over Callum’s knuckles and down onto the snow between Jamie’s boots. The white of it landed and sat there against the white already on the ground. Callum milked him through it while he kept pulsing inside him, the last of Callum’s load leaving him in weaker bursts that still filled Jamie, each one a smaller kick that Callum felt against the grip of Jamie’s hole.
They stayed locked like that. Callum’s cock still in Jamie, twitching. Jamie’s cock still in Callum’s fist, slick with his own cum. Snow falling on both of them, catching in Jamie’s hair and on the black cap and on the wet mess on Callum’s hand. The street empty again. Callum kissed the side of Jamie’s neck and then his mouth when Jamie turned, and the look on Jamie’s face when he met Callum’s eyes was the open, wrecked, fuck-yeah stare of a man who had just taken a load on a public pavement in the snow and wanted the street to know it.
Thank you so much for reading. If you have any capacity to share, comment or review, please do so as I am so so so grateful to anyone who can help get my writing in front of more people.
Please also visit my website www.hardmanpod.com to find out more about all of my work and how to keep in touch. Find my latest stories here, or via my website, or follow me on Twitter at www.x.com/hardmanpod.
If you’d like to commission a story or have a suggestion, please reach out to me a [email protected] - I’ll consider ideas and if they excite me I’ll give them a go. Paid options are available, but if you can’t afford it don’t let that put you off – I’m always keen to hear what people are wanting to read about and would love to play a part in bringing your fantasies to life. I’ve got a lot of stuff in the pipeline beyond just stories, so please watch this space.
Finally, this is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. Some works may be inspired by other creators, but all work is entirely original and written by me, Harlan Maddox-Powell. All characters are adults and have fully consented to the depicted roleplay scenario. In real life, always practise safe sex and enthusiastic consent.
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