forthedog | And we shall call it...

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neil

And we shall call it...

The bike roars under him. It feels amazing. It's like it's always just seconds from slipping out of his control, and at the same time he feels completely in possession of it.

In other words it's a lot like everything else.

Neil's warm against his back and as they round a bend in the road the last edge of the sun is going down through the trees in front of them. It's not a huge way outside the city but it's far enough that for a few moments he can entertain the fantasy that there's no city at all, that with the stripped trees and the deserted road they're back in the Realm again and a great many things are simpler.

In many ways it's not a nice fantasy. But he does entertain it.

He slows as the trees close in; they're still a mile or so away but he wants to enjoy the road. He turns his head, catches a glimpse of Neil out of the corner of his eye. "You okay back there?"

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"Some fuckin' asshole," I laugh, hissing at the cold hitting my thighs, I'm lucky we're past the point of needing to impress each other, 'cause I'm pretty sure my nuts tried crawling back into my body just now.

"You better fuckin' make this worth my while, man."

"Like I ever don't." His own pants and underwear are gone as soon as he can manage and then he's wriggling into the sleeping bag, dragging Neil with him. This is crazy, completely, but all things considered, it's not even that out of the ordinary for them.

He tangles a hand in Neil's hair and drags his head back, sucking at his adam's apple. "Can give you a repeat performance when we get home if you're really that disappointed."

"Whatever, man. I can get that any time," I remind him, a low moan working its way out of my throat when we both settle inside the sleeping bag, skin on skin and legs impossibly tangled.

"God..." A tightness has made itself known behind my ribs, and it's suddenly a little tough to focus on the task at hand, when all I really wanna do is wrap my arms around him and hold on.

Two years ago, I should've lost all hope that we'd ever have a future, but somehow, I didn't. Six months ago, it seemed impossible that our future would look anything like this.

"Mike," I breathe, hand in his hair and pulling his mouth to mine.

Hearing his name said like that sends a shiver rolling down his spine, a soft moan against Neil's lips, and one hand sliding down between them, down over Neil's ribs and the plane of his stomach to graze the hair just above the root of his cock.

"This is ours," he murmurs, and grins, rolling slow and hard against the jut of Neil's hip. "Look up."

"I'm looking," I whisper, eyes blinking open and momentarily unseeing, the stars a speckled blur overhead.

"We don't even need a fancy house, you know," I say, words broken up by breathless little grunts in time with my hips pushing up against his. "We could pitch a fuckin' tent, and I'd be cool with it."

"God, stop talking." One hand curled around Neil's dick and stroking firmly, the fingers of his other pushing past Neil's lips, rough pads against his tongue. Now that they're in the sleeping bag, skin to overheated skin, cold isn't anything like a problem, and he rolls on top, pressing Neil down with his body. He's not aiming for his dick to line up so neatly with Neil's but it does, and his breath catches as he grinds them slowly together.

"Unless you're gonna start begging."

"Fuck you," I laugh breathlessly, but then his fingers are pressing past my lips and I can't really speak, so I guess he got his wish.

Rolling my eyes at him, I hook a knee around his hip as best I can in these tight quarters, spine arching to bring us that much closer, and my hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Think you got that backwards, sweetheart." He's moving them in rhythm now, still slow, getting harder, gripping Neil's thigh with one hand and pushing his legs farther apart. There was lube in the bag and now it's lying in the grass somewhere beside them, but just now he can't be bothered to fumble for it.

He lets his fingers slip away from Neil's mouth again, leaning in to suck at his bottom lip and edging it with teeth. But not hard. If nothing else, he doesn't have room to get as rough here as he might otherwise like to.

Not that that's a problem.

"Sweetheart?" I laugh breathlessly, opening my legs up wider without any complaint, and truth be told, I think there might be a rock digging into my back through the sleeping bag, but I don't really care.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, just do it already."

"Always so fucking impatient." He bites down hard at the edge of Neil's collarbone, giving his cock a correspondingly hard squeeze. It's not that he feels like he has to keep control, not that he even wants it as much as he used to... but it's still sweet. And the sounds Neil makes are still so perfect.

He reaches out of the bag, finds the tube in the grass by touch, gives Neil's hip a shove. "On your side, then."

There are any number of ways he could do this, and this isn't even necessarily the most practical, but he wants it deep. Maybe even needs it. A little.

Swallowing down a gasp, I grunt-- half annoyance and half really fucking turned on. He's right, I'm impatient. Always. I was always pretty fucking good at not making demands, and doing what I was told, and now that I've got a little more control, it's hard not to exert it.

Still, it's not like I argue when he shoves at me, letting him push me into whatever position he wants. It's a struggle to turn over, and the clumsiness of it sure as hell can't be sexy, but I'm not all that concerned.

"We don't gotta whole lotta room in here for fuckin' foreplay."

"Right, like you're not pretty much always like this." But Neil's right, and squeezing some lube onto his fingers is a little bit of a tricky affair - but lying along Neil's back, fingers pushing into the cleft of his ass and then one slick finger pressing into him, the close quarters don't really seem to matter anymore.

"Jesus," he breathes, hot against the nape of Neil's neck, kissing along his hairline. "You can't ask me to skip this."

"Fuck no," I murmur, letting out a long, breathless moan and relaxing around his finger. There's a rustle of wind, shaking the leaves and rippling over the nearby water, but I hardly notice it. Inside the sleeping back, it's warm, almost muggy already, and I've nearly forgotten how fucking freezing it was just a few minutes ago.

Rolling my hips lazily, I reach down between my legs and palm at my dick, grinding with the heel of my hand and sliding my thumb over the head.

And suddenly everything's hot and loose, a marked lack of tension in his muscles even though he's still aching with how much he wants this. He pushes his finger in past the second knuckle and pauses, breathing slow and deep and closing his teeth on the skin at the juncture of Neil's neck and shoulder. Barely even a bite.

"You're unbelievable." He grins, adding a second finger to the first, a little rougher now. "I literally... can't believe you."

"It's been... shit, Mike... how many years? Oughta be used to me by now," I groan, rocking my hips back in time with his hand, and he's right, it's pretty fucking unbelievable how good this still feels, after so much time.

"Jesus. You're the one that's fuckin'... unbelievable. Bringin' me out here to fuck me in a sleepin' back," I say, wheezing with helpless laughter.

"Don't hear you complaining." They're one moving thing now, Neil pushing back against him and him pushing forward with his cock hard against the back of Neil's thigh.

He doesn't want to wait, sees no reason to, slides his fingers carefully out and manages to squeeze enough lube onto them to slick his cock. "I'd fuck you anywhere," he breathes as he presses slowly in, one hand tight on Neil's hip. "And you... wouldn't stop me"

"I wouldn't stop you?" I say with a hoarse cough of laughter, teeth clinching through the harsher slide of his cock, but it's still so, so easy, it hardly takes any time to adjust.

"I'm pretty sure I'd be askin' for it."

It's hard, now, to know exactly where his laughter and his panting begin and end, the breaths edging into moans as he moves faster. This is ridiculous, every bit of it, but it's also so perfect and it's so them.

It fits.

He slides his hand under Neil's knee, pushing his leg up and thrusting in deeper. "Bullshit," he gasps. "You never ask."

"What?" I say, choking on another laugh, a sharp grunt catching in the back of my throat and my free hand curling tight in the sleeping bag wrapped around us.

"What are you... You're full of shit. God."

He laughs again, deep in his chest and almost making him shiver, arm sliding over Neil's hip as he reaches between his thighs. It's awkward, all of it is, and somehow that just fans the pleasure burning under his skin.

"So are you." His hips snap forward, burying his cock as deep as it'll go. He bares his teeth against Neil's shoulder. "You... deserve me, you little bitch."

"Bitch?" I wheeze, crying out when his hips snap against mine and when his cock slides in deeper, it's just fucking right.

"You oughta... Jesus fuckin' Christ... You oughta be nicer to me."

"I'm nice. I'm... real fucking nice." He's panting with every thrust, pants deepening into groans, sweat beading on his skin even with the cold outside. He's still jerking at Neil's cock, rough, hard, but increasingly clumsy as he struggles to hang on. This is an edge that he always struggles to walk, and he always falls. When he doesn't hurtle himself over.

"Neil- Shit, I'm gonna-"

"You're a fuckin' hair-trigger, too," I tease, like I'm not right on the edge with him, breath coming out in desperate little pants, half muffled by the sleeping bag I've buried my face in.

I always intend on going slow, but it never seems to turn out that way.

He's half laughing again, about to protest, something like well fucking look at you, but the tension is squeezing the words out of him and when he comes it's wordless, a harsh, strangled groan, echoing up into the trees above them.

And it feels like a step, in the strangest of ways.

"Shit," I laugh, trying to sound disappointed, but it doesn't really work when I'm coming too, splattering the sleeping bag and making a fucking wet spot I'll probably have to sleep in, but I'm not too concerned.

"Mike," I pant, collapsing under him, drained and grinning stupidly, with the warm weight of him against my back.

And we shall call it...

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