His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

“Are you really smelling my armpit?” Hart rumbled, his voice as raw and dirty as porn, “Most people opt for the smell of bacon or Folgers first thing in the morning.”

Free chuckled and buried his head deeper, out of mild embarrassment, but mostly greed. So he’s a damn comedian in the morning? Well, he knew how to cut the games. Free rotated his hips, making sure to brush his sunrise wood over Hart’s thigh muscle. He remembered Hart having some hesitation about offending Free with his erections, but he wanted to nip that in bud right now.

Hart fell silent, Free could only hear his shallow breaths. Damn, he wished he had removed his sweats before he got into the bed last night, but he’d wanted to be able to give Hart what he needed…and last night…he needed a friend, not an orgasm.

This morning, however, was another story. Hart moved toward him and Free bit his lip at the first feel of Hart’s fat bulge nudging his abs. His mouth watered. Hart’s strong arms came around his waist then he was being hefted on top of him. Holy shit. He felt high up. He smiled down at Hart, just able to make out the satisfied expression on his face in the scarce light of dawn. Hart’s eyes fell closed, his back arched slightly and his fist clenched around the material of Free’s pants.

“You asked me what I wanted last night,” Hart whispered as low as his voice allowed. His beard deliciously scratched against Free’s cheek, making his cock leak already.

“Yes. You want to tell me now?” Free kissed Hart’s throat, then nuzzled under the bushy length, nibbling on his chin.

Hart’s hips rose off the bed. “Fuuuuck. Don’t do that,” Hart groaned, squeezing the life out of him. Free relished it.

“I’m gonna do it all the fucking time because I know what it does to you.” Free ground his pelvis down. “It does the same to me.”

“Damnit, Len,” Hart hissed when Free pulled his beard and dove for his mouth.

They kissed passionately. Free kissed him until he felt no further indecision, until Hart understood that everything about him turned him on and he wanted him desperately. After ten extra seconds of needing to take a much-needed breath, Free pulled away from Hart’s lips, only to be yanked back to him. He vibrated to see Hart’s dominant side flare up. And he was about to bring out more of it. Because that particular part of Hart was expressly for him.

“Tell me now what you want.”

“I want you on top of me.” Hart’s breathing became more ragged. “I like this position.”

Free could just about guess why Hart desired such a simple act. Kitchen Witch must’ve hated it. Her entire stick-up-the-ass demeanor screamed missionary-style only. Which was a shame, because Hart had a body made for riding. Free laid his forehead on Hart’s cheek, sealing their bodies together from head to toe, then settling his weight on him. “How’s this?”

Hart rubbed Free’s back in long, smooth strokes, from his neck to the swell of his ass, then stopping. He wanted Hart’s hands to go farther. He fused their lips together and lazily tasted Hart’s mouth as he moaned his satisfaction. “You can touch me. It’s okay.” He didn’t want to move Hart faster than he was ready, but according to his calculations, this was twenty-five years overdue.

Hart buried his face in Free’s throat and slowly eased his hands down his spine toward his ass. He paused at the waistband of his sweats right before shaky fingers inched underneath.

“Yes. I need you to touch me, Ivan.” The more aroused Free became, the more honest he was. He felt he didn’t have to hold back his own wants, and that Hart would understand how starved for touch and affection he was as well.

“Okay,” Hart mumbled, going lower.

The hairs on Hart’s forearms tickled the skin on his ass. Free squirmed, spreading his legs wider, pushing his hips higher in invitation. Hart’s groan was followed by his first double-handed squeeze.

He reached beneath Free’s cheeks, and cupped him, pressing him tighter to him. Then it was Free’s turn to arch and moan. “Damn, Len, have I not been touching you like you need?”

“Mmmm.” Free writhed shamelessly. Hart was asking him something, but he wasn’t thinking about an answer. “S’good.”

“I want to give you want you need too, baby.” Hart kissed him behind his ear, still speaking to him with that morning rumble. Free’s cock pulsed and he flexed his hips for more pressure, “You’re so hard.”

“Yeah. I wanna come,” Free keened. On you. He was hard. Just as solid as he’d been last night, and he’d made his orgasm wait—wait until the right time. Now was it. He couldn’t wait anymore. “But first I…”

Hart eased one hand from inside his pants and let the other roam over Free’s chest. “You can tell me.”