The Sunset Job (The Rainbow's Seven 1)

“Yeah, right there, Roman. Oh fuck, keep going. Yeah, add another finger, ohhhhh fuck.” Wyatt dropped his head, arching his back as Roman stretched him open with two fingers. He heard him spit before feeling the warm and wet spread of his saliva, collecting it with his two fingers before pushing back in, pulling a gasp from deep in Wyatt’s chest.

“Your ass is so fucking sexy. And tight. Fuck, Wyatt, I need you.”

“You can have me. Whatever you want.”

He started to slide his fingers in faster, harder, using his other hand to fondle Wyatt’s tightening balls. More precome leaked down onto the sheets. He’d never been this wet before, had never seen such a dark stain underneath him, hadn’t felt this kind of electricity in years. Not since… well, not since he and Roman had last been together.

Roman slipped his fingers out and gave Wyatt a chance to turn over onto his back. But Wyatt maneuvered himself so that he was lying with his head hanging off the bed, Roman’s stiff cock lined up directly with his throat. Wyatt didn’t even need to ask; he just opened his mouth, and Roman leaned forward, sliding his cock into Wyatt’s waiting lips.

Instantly, Roman’s taste exploded over Wyatt’s senses.

“Oh fuck, baby.” Roman softly rubbed both sides of Wyatt’s face as he watched him swallow, Wyatt’s lithe body stretched out on the bed, his own dick twitching in the air.

Roman reached forward, moving past Wyatt’s needy cock and finding his hole again. He found no resistance as he pushed back in, Wyatt’s body greedily accepting him. He palmed at Wyatt’s balls while his fingers went back to massaging that spongy spot that worked the same for every man—the equivalent of pushing a big red nuclear button.

Wyatt continued to suck him off, his toes curling into the bed as he ground his ass down on Roman’s hand. This was what he wanted, all he ever wanted. He likely wouldn’t admit that when his brain wasn’t so addled with cock and balls, but in this moment, he could see it clear as a summer’s day in LA: he wanted Roman, and he had never stopped wanting him. No matter what the man did to ruin his life, Wyatt had missed him, missed this.

It was an undeniable feeling of life, warm and golden and glittery and rare.

And he didn’t want to let it go. Not again.

“Fuck me,” Wyatt said, Roman’s thick cock resting gently against his cheek. He buried his nose between the crook of the man’s balls and thigh, breathing in his sweet, earthy scent. “Please, Roman. Fuck me.”

Roman pulled his fingers out, leaving Wyatt even more ravaged for his cock. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait much longer. Roman went over to his suitcase and took out a small bottle of lube, Wyatt moving so that he was lying down properly on the bed, his head against the grand headboard. The red velvet curtains that could be draped around the canopy bed were instead held up with thick golden ropes, matching the gold of the four posts.

Wyatt felt like royalty, watching his king walk back in the dim lamplight, his six-pack rippling with every step, the old-school tattoo of a traditionally drawn snake and blade sitting in the center of his chest, the perfect amount of flowers surrounding it.

Wyatt could have come right then and there but somehow managed to hold on.

“I’ve been tested,” Roman said, “and I’m on PrEP.”

“I know my status, too: negative. I think we’re good without condoms.” Wyatt practically drooled as Roman climbed onto the bed, hard cock waving in the air. “Go slow,” he warned as Roman lined himself up, grabbing both of Wyatt’s legs and lifting them up for easier access.

“Of course. You tell me if I need to stop.” He kissed the inside of Wyatt’s leg, lips soft against his skin. Wyatt dropped his head back and relaxed, trusting in Roman, opening himself up for him.

Roman did go slow, pushing forward inch by orgasmic inch. Wyatt’s body stretched to accommodate him, burning but only in the best way, and only momentarily. Soon, the burn gave way to the pleasure, flames licking up Wyatt’s side as Roman sank into him completely, their eyes locked and their faces twisting with ecstasy.

“That okay?” Roman asked, kissing Wyatt’s other calf, cock throbbing inside of him.

“Yes, fuck, you’re so big. Hold on.” Wyatt looked down, his own length twitching in the air, Roman’s abs shifting with every breath as they remained locked together. The flames grew hotter, the room catching with it, the temperature skyrocketing.

“Go, harder.”

Roman nodded, shifting his hips backward before plunging forward again. And again.

And again and again.

“Oh fuck, yes, Roman, fuck, keep going. Harder, harder. Yes, ohhhh—” Wyatt’s words were throttled by a savage kiss, matching the intensity of Roman’s thrusts. He reached up and latched onto Roman’s shoulders, nails digging into skin, pain mixing with pleasure mixing with bliss mixing with primal lust. Nothing mattered, nothing but the slapping of skin against skin, the union of two men trying to reach their ultimate peaks.