His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

Hart slowed his shaking hands, they were in no rush. He sat still, panting, with his head in Free’s grasp while he spoiled him with his touch. While he showed him the comfort of a man.

“Your hands feel good on me,” Free said, making his way back to his mouth. That typically suave, melodic voice was husky and sexy as he moved his hips, the more powerful his massage got.

Hart wanted to say he felt the same, but his jaw was clenched tight. He didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of such a virile man. But, God help him, he was already on the edge. Then Free rubbed his hand over his freshly shaven head again, then down his neck, into his tank top. Never once did he cringe or pull his hand back at the hair he found there. No—Free was damn near petting him, his caresses so heartfelt.

Mmmmm. Shit, baby. Hart needed more pressure on his cock. Anything to justify being so damn hard. Free had to feel his arousal too, briefs could only conceal so much. He wasn’t embarrassed, because Free was just as solid as him.

“Kiss me some more,” Free demanded.

Oh my god. Hart tilted his head, slightly parting his lips so he could get enough oxygen. Free’s tongue was slippery and warm. Hart grunted loudly, his hips jerking forward.

Free smiled, then went back to kissing.

It’d been a long time since he’d done this, so he let Free take the lead. Hart chased Free’s tongue with his own and sucked on his plump bottom lip. That, he could do. And Free’s moans spurred him on to do more. Hart flexed his hips, pressing his bare heels into the floor for leverage, “I want…unnghh. God, Len. I…”

“Tell me. It’s okay. It’s just me and you here, Ivan.” Free rotated his hips with a bit more persistence, pressing down on him as if he was silently begging for it.

He didn’t give a damn who was there. He’d waited years for this moment. He just wanted to keep being touched and embraced. Every now and then, Free would wrap both arms around his neck and squeeze him as if he was giving him a great big ‘thank you’ then would go back to massaging… and kissing. They stayed this way, exploring more with their touches.

Before he could think better of it, Hart growled urgently. “I want you, Len.”

Free paused his subtle gyration.

Hart didn’t mean to say it like that. His lust was in overdrive and his granite-hard dick was robbing him of his rational thoughts. So he went primal. Want. Man. You. Now. That was the most his brain could give him.

“You can have me.” Free kissed him with soul. “You can have whatever you want. I just want to see you. I want to see more.”

Free went for the hem of Hart’s tank top and boldly lifted it up and over his head. A bolt of insecurity hit him like lightning when Free dropped his eyes to his pecs. Thick, dark hair covered his upper body, then tapered down over his stomach and into his pants. Plenty of it. Hart almost closed his eyes, not wanting to see the same look of disgust that Teresa used to give him when he got naked. But he was glad he didn’t. Otherwise, he would’ve missed the hungry, almost predatory gleam in Free’s dark eyes, irises that shimmered like hot coal. Trembling hands dove into his furry abs as if his hair was fine silk. Then Free moved again.

Jesus Christ. “This feel good to you?” Do I feel good to you? Hart asked, when Free pressed their chest and groins together, wrenching long, tortured groans from both of them.

“Men don’t fake it very well, Ivan,” Free rasped, his cock obscenely tenting his pants. No, there was no faking that. “Your body is better than I imagined.”

How?

As if he’d heard his internal thoughts, Free continued, “Hard and firm. Then soft in just the right places. With your arms around me I feel like I’m untouchable. I feel like I can do anything I want because you’re right here.” Free’s dark eyes dropped to his mouth, “And your beard isn’t as rough as I thought, but still enough to leave a nice burn on my face. I wanna know where else is covered with hair.”

Unnngh. Hart’s cock throbbed angrily beneath Free’s ass. Okay, he was convinced. Free did have an unusual obsession with his hair, and like he’d said men didn’t have to fake it. Hart glanced down at Free’s straining erection that’d now made a sizable damp spot on his light gray sweats. Fuck, he’s really not faking. Maybe his best friend was right. This could work out. He could have something special, too.

Free

Shit, what was he doing? He was on top of Hart’s wide lap and he no longer had control over his actions. He was going on blazing unadulterated lust. Hart’s body was fierce, big, and gorgeous. Free hadn’t realized the number Hart’s ex-wife had done on his self-esteem. A man as in-charge as Hart shouldn’t’ve had an insecure bone in his body. But he did. He had plenty.