Plastic (a smutty short)

The tablecloth came in three layers. The bottommost layer was a strange, fibrous fabric to ensure that it clung to the surface of the table. The middle layer was a sheet of vinyl printed with washed out daisies and sun-faded stems. The top layer was a sheaf of thick plastic, presumably to make it easy to clean. None of these was pleasant to the touch, but Jess was considering turning the damned thing over anyway. The plastic on the top had long since cracked, split, and warped. It was digging into his ass in the most uncomfortable of ways, leaving little welts and shallow cuts, rolling to press lumps into the tense stretch of his musculature.

He did not, however, think that it would be a good idea to interrupt Nathaniel. No, not in the least. The man was clearly enjoying himself. He could tell from the way Nathaniel kept pushing his weight up into the balls of his feet, and shifting it from one side to the other. Jess liked the way it made his calves bulge, and his thighs tense, both springing in powerful curves from the indentations of his knees. He smiled for the sight, but the expression was short lived. It was replaced instead by a short, sharp yip of pained surprise. Fucking riding crop. It stung like a bitch.

"What do you say?"

Jess rolled his own leg outward, his muscles feeling like noodles. He shivered, his sweaty skin sticking to the plastic. He loved the growl in the other man's voice. His soft hazel eyes raised to meet the unyielding deep dark brown of Nathaniel's. He smiled again, caught in the fire of the man's stare, and moved his mouth in a series of carefully shaped movements. Nathaniel didn't like it when he stuttered. Or mumbled.

"Thank you."

Another smack, this time across his nipple. Jess let his head fall back against the table with a grunt, the pink swell of flesh growing stiff in time with the twitching of his cock. He squirmed, stuck to the plastic, shifted the pressure on the welts. His wrists and ankles pulled against the tightly woven ropes that bound him, but there was no real relief to be had for all of his attempted movement. He had very little play available to his limbs, and his joints were aching. His voice exploded outward in another surprised cry.

"Thank you," he panted quickly, stopping the cut of braided nylon through the air.

Nathaniel loved the way Jess said thank you. Thank you as if he meant it. Cried it out on gasping breaths. Cried it with the twitches of his muscles beneath the creamy white and inflamed red of his skin. He said thank you, and he meant it. If nothing else, Nathaniel knew from the way the man's cock twitched and throbbed, straining against the strap of black leather buckled at its base, wrapped about his bulging balls.

"You're welcome," he whispered in a cool exhale against the musky indentation of one of Jess' hips.

Nathaniel caught his teeth on the shallow angle of Jess' hip. Such a pretty boy. He bit down hard, digging against the skin, rolling the connective tissue beneath as if he might pierce the flesh to the bone beyond. Jess' cries filled the air, sweet as music, and Nathaniel's cock strained harder into the smooth white suede of his trousers. He drew his tongue along the already forming bruise, feeling out the indentations left by his teeth with its tip.

"So good, you are," he purred.

So good, so good. And Jess was all his. His. The tips of his fingers worked at the laces on his trousers, the skin a coppery tan against the white of the leather. The loosening of the material was relief enough to make him groan, and Nathaniel pulled his cock free with a satisfied slump of his shoulders. He pushed his pants down past the muscled curve of his ass and rubbed his drooling cockhead against the inside of Jess' thigh.

"Oh yesssss," Jess moaned as he felt the sticky slide and cling of cut flesh dragging against his own sweat.

Jess picked his head up from the table and stared hard at the man standing near the edge of it. His knees rolled outward again, thighs straining, and he picked his ass up, shifted his hips, and dropped them in exhaustion. It made his knees hurt, doing that. It made his ankles hurt from twisting against the ropes. The appreciative look that drew Nathaniel's dark brows together under a fringe of inky bangs made the hurt well worth it. He was his. His. And he liked that look.

There was a narrow shelf near the table. It was a shelf with tulips in a vase, dusty bronze miniatures, and a picture of Jess' niece fingerpainting in Kindergarten. The little girl in the bright pink dress was smiling out at the shimmering purple and gray of a condom wrapper, her face exposed as Nathaniel drew away the conspicuously phallic plastic bottle that had temporarily cluttered the usual order of things.

Lube spilled cool along Nathaniel's fingertips, and he did not warm it in the least before pressing them against the exposed, straining brown stain of his lover's ass. Jess shuddered hard, his hips tilting, and angled the eager pulse and throb of bulging musculature into the invading fingers. One, and then two. Thrust and thrust again, scissoring about. He moaned, his head turning against the table, the plastic digging at his shoulder. And then there was void, emptiness, and Jess was left a simpering, slippery mess on the tabletop.

"Shhhh," Nathaniel crooned. It was a comforting sound more than a shushing one. "Shhhh," he cooed again, distracted with the tight roll of slick latex down the eager swell of his shaft. The foil bounced off of the plastic, and landed on the floor to shine up at the bottommost layer of the tablecloth.

"But I want you," Jess drawled out, protesting, begging, demanding and asking all at once.

It made Nathaniel laugh. A low chuckle in the barrel of his dark chest. Jess loved Nathaniel's laugh. The laughter trailed off, replaced by a strained silence on both their parts.

Dark knees dug against the broken plastic of the tablecloth, slid outward to brace against the wide splay of Jess' legs. Nathaniel pressed forward, slick and smooth and hot, all of the tight pressure in the world unable to keep him out with such a generous oiling up. Deep, and hard, and thick, and Jess stretched just so. Clung about him in a tight, warm pulse that seemed to draw him in, beckon him on. He saddled himself to the hilt, let out a low groan through his lips, and dropped his sweat-slicked brow to Jess' shoulder. He lingered there, breathing, taking in the measure of his pulse and the violent twitching of his cock within its constricting nest.

"Ooooh. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you," Jess chanted in an arduous prattle.

He was so big, and so deep, and Jess didn't think he could stretch any wider, or hit any sweeter. He squirmed his aching spine against the table again, and was rewarded with a sharp forward rock meant to stay his movements. It worked for a moment, but then he squirmed, feeling out the length buried within him, the tight press of bulging flesh about the sensitive splay of his hole, feeling the way that Nathaniel's balls rested heavily against the slick crevice of his ass. He stared at the muss of the man's hair along his ear, and turned to graze his teeth along it even as Nathaniel planted his thick-fingered hands to either side of Jess' narrow shoulders and pressed himself upward.

"You're welcome," Nathaniel grunted, his chest tense with coiled restraint.

Then the restraint was gone. The tablecloth came in three layers. The bottommost layer ceased to function to its intended purpose given the forceful assault of Nathaniel's thrusts. It slid and bunched beneath the vinyl, pressing it up in awkward peaks through the cracks in the plastic, so that it rubbed sweaty skin and added a new kind of abraision to its inventory. Jess noticed this distantly, but did not particularly care. How could he, when he was being rocked again, and again, and again with the force of the short, sharp thrusts that bore him against it?

Rope hissed, slipping, peeling away to smack against the floor in a dark dormant curl. Jess' leg was hauled abruptly upward, unresisting for its exhaustion. It flopped in a pale tuck over Nathaniel's dark shoulder, heel bouncing, and then angled knee toward chest as he rocked. Another hiss of rope. Another lift of leg. Jess was jostled forward, bruised and aching, his cock throbbing so painfully he could have cried. Each time Nathaniel bottomed out he angled just so before pulling back, just the right way to cause pink lips to part with gasped cries of pleasure.

The table rocked and creaked. Its legs bumped and scooted, the dark wood complaining for the abuse. It was over a century old, and had been through worse, but it groaned in squeaky underscore to the low grunts, the soft keens, and the lewd sounds of wet squelching and smacking skin. Deep and hard and on and on and there was no amount of panting in the world that could make either of them catch their breaths.

Nathaniel smacked one hand over Jess' shoulder, catching it on the edge of the table to provide some support as he tugged another length of rope free. This knot came loose at the table, and the dark tendril of restraint smacked against Nathaniel's arm as Jess threw his hand over the other man's shoulders. Pale fingertips caught at the contours of musculature, gripping there was he was rocked steadily. Thrusting again and again. Down and back, down and back, and oh so deep. Oh so tight. Oh so hard. Oh so warm. Another hiss of loosed rope. The tablecloth was starting to bunch in the most impractical of ways, clinging to the curve of Jess' ass each time it was forced up off of the table. Nathaniel growled, digging at it with his knees.

"I love you, Nathaniel," Jess gasped out through his tingling lips.

"I know," came the rumbled reply.

The last restraint was lifted. Nathaniel's rhythm broke somewhat to manage it, but he wormed his free hand between them to snap free the thin strap of leather. He drug his fingers up to catch at the delicate shoulder beneath his own immediately afterward, eagerly rutting forward in sharper, harder thrusts. His hips jerked, convulsed, thighs and ass tensing as he pumped into the sudden spasm of Jess' ass, the tight drawing cling of it about his eager shaft.

Jess shuddered hard, his skin afire, prickling anew about all of the welts and bruises and tiny little cuts. The rush of sensation was so abrupt, so sudden that tears sprang to his eyes as his swollen cock swelled further, surged, and he came hard beneath his lover. The in and out stroke of the man's cock only seemed to drive his climax harder, sending the spurts of seed high along his belly to slide down the curve that sank from his ribs, shooting again and again until the last pathetic little wells of it simply slid down his sagging cock to the coarse, pale hairs beneath. His vision blurred in the midst of it, blacked, and blurred to life again. He could feel Nathaniel swell within him, and the man's groan seemed to fill his ears, his head, his chest, the whole of his world. The groan, and the swell, ebb, swell, and the sticky hot mess of his own cum. It smelled of sex. Jess stared, lulling, blinking at the light that filtered in through the cheap plastic blinds.

Nathaniel collapsed forward atop the smaller man with a heavy sigh of air. It was a habit he'd taken the time to cultivate, judging the angling of his limbs so as not to jostle him, and distributing his weight so that it became slowly more and more difficult to breath. Just the way Jess liked. He kissed affectionately at the other's shoulder, and then his jaw, and then his lips. A smile showed his teeth in stark white contrast to the dark of his skin, but it faded as he went to brace himself up a bit. The broken plastic of the tablecloth dug rudely at his palm.

"Oh fuck this," he muttered.

Nathaniel's mouth cut into a cunning grin, and he pulled his flagging cock from the other's ass before the condom could slip. He tied it off with one hand and the aid of his teeth, tossed it to the side, and then wrapped his arm rudely about Jess. One little lurch was all it took to send them off the edge, Nathaniel's body smacking to the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor, Jess clinging in wide-eyed and picture-perfect terror above him. Jess blinked, laughed softly, and slumped atop the warm, muscled bed that was Nathaniel's body. One dark hand parted from its pale victim, caught the edge of the tablecloth, and pulled it off to send it sailing across the kitchen floor. It landed in a heap and confusion, uncertain of which layer was meant to be in the middle.