Rain (a smutty short)

And now, a break from my recent bouts of trying to improve technically.

The challenge: Make it sexy in 750 words or less.

So I lapsed into my usual style. To hell with language conventions.

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The sheets were warm and humid with sweat. The cabin wouldn’t stop swaying. The dim shadows within shifted constantly. Gunter could hear the rain hammering against the thick poured glass of the windows. It fell in a steady pounding to the deck above. Patterpatter sprinkle splatter.

“Does the rain always make you this excited?” Victor murmured, his mouth a warm smear against Gunter’s ribs.

“Yes,” Gunter murmured, sinking his thin, weathered fingers through Victor’s dark hair. The hair of a young man. A pretty man. His pretty young man.

Victor laughed. He brushed his calloused fingers along the stump at the midpoint of the Gunter’s thigh, pressed them inward over scarred skin and up beneath the twist of sheets. Victor slid his fingertips through the coarse curls between the man’s legs and pressed his palm in a firm cupping. His nails grazed the damp skin behind Gunter’s balls.

“Yes,” Gunter repeated. His tone was hazy with anticipation.

Victor’s tongue lathed across the skin bunched about the head of Gunter’s cock. Victor’s mouth wrapped tight about Gunter’s shaft, nose delving swift to the musk at its base. Gunter raised his hips from the bed, tipping into the moisture and heat. Into the soft skin at the roof of Victor’s mouth. Into the smooth fleshy tissue at his throat. Gunter’s lips splayed in a smile, baring his uneven teeth to the shadows and ghosts.

Gunter curled his fingers into the thick strands of Victor’s hair. He did not force or shove, but simply gripped, tensed his arm as Victor’s head bobbed down. Victor sucked, cheeks hollowing, and took the tapered head of Gunter’s cock into his throat. Gunter groaned, his cock twitching for the ripple of thick, smooth tissue. For the suction and spasm. Lovely, so lovely.

There were nails at the back of his knee. Gunter’s mouth twitched. His cock jerked appreciatively against the textured tissue at the roof of Victor’s mouth. Gunter rumbled encouragingly and was rewarded with a low hum in response.

Rhythm and sway. The ship continued to rock. The rain to patter. Gunter squeezed his eyes shut. His spine arched, his heel dug, and he rolled unevenly into that welcoming heat. The swallow and pulse. The moist glide. Up and down, in and out. Constant and unyielding.

Gunter’s chest heaved. His pulse raced. Rollicked. He felt it through his neck, his temples. In behind his ears. Pinpricks of heat gathered in his palms, the soles of his feet. He felt it in both, though the left was long since gone. More heat, pressure at the base of his belly. Building, shifting. He had to move. His back popped, his shoulder. Warm skin went sweaty. The ship was creaking.

Victor’s mouth was warm. So warm. So wet. Alive. So alive. Gunter curled his fingers so tight into the fistful of hair that his nails left crescents in the rough skin of his palm. The rain was hammering outside. He couldn’t breathe. The air was too warm. Too close. He couldn’t move as fast as he wanted, as fast as he once had.

Victor could. The thick, muscled neck shifted with the broad, toned shoulders. Dark skin. Smooth skin. It wasn’t scarred yet, not overly. Gunter stroked it, petted the dark hair that tickled his belly, his thighs. Fast bobs, tight sucks. Slurping and air through the cheeks. Wet. Heavy breath from Victor’s nose against dark skin.

Gunter strained, tensing. Too much. It made his ass cramp. Clench. Didn’t stop the inevitable. His cock swelled, balls drawing tight above the rock and press of Victor’s fingers. Gunter came hard. The heat spread, tearing through his limbs, bursting out through his chest. It swamped his thoughts, blinding him as his cock twitched and shuddered. Spats of cum within the pulse of Victor’s mouth. The blessed boy sucked it back as fast as Gunter could yield it.

Not that there was much to it anymore, no. The heat eased, and he sagged back into the sheets. Sweaty and warm. His fingers went slack, and the cramp that had spread down into his thigh began to ease.

“I think I like the rain,” Victor purred. His tongue passed fleshy and pink over his slick, swollen lips.

“Good.”

Gunter’s mouth gave a weak spasm of life. He laughed low in his chest, then reached to urge Victor up. The rain was nice, but the feel of a firm young body wrapped about his own was worth sleeping to.