EXCERPT (NC17):

In the cellar, Ryan Mackay lay face down over a tall wooden crate. He’d been flung down there by Max Avery with impatience and a distinct lack of care for his comfort, but he’d made no cry of protest. In fact, the grimace on his face looked more to do with the sharp ache of ecstasy than complaint. His fingers gripped the rough slatted lid of the crate as if desperate to provide some anchor, and the bottles inside rattled against their moorings as his body jerked back and forth. His pants and briefs were in a crumpled pile around his left ankle, and his shirt was pushed up under his armpits. His knees bent forward and knocked against the sides with every forward move; his pale skin was exposed from his shoulder blades down to his calves, the sweat on his muscles shining in the dim light.

Max knelt on the floor behind him, his face on a level with Ryan’s ass. He was still dressed, though he’d undone the buttons of his dress jacket and loosened the studs at his collar. His hands gripped Ryan’s muscular buttocks; strands of his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He pushed Ryan’s hips forward against the crates, then tugged them back, again and again in a relentless rhythm. Each time the other man’s ass nudged up against his face, his tongue darted forward and licked richly at the puckered hole between the cheeks. He sucked at it; he swiped saliva against it and inside it; he stabbed at the entrance, the strong muscle of his tongue forcing a hot, wet invasion into Ryan’s hole.

Ryan’s mouth opened in the shape of a groan, though little sound emerged. He struggled to hold himself both still and quiet. “Killing me here…” he gasped, hoarsely.

“Be quiet,” muttered Max. His words were muffled and his tongue still worked the overly sensitive nerves around Ryan’s balls. “You can be too damned noisy.”

Ryan released his right hand from its grip and dropped it down to where his swollen cock was pressed painfully between his groin and the crate. A nerve twitched under the taut flesh of his buttocks; a leaking thread of pre-come clung stickily to his thigh, shining in contrast to the dark wood. He wrapped his palm protectively around his dick and began to pump himself, following the rhythm of Max’s hungry rimming. “And you -” he grunted, “can be too damned smug.”

Max sat back on his heels suddenly, his movements stilled.

Ryan could hear his own heart thudding in his chest. He mentally kicked himself. “Didn’t mean it,” he growled. “I know this is difficult for you.”

Max ran a fingernail up the inside of Ryan’s splayed thigh, and Ryan moaned softly. “Yeah, so that isn’t so difficult. But everyone assumes the pair of you are…you know.”

Max’s voice was very quiet. “I never meant… I can’t find a way to tell her.”

Ryan swallowed around a painful lump in his throat. “About this?”

“About you.” Max’s voice was a whisper. “I won’t hurt her, you know that. I’ve known her all her life.”

Ryan sighed and nodded. The bars on the crate were making awkward ridges on his torso and his ass ached for Max’s tongue to start again. “Something’ll work itself out. Some day.” He wriggled a little, his buttocks clenched. “Until then, maybe…?”

Max laughed gently. He leant forward and used his thumbs to peel the skin apart around Ryan’s entrance. He slid his index finger in, slowly and firmly. Ryan winced at the breach but his ass muscles flexed with need. Max watched them tighten back around his finger as he twisted it in further – the darker hairs in the crease of Ryan’s buttocks were soft and damp under his hand.

Ryan gasped and thrust himself backwards, impaling Max’s finger up to the next knuckle.

“Time?” he whispered back into the semi darkness.

Max knew the other man wasn’t asking for a report from Max’s expensive, Swiss-jeweled watch. “Plenty,” he hissed back.

Upstairs, the sound of footsteps had temporarily ceased but there was no other noise - no traffic outside the house or visitors at the door.

Ryan smiled in triumph at Max’s answer, though the man crouched by his ass couldn’t see it. He bent his head back down against the crate, braced his feet even further apart and tightened his hand around his aching cock.

“More, then,” he grunted. “And now!”