Yussa brightens the warm glow of the lanterns just enough. It is getting darker by the minute, and the lovely half-light Caleb had been appreciating wouldn't have lasted long. This is perfect. Taking his own place between Yussa's legs, gracefully extended and spread, he smiles at his answer, meeting his eye. "Good. You look beautiful."
The compliment is an easy one to give to such a stunning man, he knows, but he is desperately convinced he means it with a deeper, more profound sincerity than other patrons who share Yussa's bed. Do any of them appreciate him as he does? Truly? Yussa admitted himself a moment ago that he is different in a good way from his usual clients. He'll carry that spark of encouragement with him until morning.
Caleb strokes himself with fresh oil as his other hand trails up the back of Yussa's thigh, tracing the tattoo there all the way up to the curve of his ass. His broad hand grips the soft flesh there and his thumb slides down to rub his hole, slick and yielding. Moving another half-inch forward, his knees meet the firm pillow lifting Yussa's hips, and with guidance the head of his cock parts the wet, swollen mess of his folds to nudge into the fluttering opening of his cunt. He must still be smarting and sore between his legs, Caleb would guess, from the rough and repeated smack of his hand only minutes ago.
But he is empty, too. And Caleb can't wait another moment to fill him.
His hips roll forward and his cock sinks in, self-indulgently slow so he can watch and feel the tight heat of his walls spreading, hear how slick the oil and Yussa's arousal have made their joining. Just that one steady thrust has him bottoming out easily, Caleb's hips against Yussa's ass and thigh against thigh. His eyes flutter closed for a long moment as he breathes harshly, scraped raw by how obscenely, intensely good his paid-for lover's throbbing cunt feels around his aching cock.
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The compliment is an easy one to give to such a stunning man, he knows, but he is desperately convinced he means it with a deeper, more profound sincerity than other patrons who share Yussa's bed. Do any of them appreciate him as he does? Truly? Yussa admitted himself a moment ago that he is different in a good way from his usual clients. He'll carry that spark of encouragement with him until morning.
Caleb strokes himself with fresh oil as his other hand trails up the back of Yussa's thigh, tracing the tattoo there all the way up to the curve of his ass. His broad hand grips the soft flesh there and his thumb slides down to rub his hole, slick and yielding. Moving another half-inch forward, his knees meet the firm pillow lifting Yussa's hips, and with guidance the head of his cock parts the wet, swollen mess of his folds to nudge into the fluttering opening of his cunt. He must still be smarting and sore between his legs, Caleb would guess, from the rough and repeated smack of his hand only minutes ago.
But he is empty, too. And Caleb can't wait another moment to fill him.
His hips roll forward and his cock sinks in, self-indulgently slow so he can watch and feel the tight heat of his walls spreading, hear how slick the oil and Yussa's arousal have made their joining. Just that one steady thrust has him bottoming out easily, Caleb's hips against Yussa's ass and thigh against thigh. His eyes flutter closed for a long moment as he breathes harshly, scraped raw by how obscenely, intensely good his paid-for lover's throbbing cunt feels around his aching cock.