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Motorcycle
by Shine
It was the middle of the day, was Joey's first thought.
The middle of the day, right outside, and Chris was insane, absolutely out of his fucking mind, was his second. And his third.
His fourth was mostly taken up by swearing under his breath, half-reverently.
It wasn't until his fifth thought--*beautiful*--that he actually began to move.
The motorcycle was sleek and modern and chrome, and looked like it could do eighty miles per hour sitting in a parking lot. The windshield swept back gracefully in a sheeted wave, and Chris looked completely comfortable on the bike, perfectly relaxed and settled into place.
And naked.
The sun played across his skin, turning it burnished cream-gold. His hair ruffled in the breeze, unstyled and soft as sugar, flickers of dark red highlights catching in the light. Joey's fingers itched to run through it, thread through the silky, thick mass of it. He wondered if he'd be able to get a good hold on it, or if the strands would slip through his fingers like water.
His nipples were tight, crinkled rosy-tan circles against the slowly browning skin of his chest. His hands were wrapped loosely around the handlebars, knuckles prominent, and the muscles in his arms stood out in gorgeous relief as sunlight fell across them like a lover. His bare toes gripped the ground for balance.
He was naked.
And sitting--straddling--a motorcycle.
Joey took a deep breath, and felt something in his gut quiver almost painfully. His cock stirred, felt tight and hot and sensitive, and he shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure as it began to nudge insistantly at the back of his brain.
Chris had his eyes closed, and his face was tilted back, eyelashes dark against his cheeks, the arch and curve of brow and nose and lash making him look sharp, unearthly. Joey didn't think he'd ever seen anything so hot in his life as Chris sitting there, unself-consciously naked and savoring the warmth of the sun on his face, the touch of the wind on his skin. He looked edgy, ageless, male.
He looked beautiful.
And Chris wasn't sitting still, though he wasn't really moving. Just a slow wave of tension that rippled through his thighs and calves and arms that drew him forward across the seat, then brought him back. Over and over, a smooth slow movement that Joey slowly realized was Chris rubbing himself off against the seat. Rubbing just a little bit, but not too much, not too hard, not *yet*... And the seat, that black leather seat, intricately stiched and roughened, warm and damp and yielding under Chris's body.
It was that thought that finally got him moving again.
Down the steps of Chris's back porch, out to where Chris had parked his motorcycle on the lawn of the back yard. Chris opened his eyes as he approached, squinting a little in the sun. The light turned his brown eyes faintly golden, like an eagle.
He didn't move to stop Joey from coming closer, didn't try to cover himself up, didn't stop his unhurried movement. Just smiled slightly, looking like secrets and promises and welcomes, a private smile. Joey felt as though he'd been hit in the head, and his hands were shaking by the time he finally reached the motorcyle, and gingerly swung a leg over it to sit facing Chris.
Chris immediately scooted back to make room for him, but neither one of them were small men. It was a tight fit, and Joey didn't think he'd ever want it any other way, especially when Chris came back towards him, and Joey hooked his hands under Chris's thighs and pulled them up over his legs, bringing Chris almost into his lap.
Then Chris was shivering, stocky body graceful as he arched into Joey's hold. Joey tugged him closer, one hand spread out across his back and supporting him as he took one earlobe into his mouth, licked teasingly, then suckled. Chris groaned, a solid heavy noise that Joey felt through his fingertips, and pushed his hips forward. Joey bit down on the earlobe, and slid his free hand down Chris's back, down to his spread ass.
The sound Chris made, when Joey's searching fingers found his hole and skated across it, was indescribable.
Joey shuddered hard and slid the hand supporting Chris's torso down to his waist, the small of his back, slowly lowering Chris until he was laying back on the seat of the motorcycle, his head on the rear fender, his legs still draped across Joey's lap. It put his dick directly under Joey's now-free hand, while his other hand patiently teased and toyed with the sensitive rim of Chris's hole. Chris moaned and wriggled, sliding more firmly into Joey's grasp, urging him on, and Joey smiled darkly and dragged his hand deliberately down Chris's chest.
Chris arched up to feel it, shoulders abdoment hips lifting as Joey touched him, and when he finally reached Chris's cock, hot and hard and damp and rude against his palm, Chris gasped. Joey grinned
He didn't tease. Not for long, anyway. Chris was so beautiful, sleek and gorgeous and hot in his lap, and Joey drank it in, slipping one finger a fraction of an inch inside--god, tight and dry and *friction* and fuck, Chris was gasping continuously now, like he was too turned on to even make a sound, and his cock was eager and alive in Joey's hand. Joey pulled slowly, circled a careful finger around the slick tip, ran his thumb bluntly up the underside until he came to the sensitive notch just below the flare of the head.
When he nudged that place, Chris choked, bucked, and came, slick white covering Joey's fingers. Joey smiled, pulled his hand out from underneath Chris's ass, brought his hand up and licked at his fingers while Chris panted in his lap, relaxed and sated and bright-eyed. Salt and bitter and slippery against his teeth, and he closed his eyes.
"You didn't come," Chris finally said, the first thing either of them had said, and Joey grinned, opening his eyes and looking down at him.
"You can make it up to me," he promised. Chris smiled. Joey stroked down Chris's chest again--no movement now, no anxious arch of body and bone, just warm resiliant muscle under his hand, the flutter of Chris's heart, the swell and fall of his chest as he breathed. Joey's fingers were damp, and left streaks across Chris's body. The sun fell across his skin, and Joey thought he was beautiful.
Fin
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