Chapter 207
“Can I help it,” Scooter reasoned, “that your ass is literally the most perfect thing I have ever seen in my life? I could write epic poetry to how amazing your ass is.” Scooter had both hands inside Andy’s sleep pants, ran his fingers along the curve, then teased up his crack until Andy was squirming.
“That’s—ah, nnng!—better,” Andy panted. Finally, pants open, Andy peeled them back. “Mr. Stahl-Howard,” he gasped, “have you been walking around commando all morning?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just wriggled closer and started in licking and sucking. Oh, God, that was nice.
“…need to get a load of laundry—oh, God! Andy! Shit, that’s…” Scooter went straight from being a smug jerk to writhing with need. It was gratifying, listening to the way Scooter’s voice went up a register, the way his hand bunched up in the blankets as if to keep from flying off the bed.