Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls
I stretched out in bed, wincing because I'd pulled the incisions a bit too hard. I stood up carefully and walked towards the bathroom to brush my teeth, glancing at the clock as I went past. 1:36. I needed to stop staying in bed so long.
But at least I'd slept the night before.
I grinned at the memory of opening my door last night to find Barry standing on my porch. The circumstances weren't exactly what I'd have liked--I'd been looking forward to making love with a Cy Young winning World Champion--but I was still happy to see him. As soon as I'd made eye contact, the pain in my stomach hadn't seemed as bad, and all of the worries of the past weeks had lessened. I'd missed him so much--far more than I'd led him to believe last night.
I opened my bedroom door and was immediately enveloped in the aroma of strong coffee and something sweet with a hint of spice. Sure enough, when I got to the kitchen, there was a pot of coffee and a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls on the table.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said, smiling, "Hungry?"
"You baked?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah, I found a tube of those ready to bake ones up in your cupboard, they only take about fifteen minutes," he answered, pulling one from the tray. "They're cool enough to eat now," he added, ripping off a section and offering it to me.
I pulled the morsel into my mouth, wrapping my lips around his fingertips as well, and letting my tongue dance over the pad of his thumb much longer than necessary. "Yummy."
He smiled, then turned around and started to pour me a cup of coffee. I sat down at the table and admired his back--a bronze tan shadowed broad shoulders that tapered down to a slim waist, and below that his skin was covered by a pair of faded black sweatpants. My sweatpants. I grinned at that realization, that is, until I glanced down. Barry is six inches taller than I am--so despite the fact that he had the waistband riding low on his hips, the sweatpants still ended somewhere between his calf and ankle. I grabbed another cinnamon roll, trying to stifle a laugh, but failing.
"What?" he asked as he put my coffee mug down, then followed my eyes down his legs, "Hey, be quiet. I needed something to wear; I couldn't just walk around naked all day."
"Why not?"
"Well...I'd feel funny..." he murmured, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"I don't know...I'm thinking we should both walk around naked all day?" I suggested, pulling my shirt over my head.
"Really?" he asked, pulling me to my feet.
"Definitely. First of all, you are very nice to look at. Second--it makes the whole day-long-kinky-sex thing much easier to accomplish."
I leaned in close and pressed my lips to his, slipping my tongue into his mouth where he tasted like the cinnamon rolls that he'd made. His hands grasped my waist, pulling me so that his semi-hard cock pressed low against my belly. His tongue explored my mouth while his hands rubbed over my back. When I buried my fingers in his hair and started to grind my hips against his, he groaned deep in his chest, and he bit down on my lower lip. Then he picked me up, setting me on the table, then rubbed a finger over my scars, looking up at me nervously.
"Was that okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Shh, I'm fine," I assured him, hooking a leg around his knee, pulling him into another kiss. I sucked and nibbled his bottom lip, then soothed it with the tip of my tongue while he grasped my thighs tightly. One of his hands slid up to my hips, then my waist, and then away from me, and then he swiped something warm across my collarbone. I pulled away from the kiss, glancing down at the blob of white icing that he'd smeared.
He grinned and leaned down, his tongue cleaning the sugary cream, leaving behind a wet fire that curled its way down, warming the pit of my stomach like a furnace and forcing my heated blood even lower.
I took some icing off of one of the rolls, then rubbed it on the skin just below his ear, then I licked it off of him, sucking on his throat, my tongue dancing over the racing pulse there. He slipped his index finger under the elastic of my boxers, then tugged them off, exposing my erection to his greedy eyes. He wrapped a hand around it, sliding his fingers up and down a few times. Then he grabbed one of the cinnamon rolls, sliding it, icing side up, along the underside of my cock, leaving a trail of icing, and then he rolled it up over the head, the icing mixing with the precum that had gathered there.
He kneeled down, never taking his eyes from mine, and then he started to lick at the base of my cock, working his way up. He lapped up all of the icing from the underside, and then rolled his tongue over the head, licking away the mixture of icing and precum. Then he slipped his lips around the end of my dick, and I thrust involuntarily, but he just gladly took me in, letting my entire length slip into his mouth, the smooth skin of his throat caressing the sensitive head. Meanwhile, his tongue slipped along the underside of my shaft, his teeth just grazing my skin. I moaned, letting my head fall backwards, and I gripped the edge of the table for support.
"Stop...Barry. I'm going...I'm going to c....come," I panted, but he kept on torturing my dick, sucking harder than before, one hand massaging my balls, the other one at the small of my back, holding me close to him. I thrust against him again, unable to hold back, and came with a growl. He swallowed quickly, but not all of it, as some of my cum dribbled down his chin. He stood up quickly, pulling off his sweats and tossing them across the room, then spit the cum and saliva mixture into his hand, rubbing it along his own erection, until his cock was shining from the liquid. Then he moved between my legs, pushing dishes out of the way so that he could lay me down on the table.
"If this is too much for you," he said, eyes full of concern, "with your stomach just healing, let me know. I don't want to hurt..."
I sat up and put a finger over his lips. "Would you just shut up and fuck me already?"
He pushed me back down and lifted my legs up to his shoulders, grinning widely. He slipped his index finger in and out of his mouth, then teased my entrance, running his fingertip all around the hole, but not entering.
"Dammit, Barry...don't fucking tease me," I begged through clenched teeth.
Then suddenly, he pushed that finger into me, curling it to press against my prostate, making my cock swell again. He slid a second finger in, then scissored the two digits until I was gasping and panting, my head whipping back and forth, my cock hard and resting against my belly. "Barry, please..." I whimpered, shuddering from the pleasure.
He slid a saliva slick hand over his cock, just in case, then grabbed me by the waist. "I love you," he whispered as his dick pressed against me, then he thrust into me, entering me fully in one move. I screamed his name, in pain for an instant, only to be replaced with a cry of the most intense pleasure a moment later.
He leaned over me and thrust again, wrapping one hand around my cock, pumping it in time with his pace, muttering breathy curses as I tightened my muscles around his pulsing shaft. He stared at me, almost in awe, as he moved faster, bringing each of us closer to the brink every time his head pressed against my prostate, then moved away, then returned, harder and faster with each passing breath.
"Andy," he gasped as his thrusting built to a frenzy, "I...love...you."
I stared into his eyes, unable to speak, but I mouthed the words back to him. Then he came, exploding with a guttural cry that echoed in my ears. The heat of his cum inside of me warmed me even more and made his final thrust even smoother, and as he reached the deepest part of me once more, I felt myself pitch over the edge again, cumming in his hand and on his chest, whispering his name in wonder, amazed by the power of the emotions swirling a red haze all through me.
He pulled my legs down, still inside of me, and slumped against me, his head on my chest. He caught his breath, then reached up and offered me a bite of a now icing-less cinnamon roll. I licked his fingertips, tasting sugar and myself, and wondered what he had in mind for lunch.
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