Read PsyCop 2.2: Many Happy Returns Online

Authors: Jordan Castillo Price

Tags: #mm

PsyCop 2.2: Many Happy Returns (2 page)

Kenneth gripped Crash’s cock just a little harder, and Crash seemed to melt into him. Their mouths crushed together, and Crash’s pierced tongue parted Kenneth’s lips. Crash sighed a spearmint breath into Kenneth’s mouth as the muscles in his thighs tensed.

Crash pulled his mouth free and buried his face in the crook of Kenneth’s neck. His breath was hot on Kenneth’s collarbone as he squeezed their bodies together, murmuring, “Yeah, oh yeah, mmmm, yeah,” into Kenneth’s shoulder.

Crash gasped and his hips jerked. Kenneth felt the wetness of come, hot and sticky on his belly. Kenneth slowed his strokes on his own dick, concentrating on making them perfect, and basking in the feel of this man draped against him, breathing hard and making satisfied noises against his shoulder.

One of Crash’s hands fell from around Kenneth’s shoulders, slipping between their bodies to cradle Kenneth’s balls. They pulled tight to his body, and the steady climb to the brink turned into a sudden rush.

Kenneth felt the first crest of pleasure surge down to his groin, and Crash’s mouth covered his again.

Kenneth bucked against Crash, their hands, wet with lotion and sticky with Crash’s semen, tangling together to milk his pulsing dick. Kenneth came hard, his fluids mingling with Crash’s between their bellies. He let himself moan into Crash’s mouth, and Crash welcomed it, clasping Kenneth to him tight with his free hand, grinding their bodies together in a moaning, writhing mess of lotion and come.

Crash held Kenneth against him until Kenneth’s hips stopped thrusting, and then he pulled away and sat back on his heels. His lips were swollen and his T-shirt was spotted with dark blots of lotion and telltale ropy strings of ejaculate.

He grinned and stood, offering Kenneth a hand up.

“I had a feeling you’d be fun,” Crash said.

Kenneth had no idea how to reply. He was naked, except for the slacks around his ankles and the sticky mingling of come growing tight as it dried on his skin.

Crash hitched his fly shut and turned to leave. “Wait a minute,” Kenneth said. “Your shirt.”

Crash looked down at the black ball of fabric on the floor. “Oh, that. I just wanted to make you take it off.”

“But...your bag.”

“I pulled that one off the rack on my way in. My mom would never buy me a black shirt. She thinks I need more color in my wardrobe.” Crash winked at Kenneth, and treated him to one more grin. He whistled to himself as he made his way down the dingy little hall, and out onto the dimly lit sales floor of the lowest subbasement of SaverPlus.

Kenneth waited until the whistling faded away, then looked around at the sad piles of unwanted clothing on the floor as he zipped up his fly and buckled his belt. He’d need to work at least another hour to get the return desk to the point where he could close up. And he’d have to “accidentally” throw away anything that might be splattered with lotion, or worse. He tried to conjure up images of a gorgeous, flat-screen monitor and a printer/scanner all-in-one to take his mind off the time, but found that hardware wasn’t doing a very good job of capturing his imagination at that moment.

Pale green eyes, spiked blond hair and a tongue stud were another story entirely. Kenneth picked up his black shirt from the floor, held it to his cheek, and sighed.


Jordan Castillo Price’s gay erotica can be found at

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