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The morning is young and bright.
Warm and unruly, the Spring breeze finds its way into the bedroom and knocks over the pink hyacinth perched in its tiny plastic pot on the sill of the open window. When it leaves, it carries off with it the wet, whimpered sounds of two orgasms.
Fingers coiled and dug firm into the long, muscled thighs he's holding splayed, Danny kneels on the bed and pants down at the man sprawled and smiling beneath him. He's just come but still wants more. He's yet to have enough.
Under Danny's insatiable stare, Alex is a freshly fucked feast.
Alex. Sun-soaked, sweat-slicked, arms flung overhead. Sharp cheekbones blood flushed, silk smooth. Wide blue eyes folding into slow blinks and creasing with the sleepy smirk of satiety. Mouth kissed fuller and redder still, carved straight out of some Victorian's wet dream. Two cockfuls of cum cast in cooling pearly rivulets over the ripple of hard stomach muscle, spent as high as the spattering of soft chest hair, coursing down lazily in every direction with each swell of even, sweet breath. Gorgeous thick prick, still half engorged while the blood takes its time easing from it.
Alex, beyond beautiful.
Spunk, pheromones, sweat, cologne. The scent of sex and Springtime floods Danny's nostrils and pollinates his brain.
How the fuck, Danny wonders, can he seem so hard and soft all at once? So sweet yet stern? So boyish and innocent that Danny sometimes fears to break him yet so wanton and obscenely masculine that Danny's balls ache with the base need to fuck him again and again until his cock is raw?
Now, right now, long refractory minutes be damned, Danny wants to suckle the toes of the long elegant feet, point and flick his tongue between them. He wants to bury himself in the neat little patch of rough hair above the softening cock, breathe it in, tug it up into firm fistfuls. He wants to lap loudly and slurp greedily at the cum they've spilled, kiss the last of its slippery taste into the lush curves of Alex's mouth. He wants to order him to flip over, arch high and let Danny eat him out, shove deep into the tight little muscles of his hole until Alex is a hard, moaning, ready mess of want.
The morning lingers. Outside, above them, around them, April pours itself over London, sweeps it in crisp sunshine, dusts it with daffodil pollen and reigns and roars with the promise of shameless, incorrigible fun.