Bad Cupid (Gay Erotica)

At my insistent, Gabe let me settle the bill then dragged me out of the bar. He lived only a short taxi ride away, but I couldn’t keep my hands off of him once I began touching him. That raw, hidden power I felt pouring off of him pulled me in, and by the time we stumbled up the stairs to his third floor apartment I was practically plastered over him, hands touching everywhere I could and lips kissing his jaw and neck like he was oxygen.

He held my head by the back of my neck and kissed me hard, biting my lips. My hands roamed over his back, digging and scrabbling under his winter jacket and t-shirt at the skin as I ground my groin against his.

Gabe fished out his keys with a spare hand and opened the door. I pressed him against the back of the door as soon as we were inside. My mouth was back on his neck instantly, nibbling my way down his jaw to his Adam’s apple then to the hollow of his collarbone. I was a few inches shorter than him, and the crook of his neck was at just the right height for me to kiss and gnaw on.

Suddenly, my world whirled as Gabe pushed me against the opposite wall, both of us tripping over shoes as we tried to get rid of our own. His hands gripped my wrists, pushing them to the wall next to my head before his head dipped, pressing against my mouth forcefully.

I opened up willingly—I wasn’t about to fight him. If he wanted to take charge, he only had to tell me.

He hovered over me, kissing me with overwhelming passion and I could only try to keep up. I rolled my hips, hoping for more contact but then he backed away.

“Bedroom’s the second door on your left. I want you stripped and on the bed by the time I get there,” he commanded with a growling whisper into my ear, sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. “And you’re not to touch yourself until I get there.”

I stumbled towards the room, tearing my long-sleeve shirt away from my body as I moved. I unzipped my jeans and pulled them off along with my briefs. I was achingly hard, my cock leaking. I wanted to stroke myself but then I remembered the commanding tone of Gabe’s voice.

I climbed onto the bed and laid down on my back just as Gabe strode into the room. He was bare from the waist up. His hard pecs and abs, solid and defined, flexed as he moved, and he looked magnificent as he stood by the bed, towering over me.

I wanted to reach up to him, to draw him into a kiss but he moved first, pinning me down on the bed, my hands by my head.

“Gabe?” I arched up, desperate for his touch, but he pressed me back down with his body. The rough fabric of his jeans teased my hardness, and I moaned softly.

“You’re a naughty, naughty boy, Eric,” Gabe fixed me with his gaze, tightening his hold on my wrists. “Playing with fire like this.”