By Aouda Fogg

Jim thrust harder, deeper, loving the way Blair's body felt under him, around him, loving the sensations, the feel, the thrust, the pull. He rotated his hips slowly, drawing things out, teasing, loving that, too.

But then Blair began to speak, catching him unaware, inflaming him with hot, dirty words that went straight to his cock. The words wrested away what control he'd been able to cling to. Groaning lingeringly, he came hard, plunging as deeply into Blair as he could. He was just beginning to coast down from the pleasure when the sensations ratcheted back up as Blair came too. Unable to withstand the combination, Jim's arms gave out, and he collapsed on top of Blair's still writhing body.

Dimly he heard a muffled "oof!" but his mind couldn't quite grasp what to do with the information, so he just savored the warm, sweaty skin beneath him.

Finally, his brain resolidified, and he connected the sound with his collapse. Immediately contrite, he shifted his weight off his lover.

"Sorry, babe," he kissed Blair's shoulder, and brushing the curly hair away from the shorter man's face, tried a rueful grin.

He got a raised eyebrow in return. Another kiss, though, helped Jim turned that expression turned into a smile.

Then Blair widened it to a grin. "I give you a ten on technique and skill, Big Guy, but you get a seven on the dismount!"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Okay, that's it, you're watching way too much of the Olympics."

The next moment, he found himself flat on his back, his Guide looming over him. Blair's hair spilled down, framing both their faces as the smaller man lowered his head, zeroing in for a kiss. "Ah, come on, Jim, you're going to love my interpretation of the pole vault!"


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