Quite a Spectacle by Meg Harding Page A

out with a triumphant smirk. He nudged Michael, saying, “Up and turn around.”
    Michael scrambled to obey.
    He could hear the snick of the lube as it was opened and the creak of the swing as Max shifted closer. “Pull your trousers down.”
    Grimacing—he wasn’t looking forward to the cold—Michael did as he was told. The curse he released when his cock was introduced to the cool night air was not one of pleasure. He stopped with his trousers tucked right under his cheeks and waited. He twitched when a cool hand came to rest on his hip. “Bend over.”
    Extremely conscious of the fact that they were outside in the open, Michael bent himself in half ’til his fingers touched his toes. Behind him Max moaned, his hand sliding down Michael’s hip and moving to knead his cheeks. “God, you’re perfect,” he said.
    Michael wanted to hurry him on, but he refrained from doing so. If he tried to order Max around when he was like this, Michael would just end up with his ass in the air for twice as long.
    “Reach back and spread ’em for me.”
    Blushing, Michael did as told.
    It wasn’t but a second later when hot breath blew over his hole and the warm touch of a tongue flicked over it. His knees shook with the urge to buckle. He bit his lip as a low whine escaped.
    Max went to town. His tongue was absolute magic twirling over Michael’s hole, teasingly probing at the wrinkled flesh as it fluttered. Michael was a mess under the ministrations, little cries escaping him as Max introduced his finger into the equation. It slid right in with just the slightest burn, causing Michael to cry out and bring his hand forward to catch himself lest he tumble over.
    That earned him two hard swats to his ass, and Max pulled away, stopping until Michael’s hand was back where it should be, keeping himself spread wide. “Good boy,” Max chuckled, before resuming his business.
    Despite the cold, Michael’s cock was hard as iron and pointing right up at him. There were lines of pearly liquid trailing down the front of his coat from where he was leaking all over himself.
    A second finger joined the first, and Max wasted no time in scissoring them apart. His tongue slipped in and Michael might have sobbed just a little at the sensation, which he was then promptly robbed of as Max pulled away.
    “Pants completely off and on my lap,” he said, the swing creaking as he shifted back onto it fully.
    Michael toed his shoes off, and his jeans quickly followed. When he turned it was to the sight of Max waiting for him, stretched out and regal looking with his legs spread and his cock in his hand. He was lazily stroking it, tightening his grip on the upstroke just like he loved.
    He patted his lap with his free hand. “Come on,” he urged.
    Michael climbed up and Max let go of his cock to lean over and snatch up the blanket. He spread it over them, shielding them just a little from the cold. He smirked up at Michael’s surprised expression. “Did you really think I was going to let you freeze?”
    Michael shook his head and bent to kiss him as he lined himself up with the head of Max’s cock. He held himself still, waiting.
    Max gripped Michael’s hips, his lips pressed tight to Michael’s, but didn’t move. They were very still.
    And then Max shoved up.
    Michael shouted into his mouth, dropping his hips down to meet Max’s thrust. His hands held tight to Max’s shoulders as his breath shuddered from him.
    “Okay?” Max asked him, kissing him gently between words.
    Michael didn’t have any words to give, but he nodded his head, shuddering into Max’s kiss.
    “Then move,” Max told him.
    Move Michael did. His hips rolled, the swing swaying beneath them with the movement. His breathing was harsh in the still night air, and Max’s didn’t sound any better as his quiet grunts started to join Michael’s stuttered whimpers. He used Max’s shoulders to brace himself, only pausing once to lift Max’s shirt so his cock could slide