The Devil's Brew by Rhys Ford

their release.
    More importantly, it was about lying together in bed, nose to nose, and whispering about how much they loved one another and how fucking thankful they were to have each other.
    The whispering, however, could wait. Now Miki just wanted Kane to fuck him until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.
    And from the stab of Kane’s cock at his hole, Miki guessed his lover had the same kind of thing in mind.
    He rolled his shoulders, biting his lip when a drop of freezing lube rolled over his balls. The nip of cold distracted him, a moment where he didn’t think about Kane’s intrusion. Then suddenly everything else in the world faded when Kane’s hot length pushed into him.
    “Fuuuuuck….” Miki ground the word out, breathless through the burn.
    Kane seated himself quickly, gripping Miki’s hips. Unable to hold himself up, Miki fell forward, his shoulders slamming into the bed. The tumble cocked his ass up, parting his crack even farther, and Kane took advantage of the ease, pushing in even more.
    He tried to grab at the sheets, but they slid about the bed, nearly as slick as his own ass. Snagging a corner of the duvet, Miki worked his fingers into its softness just as Kane began to move back, sliding his cock out nearly past Miki’s rim.
    “Do you want this, love?” Kane rolled his hips, edging his cock around Miki’s hole. If anything, the motion strained Miki’s rim, his skin tight along Kane’s ridged head. The man’s hands roamed up from his hips and over Miki’s back, exploring every taut muscle. “Just tell me you want me, Mick, and I’ll go right back in.”
    “Not a radio show, Kane. Less talk. More fucking.” He growled when his lover laughed at him. “ Still not with the fucking.”
    “God, I love you, Mick.” The man leaned over, kissing between Miki’s shoulder blades.
    There was no more talking. Nothing that formed actual words, although Miki might have said fuck a few times. Kane began his descent into Miki’s body, and Miki lost everything he’d had on his mind.
    Other than to snap his hips back onto Kane’s cock as often and as hard as he could.
    There definitely wasn’t enough lube. Either that or his body said fuck it and sloughed it away, because Miki felt every centimeter of Kane’s stretch. The first draw back was nothing compared to the plunge. Then the action picked up, and Miki began to fly.
    He had to close his eyes, immersing himself in the experience. The tug of Kane’s fingers in his hair and the bruising grip of the man’s other hand on the small of his back as Kane held him in place. His mind rippled with the contrasting sensations of his lover’s body on and in him, from the crinkle of Kane’s hair against the curve of his ass to the scrape of his cop’s blunt nails over his spine. The scorching heat of his skin being raked echoed the sear of Kane’s cock driving into him, and Miki cried out, needing more.
    Shoving himself back on Kane’s thrusts only made Miki’s crazier. He couldn’t seem to get Kane in as deep as he wanted—as he needed. His throat closed up, aching with a desire he didn’t have a name for, until Kane tugged his head back and Miki was forced to arch his neck.
    He thirsted. He needed to have something of Kane on his tongue, and the mewling, anguished cry of need he let out must have made some kind of sense, because Kane released his hair. The stinging of his pulled scalp echoed over his head, but Miki didn’t have time to dwell on it, not with the thrust of Kane’s fingers into his mouth.
    That was what he needed. To be fucked through the mouth as much as Kane hammered at his ass. He pulled Kane in as far as he could, wishing he could fit the man’s hand down his throat, but he had to be content with mouthing his fingers and running his tongue over the rough ridges of his prints. He felt Kane’s entire life in his mouth, from the calluses on his thumb and forefinger from running tools over a piece of wood to the small