Flash Fiction – Bitten

A quick flash piece for you all, a bit of a rough cut. Hope you enjoy!


Brad had missed Ian with a fervor most people reserved for religion. He’d missed his hands, his voice, his laugh, his touch. But most of all, Brad had missed that mouth, that impossibly clever mouth that Ian had, the one that could leave a man weak in the knees or send him coming, right over the edge of the precipice.

Shakespeare famously wrote that lips were for prayer. Ian’s certainly inspired the frequent use of the words “Oh, God” and “Jesus.” And now, finally, Ian was back from that God forsaken work trip that had taken him to Korea for a month, and Brad was fully ready to take advantage of that mouth.

They’d started innocently enough, dinner in the kitchen followed by a movie on the couch. But Brad couldn’t resist. Not ten minutes into the stupid slasher flick that Ian liked so much, Brad was thinking about that mouth again. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were waiting for, what the point of all this was. Finally, he decided he couldn’t take it any longer and climbed into Ian’s lap. Ian, for his part, pretended to be surprised, pretended not to know what the game was about. But all it took was a little nudging, a gentle palm dragged across his chest, teasing at his nipples, and they were kissing like it was the oxygen they needed to survive.

Ian pulled back after a minute, panting, and rubbed his hand over Brad’s fattening cock, several layers of fabric preventing Brad from feeling anything other than desperate, rather than relief. “What do you want, baby? Gotta tell me.”

Brad nodded, eager to please. “Want your mouth. On me. Everywhere.”

That seemed to be all Ian needed to hear before he was turning the tables, flipping them and pinning Brad to the couch. He gripped Brad’s wrists in his hands and pressed them to the couch above Brad’s head.


Brad nodded again, feeling his cock grow, aching against the denim jeans, leaking and getting his boxers damp. He vaguely hoped that Ian would let him take them off soon, though sometimed he’d make Brad wait, come in his jeans even, just because he could. Ian descended then, teeth flashing. They sank into the meat of Brad’s shoulder, and he felt the lance of heat shoot through him, hot and aching, from the bite mark to his groin. Ian didn’t relent, sucked a bruise into that spot before moving to another, and soon he had a trail of marks leading from shoulder to throat. He didn’t care.

“Come on, Ian, please. Want you.” He writhed, desperate to touch, to move his hands along his lover’s body, but he didn’t dare break the rules.

Ian hummed. “Really? Coulda fooled me.”

And there it was. Ian licked the hollow of Brad’s throat as Brad begged. “God, yes, just want–please–come on, just…” He squirmed, thrust up his pelvis. Ian worked his way down Brad’s body, chest, nipples, stomach, finally mouthing wetly at the denim along the hard ridge of Brad’s cock until he worked the zipper down and shoved the cotton and fabric down, past Brad’s knees. Brad could have wept with the relief as his cock sprang free.

Quickly, Ian’s mouth closed over Brad’s length, tounging at the slit. Ian worked hard and fast, and Brad felt him roll the balls in his free hand, tugging just a little. Quickly, obscenely, Ian’s cheeks hollowed out as he sucked, torquing his head as he came up. It was all too much after such a long hiatus, and soon Brad was coming, hot, thick strands of it shooting down Ian’s throat. Ian lapped it up, not wasting any, before easing back up for a kiss.

God, did Brad love that mouth.

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