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“I know you don’t give that lightly.” Tank shrugged out of the remnants of his shirt, looking so fine.

Oh hell, that felt like heaven. He reached up, let his hands wander. He loved Tank’s skin, nut brown from the sun and rough with hair on the chest and belly. He pinched one little nipple, tugging good and hard.

Arching up, Tank grimaced, but in the best sexual way.

“I want to ride you. Come on.” He eased Tank down and started opening Tank’s jeans.

“Soon,” Tank agreed, rolling to his back and helping, lifting his ass off the bed. Dalton stripped the jeans down, admiring all those hard, fine muscles.

“You too.” Tank plucked at the clothes Dalton still wore.

“Uh-huh.” He worked his jeans off, shucked his briefs.

“Oh, honey.” Tank stared, licking his lips.

He flushed, his cock arched up toward his belly. Tank made him feel wanted, and incredibly strong. Dalton reached down to stroke his cock, just kinda idly, wanting more of that attention.

Tank’s gaze went white-hot, staring him down and making him want to twist. His breath caught in his chest, his dick going even harder.

“Come here, honey. You’re too damn far away.”

Dalton crawled up along Tank’s body, one cheek rubbing along Tank’s delicious fat cock.

“Jesus.” Tank’s whole body tensed. “I want your ass, honey. I want you on me, around me.”

“Fuck yes.” He grabbed the lube and the condoms, handed them over.

Tank opened the lube right up, got his fingers good and wet. “Bend and spread them, honey.”

He had a second of indecision—where to go, how to settle—but Tank’s hard hands moved him over those muscled thighs, and he spread like butter for a hot knife.

Then Tank was pushing between his cheeks with two wet fingers, sliding them against his hole. He breathed deep, trying to relax instead of tensing.

Tank rubbed his lower back, keeping him in place, keeping his ass right where Tank wanted it.

All he could do was breathe, in and out, letting Tank get him ready to ride. Getting him open and wet.

“Jesus, baby, you make my mouth dry.” Tank sounded a little dazed.

“I need you. Tank. More.” He wasn’t able to push words out.

“I can do more.” Tank slipped another finger in, spreading him a little wider, then a little wider. Dalton gritted his teeth and pushed back, showing Tank he was ready.

“I want you to ride me, Dalton. I need it.” Tank’s fingers slipped free, and Dalton was suddenly empty and aching, his head spinning as Tank sat him up.

He pretty much missed Tank slipping on a condom, but it was there, and he was wet and open and all he had to do was climb aboard. He groaned as he slipped down, his lips parted as the tip popped in, burning him deep.

Tank stared at him, eyes wide and dark, cheeks a rosy pink. They stayed like that for long seconds before Tank’s hands landed on his hips. Then he sank down, his lips parted on a moan.

“There. Oh, Jesus, Dalton.” Tank sounded almost like he was praying.

“Uh-huh.” He groaned, squeezing hard, taking a second to make room inside him.

Tank’s eyes rolled right back in his head. Dalton had done that. Him.

He began to move, using the steady motion that was almost more natural than walking. Lord knew he’d been riding longer. He rolled his hips, and Tank gave him a rhythm to go with, moving with him, arching up.

They found their pace, rocking nice and steady, both of them moaning as they came together.