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A long, deep drag of black hit the air, swirling and pooling in a small cloud before making its escape through an open window. Night’s warmth soaked in along with a soft, gentle breeze. It washed over everyone and everything it could reach; greedy moonlight swallowed the tiny motel room whole.
The cigarette between Nikto’s fingers was hot, bitter, and exactly what the fuck he needed right now.
Hesitantly offering it to Krueger, only inches away, forearm wrapped on his knee as he sat motionless on the bed. “Here.”
Deep thought plagued Krueger. It struck them both hard, actually, so Krueger gladly accepted something that could flood some relief to his mind. The window didn’t bring in cold air, but it didn’t exactly bring in the warmest draft either. Especially against hot, bare skin. Nikto watched how those lips wrapped around the simple stick, taking a long inhale, and just simply blowing it all out. Eyes staring straight. The night quiet and awkward as possible. The room felt just a little bit chilly now that Nikto focused on it. Focusing on Krueger’s bare body, pale skin kissed a little pink in places, and those goosebumps along his arm. It was late August—the temperate didn’t bother Nikto as much, but he noticed how much Krueger was brushing over his exposed, rough arm. They were both stripped bare, and the breeze was really starting to get to him.
But the window was too far and would take some getting off the bed to deal with it. Nikto let the man hog the cig to warm himself up. The floor was littered with their civilian clothes, from the door, all the way to the bed in a short, scattered trail. Some even at the foot of the small table, now knocked on its side. His steel-plated mask ended up beside Krueger’s black boot. Green mesh tangled somewhere in his hoodie. Everything had gotten so chaotic after the bar—it was all just one big, fuzzy blur for then both. How’d they got here in one piece was an even bigger mystery, considering the fact that all the clothes and knocked over furniture looked like a murder scene.
The moment was really a deep, surreal awkward silence with only a lingering question to eat.
‘What the fuck do we do now..?’
-
Krueger took one last, dreadful puff with a relaxed, relived sigh. His feet bunched on the bed’s edged with legs bent, speaking into the side of his elbow teetering on his knee.
“...Still want to fuck...?”
It was an unbelievable surprise both of them weren’t expecting. Everything was so hot, so frantic, so desperate and needy for the other—desperate for just this raw fuck n’ go. But hooking up with your colleague—a friend—was always difficult to swallow the next day. And the day before that. There was always going to be something that bites back when the liquor wears off and reality sets in.
Gulping down the burden of someone else’s with every kiss, every touch, deeper and deeper, until you were ultimately fucked beyond return. Another’s secrets meant to keep secret accidentally spill all over you, scars of theirs melt on your skin.
Words should’ve been shared. Requests, restrains, limits, boundaries, something. They were already too tangled up in each other, Nikto’s tongue had been way too deep down the man’s throat for all that.
The two men bore different scars from different battles all along their body. Different fights, different struggles, different chapters in their lives that the other might never even know about. But they both had one scar in common. Two deep, crescent-moon shaped gashes bubbled up and healed over along the underside of their pecs. Maybe to some this sight was confusing—but to the other, the meaning was clear as day.
Nikto had his arms folded against the bust of his chest. He was leisurely leaned back against the rickety headboard, glaring over in some slightly frightening way. He dragged one leg up to the bed and spread the other, casually exposing himself wide like it was nobody’s business.
And Krueger was now trying, struggling not to glance his gaze down. Down between Nikto’s legs at his fucking cunt.
He grumbled it out, “...We’re still drunk. You...?”
-
Malt liquor melted on Nikto’s tongue with Krueger’s hot breath, each kiss turning sloppier and soppier by the second. The Austrian kissed Nikto back against the structure of the bed, hitting the frame and rocking it along the creaky floorboards. For their size different and stature—Krueger could really put up a fight. Everything was warm, wet, and sweaty. The air was so thick so fast, that little window couldn’t possibly drain all the heavy scent of drunken lust before it completely suffocated the two. They kissed hard, breathy, needy, and fast; Nikto was a mean lip-biter. Tugging on Krueger’s bottom lip whenever he needed to break for oxygen—very selfish if you ask Nikto. You can’t leave someone’s lips neglected like that and expect him not to complain. Sloppy mouth-to-mouth warfare became their specialty. Until kisses were nothing but hot air huffed down another’s throat.
With a hint of sweet, sweet alcohol.
Nikto didn’t really expect Kreuger to be so pushy. So overbearing and dominant. It was really...cute. He had Nikto slumped against the headboard, kissing and lapping the blown outside of his cheek. The feel of that damaged, ruined skin Nikto kept hidden was now a edged into his memory. It needed to be memorized. Touch made the bigger jump, hand to skin contact jolting through his nerves. It made Krueger more hesitant everywhere he touched—slower, gentler, wanting to take his time with Nikto and break down those walls.
“Ok?”
The bigger simply grunted to the breath along his neck, melting with a deep kiss to his carotid artery.
Krueger chased the sensation of touch, trying to get to any uncomfortable zones. Testing the limits, learning the boundaries. Nikto seemed to have none. He was ok with light touches along his hips as they made out, so crazed and drunk off another. He spread those thick thighs around him and strummed the insides. Still no complaints. Fuck, Nikto kept his patch big and bushy, lightly trimmed, neat, but free and wild. It was a thick, sexy jungle down there. All the way up to the happy trail along his midriff.
Their clits were that same shade of adorable fluffy pink. Nikto’s was bigger, meaner, meatier pussy with cubby lips. And good lord, Nikto was soaked. Glistening slick pooled from his hole and dripped down to his crack, leaving that shiny, wet trail all over his pretty cunt. It was sticky, hot, and throbbing with need.
Here's where things were a struggle. Fuck, both men left that bar fired up and ready to get some dick tonight. But apparently, neither of them had any fucking dick to give. Krueger’s never had sex with another trans dude before—and judging by how Nikto was so patient and lost, they both lacked just as much experience.
So, they just continued to go with whatever feels right.
The pair continued that heated make out session, rolling around and letting the sweet sound of aching springs drown out their breathy noises. Nikto had hardy put up a fight this entire match—Krueger was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with him. Their heated mess led the pair down, straight into the mattress; wet and sloppy huffs as Nikto’s spine arched against the less than soft mattress, digging nails into the back of those arms. Krueger was all snug between the bigger man’s legs, collapsing right on top of him. Skin to skin was heavenly with the heat of another against yours. They were melting together as if they were meant to be one. Chest to chest, skin to skin—it was all flushed hot insanity.
Krueger began to grind their pelvises together—not much clit-on-clit action from this angle, more of just dry, needy humping to settle all that fervor. Krueger swallowed all Nikto’s moans, thrusting his slender hips between his partner in a languid, hypnotic rhythm. Krueger kept his patch much lighter, small, thin, and fluffy blond pubes against larger, thicker black ones. And Krueger knew just how to work his hips; senseless grinding while he began sucking bruises into the Russian’s collarbone. The light, gentle lips and hot kisses and breaths, to the sudden, sharp, twinging pain from teeth messed with all of Nikto’s senses.
The smaller’s movements were mesmerizing. His touch overwhelming, and his taste indescribable. Krueger had the trained killer all wrapped pretty around his finger, humming, cheeks fuzzy and warm with all these overwhelming sensations. The Austrian kissed a heavy, sloppy trail up his neck and lapped over the shell of his ear. His hand met with Nikto’s bare stomach, tracing and smoothing over bullet holes and knife gashes formed into his flesh. Up to his pec, taking a fist full of that pudgy, full bust and squeezed it hard, eating up every little noise Nikto’s let’s out.
“Let me hear you. Don’t be selfish.” Krueger purred.
Nikto gasped a swear, loud and thick, something Russian Krueger had picked up on. Everything was hot, sticky, and fucking messy all too fast. Nails dug bloody red across Krueger’s lower back, dragging his hips in deeper for more friction, red hot and painful. The man couldn’t go any deeper, their fronts kissing wet just as hard as they were. Sticky chest, wet and flushed up against another as their bodies collided, rubbing and melting with the heat of the night.
Two of Krueger’s fingers reached in between them and drew circles on Nikto’s sensitive bundle of nerves. Quick grinding, panting on gaping teeth; Krueger peeled the hood back and toyed with his partner’s fat clit, eating up delicious moan after moan.
Permission was asked by the way Krueger’s fingertips strummed the folds, soft and gentle, splitting open his cunt to tease the soft lips with each digit.
“You want? Krueger broke the kiss to heave into Nikto’s flushed cheek.
Nikto’s eyes darted as he grumbled, melting brows furrowing into a struggling tremble. He knows Krueger didn’t actually care, he just wanted to hear him desperate, begging for those fingers, something, anything inside him.
“D-don’t ask stupid questions...”
So, the Austrian plunged his two middle fingers right in. Nikto moaned straight into his mouth, quickly struggling to keep kissing back. His hand angled up, thrusting into those gooey insides to work the man apart. Krueger fingered his meaty walls and fucked that warm pussy in deep. Nikto’s guts were velvety soft and pulsing hungrily around each digit, taking him all with no trouble. And the Russian’s pussy was fucking greedy—sucking Krueger’s hand in so deep, he could probably fit his whole damn fist in there.
But just fingers for now. Easy and thrusting, staying grouped together, thick, and deep enough to stir the man up from the inside. The thrusts matched the way Krueger kissed, lapping up him with straight tongue, pumping himself in and out of Nikto’s tight pussy in the same numbing rhythm. He got used to the feel of the man’s raw insides—hot, bubbling, and delicate hell. The pads of his fingers memorized every inch of those walls with diligent care, rubbing and massaging sweeter spots that made Nikto’s face bunch up and tremble from pure pleasure.
Thick, slurred German spilled onto Nikto lips, caught between that starving gulps of himself. “Hübsche Muschi. So eng für mich, gefällt dir, wie sich meine Finger anfühlen, Schlampe...?“
Nikto had to pull from the sloppy kiss to throw his head back and swallow his own moans. Krueger was milking his g-spot for all it’s worth.
“E-English, bastard…Nn-hn…!”
Tongue traces up neck, lapping up delicious pockets of sweat pooled along the way. He didn’t even notice his language slip, “Entschuldigung...” drunkenness slurred his tone, ”Said you must love my fingers…”
Before Nikto could even think of words to object, that full feeling quickly left just as it filled. His walls were left empty and shuddering, and Krueger’s two fingers pulled out slimy and coated in thick, wet juices. Soaked all the way down to his wrist, he touched his thumb to the mess, rolling the sticky slick between those hard-working fingers. Going back to work around Nikto’s puffy clit, rubbing it keenly with those wet digits, making sure to bathe the entire entrance in its own sweet nectar. The overstimulation was making the man twitch and buck, body curving straight off the bed and onto Krueger’s hungry lips. Rough, wet slaps to Nikto’s good-little cunt left him jolting, beads of slick spewing everywhere.
Krueger left Nikto’s pussy quivering and walls aching for that last bit of relief. His core was on fire, and his body rocked into the hand swiftly pulled away.
Nikto was breathless, face in anguish at all this cruel, unnecessary teasing. “Y-you play too much games, German...!”
Eventually, Nikto toppled the weight and shifted the flow of power, until he had the smaller man pinned to the mattress below him, left all needy and gazing. And he planned on keeping him right there, pushing his shoulder down with a flat, heavy palm.
His tone was now serious, deathly serious, without even saying a word. The Russian’s eyes did all of the talking.
It was clear Nikto favored the more dominant card and was bound to take control anyway. So, Krueger went fucking limp and let the bigger man throw a thigh over his form. Jesus, the way Nikto’s weight hovered over him; he looked like he could crush someone to death with those things.
And if Krueger’s lucky, it’ll be him.
His hand was rough, his gaze near animalistic, starving, and ready to devour whatever stood in his path. Nikto’s calloused palm traced from Krueger’s shoulder up to his collar, his neck and burning up a path to his thin cheek. He took hold of the man’s chin, tugging and separating jaws, exposing hot tongue and slightly swollen lips. Lips thin, blushed red and soft as Nikto’s thumb played with the bottom one. Slimy and hot huffs—Nikto toyed with Krueger’s tongue in a petulant game of tag, stirring it all around his wet domain.
Something in Krueger’s eyes irritated one side of Nikto and lit up another. His mind was caught in an internal struggle, different sides at battle like always. Because the man was looking up at him, doughy, half lidded and sickening gaze.
“You enjoy the view?” Nikto collected himself and saved his mind from those eyes, and those strange feelings they poisoned him with. So, his palm struck Krueger’s sexy little face, mean and playful.
“J-ja...” Something had caught in his throat, and that rushing, blooming pain from the Russian’s big hand made Krueger’s body flush a passionate red.
This man looked so fucking hot above him. Krueger doesn’t necessarily like to submit, but he felt like he fucking belonged beneath Nikto. Ready to be used, ruined, broken, anything.
“You disappoint me...” The Russian took a fist full of short, dirty European blond on his grip, yanking Krueger’s head up to the ceiling. The pain caused a hot, wincing hiss. “I was looking forward to crushing your dick and breaking your hips.”
The two were both looking for a good pounding from the other tonight. But sometimes, you learn to make the best of what you got.
So, if Krueger didn’t have a dick to sit on...
Nikto’s grip harshened, rotating the skull to examine all those chiseled, wonderful features. “Your face will have to do.”
Krueger’s lips were stolen hard and fast as Nikto swooped down. The contact was brief, only meant to share sloppy saliva and melting passion. Nikto left his tongue to dribble a long, stringing wad of bubbling spit down his partner’s throat. Putrid and disgusting. Krueger, of course, gulped down that sweet treat without regard. Nikto had to pull this hungry mutt back by its mane, chasing after his taste without any manners.
“You love to act like dog?” The Russian tugged, “We’re going to treat you like dog. Понимать...?”
Krueger’s eyes fluttered. Shit—he was getting all addicted to this man. The sweet pain he could dish, mixed with warm, unadulterated pleasure nearly drove him to insanity. His head shaking was frantic, panting with his tongue out.
A grin curled on Nikto’s scarred up face. He had Krueger suffering from a high and desperate—and it all looked delicious. “Good boy...” His reward for such compliant obedience was a fresh, hot clump of spit on his eager tongue, and another light, satisfying slaps the face.
“But still...” Nikto inched his body along, until both his large, powerful thighs planted themselves on each side of the Austrian’s head. Nikto bent that easy head back, and Krueger’s mouth gaped wide, drooling, and ready to devour. His eyes were glossy, mind completely mush.
“What good is a mutt without any discipline...?”
Nikto pushed that head back, palm pressing against damp forehead to get that perfect angle he wanted. Thighs wide to make room, before the Russian sat his ass down like the human beneath was a nice, comfy chair.
Because right now—Krueger was nothing but.
All the man’s weight sat down on Krueger’s neck without hesitation; Nikto felt the air deflate from those lungs like a balloon. Once he got comfortable, he relaxed his legs and closed them around his partner’s head. Nikto’s moans could probably be heard from next door, and the room after. But fuck, everything was so fucking right with this.
A shivering “H-holy shit...!” left the Russian’s lips, ragged and deep as he fucking lost himself all on that tongue in seconds. Krueger knew exactly what to do, and exactly how to do it, too. No facial hair made the damp surface smooth, nice and easy to glide your sopping cunt across. Scars through his lip and other prominent, features made good things to rub against—different textures, same vivid, overwhelming feeling. Lapping and lapping over Nikto’s soft, sensitive labia with the strokes of his hips—and the way Krueger’s artistic tongue ripped through Nikto’s trembling walls stripped his mind of everything he once knew. It was mind-numbing insanity the Russian couldn’t get enough of.
Pleasure ran up Nikto’s spine like electricity and forced his spine into an arch, bending him back until his head peered up at the rickety ceiling fan. Eyes drilled tight as he found some leverage behind himself, clawing into the sheets and cupping his throbbing chest. His bust ached, sore and neglected, longing for how Krueger had groped him earlier. His hand wasn’t the same, but he still tried, squeezing his burning pec and letting the full, pliable flesh fill his shaking grip. Loud, careless gasps and chokes floated up to the ceiling as Nikto fucked Krueger’s perfect face, not a care in the world who hears him scream. All the right features for Nikto to grind on—it was even better than he imagined. Yes, he’s thought of riding Krueger’s face so many times, even getting off on the thought once or twice—but the feel of his mouth was different than Nikto could’ve ever dreamed off. Everything was so raw, so hot and wet. Those lips puffy and tender from all that heavy making out made it even better to kiss Nikto’s pussy with. And the soldier never seems to tire—his jaw must be aching under there, but he still kept his tongue working and that face eager-to-please.
This is when Nikto believes this might be the end. He’s finally met his match. He was expecting Krueger to tap out by now, struggle and give up—something.
Because when Nikto rides your face, he aims to kill. Just pray you make it out alive.
But Krueger can’t be human. Suffocating, and still managing to devour the man above like he was starving.
Nikto was steadily losing his grinding rhythm—going weak in defeat of that warrior Krueger calls a tongue. Practically crushing Krueger’s neck with his weight as he found little strength to sway his hips back and forth, up, and down that strong nose and sharp chin. So much so that the Austrian himself had to take action, gripping Nikto’s thighs harder, deeper, trying to rock all that meat into him some more.
The Russian swallowed his weak, pitiful exhaustion and ignored that toe-curling, boiling sensation deep in his core. To hell with himself if he was going to give up that easily! Nikto’s thighs had this pathetic, weak tremble, but still, he found the strength to lift himself up just enough to bring himself forward, stormbound onto trembling hands. Generously, he let Krueger cherish that small gulp of fresh air, peering down at his smooth, messy face between his swollen bust.
Krueger heaved, dazed, tongue out and grinning deviously. He was nowhere near finished with his sublime meal.
He gave two slaps to the meaty muscle on the side of Nikto’s thighs and spoke between confident pants. “If you can’t take it, that’s fine.”
Oh, that cocky glint was definitely going to be the end of Nikto.
He found a nice, thick patch of short hair on his head to grab on, yanking out just a few strands little before he spat, nearly out of breath.
“Wrong. Do dogs speak where you’re from? in Russia, they only bark.”
It was easier for Nikto to grind his pussy down on his partner’s face a lot more like this—the angle was much better. His hips itched up as he dug his sex deep down into Krueger before bucking himself forward. His moans dissolved into shaking groans as he got off, desperate and selfish, claiming this man as his own personal chair from now on. How the fuck could Nikto ever share this? this tongue; oh, and that nose—this entire face was all his to keep. And to prove it Nikto began grinding, swaying his hips in an odd, familiar pattern. Zig-zag across, straight down into a stumping plop, more straight drags and a fun, rounding circles across Krueger’s lips.
You fucking guessed it. Nikto was spelling his name on that shit.
Now that the Russian was leaned more forward, Krueger had more freedom to lick his whole pussy from the back. He tilted Nikto up more with that grip on his hips to more of those underside laps, tongue catching all that sweet sap pooling from his twitching hole. Long and flat like the dog he was, Krueger ate his fill of the man’s sweet, honeysuckle cunt until the taste was embedded into his brain. He spread apart those cheeks and licked a hot trail starting from his asshole, making Nikto shiver just right. A deep, rough slap to the cheeks of the ass Krueger cupped to leave his blooming handprints like a written signature.
Nikto could feel some panting, and then, his whole insides clenched at the vibrating sensation of words hummed struggling beneath him.
Nikto only tightened his grip, sitting down harder, punctuating his tone with nasty, heavy grinding.
“Wrong again. Dogs do not speak without order!”
Nikto strummed his acing clit with the Austrian’s nose, licking his lips at the continous waves of humming pleasure. “Did we tell you to speak? Don’t talk when your mouth is full.”
And of course, Krueger always had the option to tap out—three simple hits to the thigh, and Nikto would acknowledge the simple message. But not once did Krueger even think about forfeiting. It was astonishing, really, all Nikto’s weight and just barely any air—it would be an admirable death, in both their opinions.
So, Nikto rode that face like a god-damn horse, hips rocking so vividly above, leaving Krueger to trace his movements. Hips languid turning to a more hasty, eager bucking as his orgasm drew near, warmth near boiling over deep in his stomach. He was more manipulative of Krueger’s movements, yanking his hair to slow down that tongue, edging himself to the max to just prolong this insanity a little longer. Nikto wanted the Austrian to drown in his pussy right now. Permanently get him addicted to his taste, the deep, musky scent of his pubes and just all around Nikto. And rest assured, Krueger was thoroughly hooked on it all. Pleasant, humming groans as he sucked on his swollen clit, nose buried in that dark, thick bush and inhaling that raw stench of his sex. He wasn’t too fond of this humiliating dog-like commands, but like a good fucking mutt, Krueger ate his bowl shiny and clean.
Faster and faster, bumping that sweet bundle of nerves smack into his nose and stimulating himself just enough until he came. Climax hit Nikto like a god-damn bus. His insides twisted up—everything was abrupt, hard, and simply euphoric. He came so loud he was sure that were going to get a few complaints from neighbours, hell—even the people walking along the street could hear him bellow. The window was still open.
The overload rocked Nikto’s sensitive body to the core, doubling over the pleasure straight to his brain. Knees locked, thighs tensed, muscles clenched and swelled, everything was an uncontrollable mess. He came right down onto Krueger’s eager face, trapping his poor skull in a death-like grip, constricting him like a giant python. There was no hope for the man below. Everything gushed and pulsed, oozed and throbbed. Nikto had both hands buried in those short, blond locks as everything came crashing down in a red-hot explosion. His ears rang, vision blurred, teeth clenched up at the ceiling. The flood of dopamine and other overstimulating hormones blocked the blood flow to his brain—it was so intense, he thought he’d pass out.
Rest in peace to Krueger, who had gone completely limp for that orgasm that seemed to last forever.
Nikto left a sticky, slimy mess in his wake as he slowly lifted his soaked ass. “e-eбать...” he panted, shuddering, crawling off his face along the bed on all fours, still trying to piece his scattered brain back together. “You alive, German...?”
No answer. Nikto peered back—shit, maybe he did fucking kill him.
Nikto found himself back at the base of his partner’s exasperated form, watching him gasp, looking high as a kite.
Well, he was alive, to say the least.
Krueger’s definitely had some close calls all his life, but never has he come this close to the sweet embrace of death before. Hell, he was ready to tap out and call it a night already. Sparks went off from his brain as he lay there, dazed, shocked—like he needed a full-system reboot. Krueger’s eyes were much bigger than his belly; he couldn’t handle all that magnificent pussy Nikto sprawled out on a silver platter. A heavenly, melting taste that was sure to drive you out of your mind—if you were even worthy of it.
Nikto’s eyes rolled at the pathetic sight. I mean—he wasn’t really trying to kill the man with his pussy—the whole...suffocation thing just kinda...happened. But Krueger really is some sort of super-human for being able to withstand such rough riding. Not even when he was crushing his neck did Nikto even think of holding back.
Lips met the warmth of Krueger’s skin in slow, sensual nips, deep in the veins and all along the corner of his chin. He was unexpectedly soft and gentle, nuzzling into the man’s neck like a cat, crowding on top and smooching wet into his ear, licking around the hard shell to get it all hot and bothered.
“Anyone ever told you you make a good seat...?”
And Nikto dragged his tongue along Krueger’s cheek, lapping up some of his sweet, sugary essence along that soaked face he left fucking ruined. Cold and disgusting as the slime of his cum began cooling and drying, Nikto licked up so diligently.
Two vigorous, awarding slaps hit Krueger’s limp, wet cheek. Hot, teeth sunk into his earlobe.
“Wake up, Krueger...!” His growl low and playful “We’re not done.”
Like a lifeless corpse, Krueger’s body was dragged across the bed. Nikto sat up and took the man with him by the ankles, kissing up his shin and taking mean bites out of his calf. Kissing, licking, nipping up and up until Krueger found his legs thrown over those broad shoulders. Their height difference only left a small part of Krueger’s back still touching the sheets. All of a sudden, the Austrian’s entire ass was in the air legs dangling with Nikto’s face eating between his thighs.
“W-wait, Nik—” He was trying, struggling to bend and reach, exhausted core tightening up before he could even grasp at Nikto’s buzzed away mess he called ‘hair.’ Oxygen hadn’t fully restored his thoughts and brain functions—his mind still wasn’t really there yet, but Nikto couldn’t care less.
One lap had Krueger’s entire body curling up. Nikto’s tongue was bigger on his smaller cunt, pretty thin lips being split right open at once. The Austrian’s entire body convulsed in one deathly, agonizing spasm, but the man kept the balance with rough grips to his lighter hips and thighs. Nikto didn’t pace it—start off slow and work his way along—no, he just fucking dove in and started devouring Krueger like his last meal. Nothing was gentle. Everything was overwhelming and rough, to the way Nikto’s tongue dug deep, to that bleeding grip into raw flesh. All of it made Krueger’s face dye a bashful, burning red. His face was on fire, just like the rest of his entire body. Any bucking he did only drove his clit along the Russian’s ruined surface even more.
Nikto’s tongue leisurely lolled up the folds, like licking a stamp or mail. He doesn’t have any particular experience with eating pussy, which is why he just decided to jump right in and get fucking messy. Such a cute, adorably shy clit buried in the hood of wet wrinkles Nikto teased, swirling it around and pressing in deep with his tongue. He sucked on Krueger’s soft, hairless entrance until it became all puffy, slightly swollen and trembling from all the playful torture. It was clear the man doesn’t get very much love down here from anyone but himself by his breathy reactions. Krueger deserved up close and personal attention. Such a shame, the Austrian really has an adorable cunt down here—easy and delicious, sensitive and soaks like a fountain. Nikto could do this for hours on end—just watching Krueger’s hips twitch and his gasps break off into German curses, overwhelmed from the pure sensation of being eaten out all too easily.
At a certain twitching thrust, Nikto broke his face away with a sloppy trail of saliva, panting hot against the folds. “You move too much. Keep yourself still.”
Talking was difficult for Kreuger right now. Very difficult. “Y-you expect me t-to be still when you—Nigh—!!”
Those legs locked around Nikto’s neck without a key as arms flew across his own shriveling face.
This pleasure was so raw and intense, you couldn’t help but fear it.
And half of his gut was already so tense and knotted because Krueger was half expecting Nikto to bite his cunt at some point. Even though Krueger’s pleasure was supposed to be top priority, the Russian quickly found his own entertainment in all this. Krueger tastes like fucking heaven, fresh and juicy, warm and insatiable. Deeper—his tongue needs to be deeper, tasing every inch of this man’s walls as far as he could possibly reach. He began lapping at a rhythm in tune with the way Krueger tried to grind up on his face. It was a pathetic attempt—desperate, needy, and so adorable. Krueger was heaving, chest tight with a first dug into Nikto’s furry carpet of hair left on his right side, struggling to guide Nikto’s face in an irritating away.
But the Russian needed to milk more of Krueger’s sweet juices onto his tongue.
Nikto let the man slump down to the bed gently, back still bent and knees near touching his own head. A sweaty grip under the joint to keep his legs bent in place, leaving the man open and just the way Nikto liked. Soaked down to the sheets; he didn’t have to waste any time teasing or prepping, his fingers just slid right in. Krueger’s eyes flew open, mouth a silent cry and body twitching as the Russian pinned him as still as possible.
Two thick fingers tore through his velvity walls, ripping the Austrian apart like a piece of paper. His insides were so soft, so warm and meaty with this crushing strength as Nikto shoved his middle and index through, so tight and inviting. And instantly the man got to work, thrusting his digits in and out while sucking at Krueger’s abused, quaking cunt.
So tight he could just barely work through all that fucking force, shoving himself knuckle deep and feeling like he’d lose a finger or two. Scissoring, spreading those mushy insides apart just to see that pretty pink and breathe in all that heat. By the way Krueger was senselessly rocking his body into it, desperately trying to fuck himself uncontrollably on those fingers, Nikto could tell the man was losing his mind on it.
Krueger’s brain was in a constant state of euphoria, constantly mumbling some empty German into the crooks of his elbows shrouding his face. The feeling of Nikto gulping down his cunt in greedy, thirsty swallows made his toes curl right up.
But eye contact was key if Nikto was fucking you.
“Did I tell you to look away, German?” He barked, slowing his fingers down to agonizingly languid strokes, making it clear Krueger isn’t going to get anything more if those eyes aren’t on him in the next five seconds.
Voice raspy, wad of spit melting on his cunt, “Keep your eyes on us when we fuck you, got it...!?”
Nikto’s eyes bled into his soul, making his hot stomach even hotter and his entire body pulse with fear-mixed lust.
But Krueger was always so good at taking orders.
Krueger turned to putty at the mercy of those skillful digits, gasping—keeping that visual contact was a fucking struggle. Nikto stroked his guts in all the right places, tongue doing wonders eating him up while nose grinded against numbing clit.
Until the pads of his fingers grazed over a sweet, tender bundle of nerves, and Krueger choked.
A devilish smile curled into his pussy he could feel that grin, see the look in those grayish-blue eyes.
“We’re going to make you fucking scream, German.”
“S-shit—wait, N-Nikto—!“ Krueger hiccupped, blissed and frantic, before his legs were thrown up and the Russian hunched over him, knees now running into his own face.
Two fingers were all it really took. Nikto crooked his wrist up and began pounding that perfect little spot in a rhythm of none stop thrusts—and then a five second hold pressing deep into his organ. Krueger’s toes curled tighter. His abs squeezed mind crumbling as he fucking gushed.
Krueger still did a nice job breaking his neck to look at him, although one eye was fluttered shut and the other was just half lidded and lazy. Clear, refreshing juices sprayed from Krueger’s pretty pussy each time Nikto beat that spot, watching the squirt like a broken sprinkler. Nikto caught what he could on his tongue and slurped up the rest straight from the source in heavy, loud gulps of it all.
Oh, he made the Austrian scream alright.
Nikto drank him in greedy and starving. The other had definitely came once just now—so he was trying to milk Krueger for a second way too soon. So sensitive and delicate flesh from an orgasm allowed easier way for one more large finger, stretching, and filling him to tears. Krueger was getting the shit fucked right out of him with Nikto’s three fingers alone. And now, that warm gushing seemed uncontrollable; spurts whenever his digits plunged in too deep, too fast or too hard. Nikto even pulled his hand out and made Krueger gush just by strumming his three digits quickly over that abused clit like a skilled musician.
Loud and hard Nikto laughed, nothing short of amused and impressed the Austrian had so much more in him. “Look at that!”
If Krueger’s mind wasn’t so broken already, he’d actually be amazed—he didn’t even know he could squirt. And it was all pouring right out like a flooded damn. Kruger’s face was punched a sweet, beautiful Cherry red, tears welling in the corners as Nikto practically ruined him. He came a second numbing, convulsing time with nothing but those devilish fingers and cursed tongue to thank. Nikto guzzled down every drop, loud and gasping against him.
Kruger’s own fingers will never be enough again, not after this.
Nikto cupped his clean-shaven face to wipe off his dripping chin. He left Krueger to drown in the high of his own ecstasy, pulling back in his knees and letting him fall. The man looked good like this: coated in his own embarrassing mess, wet like he’d just stepped into a shower and jolting occasionally.
Kruger’s eyes held this glossy, dazed stare.
The flavor of the man’s sweet, sweet pussy left Nikto lolling over his lips, licking up his fingers and chin like a mad man.
By now, Krueger was just barely clinging onto life. His consciousness was fading out, and his body was already so numb, limp like he had died just days ago. He could feel the sensation from heavy hands to both his warm cheeks—just not the stinging twinge anymore. His ears continued to ring out, and it all just melted into some wonderful swirl of bliss to his brain.
"Wake your ass up, German!"
Those fresh heaves were stolen right off Krueger's lips and replaced with huffs hot enough to make you suffocate. They could taste each other perfectly on one another's tongue, swallowing the other's unique taste and savor the sweet honey. And when their flavors mixed, it created this insatiable, enchanting cocktail that ravaged their minds, their thoughts, everything.
Nikto slipped his lips from the chaos somehow, absolute drunk all over again on the saccharine liquor their bodies created. He ran a long, wet lap along Kruger's warm cheek all aggressive like a dog, gasping deep in his ear.
"Or I fuck you twice as hard."
More senseless, desperate grinding. The room was so thick; the walls dripped with pure, wheezing lust coming from the pair. Nikto ate up the man's lips from above, slurping on his tongue and battling on a winning streak. He kept those knees back, hand hooked under the sweaty pocket pushing those knees back and bucking their clits together rough and hard. The German reveled in the rough feel of Russian hair against his raw skin; Nikto’s wild patch of pubs grinding against him so sweet. Kruger's claws were dug deep into that burning flesh, scraping up sweaty dirt from the skin of Nikto's elbows. More. they both needed more of this insanity.
Nikto dragged his partner along, yanking up his hefty thigh and pushing him flat to his back, positioning Krueger like pliable dough. Then, Nikto took a nice, comfortable seat between the man’s warm, parted legs, hucking that jolting calf right over his shoulder. Moans of hot and heavy ecstasy filled the room, spilling through the cracks and out into the night. Krueger laid right back and let the bigger man rock him into the mattress, spine bent with the electric currents of pure pleasure surging trough his veins. Nikto scissored himself between Krueger’s trembling thighs, hastily fucking himself on that sensitive cunt to chase his own orgasm. He kept that right leg glued to his abdomen and locked himself inside the Austrian’s grip. The contact was like setting flame from little sparks, watching it explode into a fiery ball of red-hot passion in seconds.
The Russian’s heavier weight pushed him deeper, humping Krueger’s raw, wet cunt head on. Everything was a sopping mess; the bottom tearing into one of Nikto’s thighs to pull him in closer—like they were born to be one.
This is how you fuck. This is how you make your partner come so hard they go blind. Sensational, raw, and primal fucking. It was all in the bigger hips Nikto sported. Rocking, digging into him, pushing his cunt as far into Krueger’s greedy pussy as far as it’ll go. Their sexes kissed and made love all on their own, lips sliding against and into sensitive, pink lips. It began to evolve into something mutual eventually—both learning what and how the other liked. Nikto liked it fast, to dig deep and rut off nice and hard; Krueger preferred to be teased and edged with how their cunts stroked each other. Compassion was key; the tribbing had to be mutual art of fucking to truly maximize the pleasure.
Their tiny cocks stroking each other, throbbing, swollen, achy, riddled with pleasure; sensitive and overstimulated to the max. Nikto was rough the way he dug his own clit into the chaos, the two swollen nubs of sensitive nerves flicking against each other so desperately it hurt.
The two got off on each other in a way neither couldn’t’ve even imagined. Krueger rode with his core while Nikto swayed and bucked, timing perfectly in sync with the other’s fluid movements. Their juices mixed and leaked across the bed, slicking their thighs, and making a fun, soaking mess. Eye-contact became law for both, and breaking it was an ungodly sin. Everything quickly became breathy, blurry chaos of uncoordinated movements, frantic and edging all in one. Their faces were painted this desperate, melting, and needy mix with the other’s name trip right off their tongue, cooked in a moan or deep cry. Backs arched as muscles tigh[;tened, cries fell and bodies spasmed. Nikto and Krueger came a good few times, just to come some more. The sea of pleasure seemed endlessly deep, the sensation of just two raw pussies making out was euphoric. Addicting. Insatiable.
-
Sweet sounds of the morning pooled in from all across Europe. The delightful song of bird, the bright, loving warmth of the bathing sun, and the occasional groan of a hangover. Soldiers are practically bred to wake up before light even hits, but...not for this pair today. The light hit Nikto and Krueger like bright headlights, turning them restless and grumpy—only just haven given into the bliss sleep gives when you’re utterly exhausted. The pair had dried themselves up until the brink of dawn. In his sleep, Krueger was unconsciously clinging to Nikto’s restless wider form like a damsel in distress, arms delicately wrapped around with a face buried in the warmth of his broad back. He’d found himself unconsciously running smooth, gentle fingers under Nikto’s bigger bust, soothed by the familiar texture of the scar that rang along it. Deep, healed over, and a blessing. it felt like he was stroking his own.
Morning rose up about half an hour later, give or take. And almost poetically, the brisk motel room air was filled with this dark, suffocating exhaust once again. How the two men laid back against the headboard, blissful and basking in their own sins of last night between a rotating cigarette had to be a form of literature—moment full of meaning, full of them.
Nikto and Krueger woke up tired, sweaty, wet, and dehydrated, curled up in one big, cuddly ball. It was nearing that time to report back to base, yet the two men continued to bask in the glow of...life. The mattress was a heavy, sweaty mess. Two pairs of legs unconsciously fiddled together over wet spots that turned the thin sheets they were wrapped in cold and icky, yet nice and comfy. Bodily fluids of all kinds: spit, tears, slick, orgasm, all coated their warm skin and bathed the men in the musk of the other’s scent.
Cookie-cutter shark bites ran all over Nikto’s chest, his big, pudgy, lovable pecs, and nipples like he’s been sucked on by a starving leech.
It was obvious Krueger has some favorite spots along the man’s body.
And the Austrian had his fair share of battle scars from last night as well—Krueger looked like he was mauled alive from head to toe. His chest, nipples, neck, and thighs all had these bruises, greedy chunks nibbled on like he was a walking, talking, dog bone.
They were both unbelievably sore, and knew it was only going to get worse in a few hours.
Krueger passed back the nice, sizzling bud, but not before taking a long, surreal, speechless puff straight into the ceiling, high, still relishing in the unbelievable bliss of this whole thing.
“…Wanna fuck again?”
And Nikto almost swallowed the cigarette in an abrupt choke, taken so aback, the burning stick nearly flew down his throat. “W-we’re...not drunk anymore—”
“And...?” Krueger turned his whole body over in the thin sheets and his eyes met with Nikto’s pretty sea. “I still want to sit on your face.”