Mandriven

Brad Mitchell stirred awake at dawn, his body humming with the insistent throb of morning arousal. He glanced at Ted Matthews, still tangled in the sheets, that lithe form a tempting invitation. With a low chuckle, Brad slid a hand under the covers, fingers grazing Ted's hip. 'Rise and shine,' he murmured, voice rough with need. Ted's eyes fluttered open, a sleepy grin spreading as he felt Brad's hardness press against him. No words needed. Ted rolled toward him, lips crashing in a hungry kiss that tasted of last night's whiskey. Brad's hands roamed, pinning Ted's wrists above his head, then trailing down to grip his ass, pulling him closer. They moved with urgent rhythm—Brad thrusting deep, Ted arching up to meet each stroke, gasps turning to moans that echoed off the walls. Sweat slicked their skin; the bed creaked under the frenzy. Time slipped away in that haze of pleasure, clocks ticking ignored until the sun climbed high. Both men tumbled into clothes, breathless and sated, racing out the door far too late for the office grind.