Taking Flight, Part 2

The flight home stretched on through the endless night. Jason Adonis, bone-tired, slipped from the cockpit to snag some rest. Co-pilot Gus Mattox, a Falcon Exclusive with a chiseled edge, flicked the autopilot on. His eyes locked on navigator Kent Larson, who squirmed in his uniform, cock thrusting free like it owned the place. Gus didn't hesitate. He closed the gap, hands rough and sure, pinning Kent against the console. Kent gasped as Gus yanked his pants lower, exposing that straining length. Gus dropped to his knees first, mouth hot and demanding, swallowing Kent whole in one slick pull. Saliva dripped, mixing with pre-cum, as Gus worked him deep, tongue swirling like a promise of more. Kent bucked, fingers gripping the controls—thank god for autopilot. Gus rose, shoving Kent's shirt open to bite at his nipples, hard enough to sting. He spun him around, bending him over the throttle. Gus's own cock, thick and insistent, pressed in without mercy, stretching Kent wide. They fucked like that, frantic and raw, the cockpit humming with their rhythm—thrusts syncing to the engine's low roar. Gus pulled out, slick and gleaming, and dragged Kent to the jump seat. 'Watch this,' he growled, flipping it down. He straddled it backward, guiding Kent's hips to straddle him facing away. Kent sank down, impaled deep, the seat's edge biting into his thighs as Gus drove up, relentless. They rocked together, sweat-slick bodies slapping, Kent's cock bouncing free again, untouched but leaking. Gus reached around, stroking him in time, until Kent shattered—hot spurts arcing across the gauges. Gus followed, flooding him with a final, brutal surge.