Armie lived in Texas, a place which Timothée later found out was a complete 180 of New York. The heat of Texas was horrendous, and it was humid beyond belief, meaning your skin was always covered in a sheen thin of sweat that was revolting and caused you to take a shower every morning, noon and night. Though the people were kind and the food was massive, it was nothing like his home in Hell's Kitchen. He missed the snow and the busy streets at every hour of the day, and he wished he was eating at his favorite hot dog place just down the street at midnight. But if seeing Armie again was staying in Texas for a bit, then Timothee was staying in Texas.

"It really isn't that bad once you get used to it, and besides, you're wearing too many clothes. Do you see me Timmy? This is the way a smart Texan looks in his home. You, on the other hand, look like a melting popsicle."

Armie and Timothée were sitting in Armie's home, on his couch, watching some weird cooking show for recipes that used just short of ten pounds of butter. And Timothee was sweating from head to toe, the area behind his ears was soaked with sweat and he wanted to rip off his deep black distressed jeans. He licked his lips, removing the sweat from his upper lip, and looked to Armie. He, on the other hand, was clad in just his yellow Polk dot boxers, nothing else covering his bronze figure. And the boxers left nothing to the imagination, meaning Timothée could make out the outline of the man's large cock, resting on his thigh.

He swallowed and his legs clamped shut, trying to not even think about a barely dressed sweaty man just a few inches away from him. But it seemed he was being tested for those golden long arms reached other and went to were his jeans met his shirt, nimble fingers gripped the hem and pulled up, up and over his head, leaving his top bared to Armie's searching eyes. He smiled at him and stood, a bit of confidence entering his blood stream and prompting him to undo the button of his jeans and bend to roll them down his legs, making sure to give Armie a show. He could feel the stare on his ass and smiled, stepping out of the jeans and moving back to his seat, clad in blue silk boxers.

The show went on, the woman now talking about how using milk instead of water in a boxed cake adds more flavor for your buck. Timothee looked to Armie and saw he was still staring, the jump in his boxer clad cock was caught by Timothée. They're gaze held, the tv was merely noise to them and Timothee made the first movie.

His slim pale hand slowly reached up to his mouth and a finger slipped in, warm saliva coating the appendage and when it was pulled away, a string of spit kept them connected. The wet finger started at his prominent collar bone, trailing down, down, down to his small petite nipples, circling it till it was coated in wetness. He moved to the next one, loving the way Armie's eyes followed his every movement. There was a fierce hunger in his eyes that sent shivers down his spine, knowing he was awakening something primal in the man next to him.

A deep urge to feel that hunger prompted his finger to move down his skinny chest to the hem of his boxers. Eyes still locked together he moved his hand into the confined area, gripping his hardening cock and jerking it, eyes never leaving Armie's. His head fell back in pleasure, pre-cum slipping down his hand and he hoped Armie was going to act soon.

And his prayers were answered when the large man shot forward, lips pressing against Timothée's, prompting a squeak to leave his lips, though it quickly turned into a moan when his lips was bitten hard enough to hurt. The hand in his boxers was ripped out, and his boxers were gripped and ripped in two, the strength that Armie held in his large hands erotic and frightening all at the same time. The ripped material was thrown over the back on the couch and his slim thighs were gripped in rough hands. The soft lips had left his own and moved to his ear. "Do you have any idea how crazy you make me? I've been holding back since Crema and now you decide you want me to?"

Timothée nodded and let out a moan when the grip on his thighs tightened. The pain and pleasure were crossing lines in his mind and were causing him to feel all new forms of pleasure.

Armie moved to his long supple neck and bit down, holding his teeth in the skin, making sure it would leave a mark that people would see. He wanted to mark the pale body as if it was a canvas, ready to be filled with variations of blue and red. Armie ground his now hard cock into the smaller boy and loved the contrast that they had, the boy so much smaller than him, yet it was everything Armie wanted. He wanted to watch the boy come undone by his hand, his cock, his very being. And this would not be that last time. He would take every chance he had to ruin, to worship, to tear apart the boy writhing underneath him.

He moved away from Timothée , sitting down next to his sprawled form and rubbing his cock until it was pointing to the ceiling. Timothée , still naked and trying to catch his breath, rose an eyebrow at Armie. And he received an eyebrow raise in return. He rose onto his knees and knee-walked to Armie, throwing one leg over the man's two monstrous thighs, the sheer size of them were three time the size of his own. They looked at one another and breathed deeply, cocks almost touching, as if reaching out to each other.

Timothée moved first this time, long fingers gripping Armie's thick cock, and moving his hand up and down in slow motions, loving the dark hungry look in the mans eyes. It spurred Timothée to move faster, the words "Timmy, Timmy, Timmy," leaving Armie's lips in hurried pants. This went on for a few minutes, Timothée in Armie's lap, rubbing his hard cock. The boys other hand moved and gripped his own cock and moved it in tandem with his other one, wanting them to reach their release together.

Armie's muscled arm moved with speed, stopping Timothée's movements in one fluid stop and instead taking their lovemaking to another level, using both of his hands to grip the boy's boney pale hips and lift him straight onto his red tipped erection. They let out loud moans together, the overwhelming feeling of being connected caused Timothee to see stars behind his eyes and Armie was on another planet.

He was in a word of pleasure, the boy he held such deep affection was in his lap, on his cock, moaning his name, or at least he would be. He had called Timmy to Texas to see him because he missed holding the boy in arms like he did in Crema, or having their lips fighting for dominance at odd hours of the day. He wanted to feel the slim hips of Timmy, hear his awkward laugh and smell his raven locks.A deep possessiveness lived in his heart and it craved the smaller boy, a need to protect and love, and some timers it was so strong it scared the man. Did Timmy feel the same way? Did he even see how he felt about him? Would he accept him?

The answered to these questions lied with the boy riding his cock on his lap, moaning with fervor as his insides were turned inside out. The cock in him was making him feel powerful and powerless in all the right ways, as if he had no control over his body, but all the control over the older man's. It was a euphoria that he hoped never left. And if it did, then he would ride this man until he had his fill.

Timothée bounced on the cock in his ass, moaning when it pressed all the right buttons to turn his body into mush beneath the man's hands. The hands were gripping his hips, deep indents were left on his skin under the strong fingers, and the contrast of the bruises was that of a masterpiece of Armie's creation Timothee's hands gripped Armie's wide shoulders, fingernails making sure to leave their own marks, so they would both have battle scars.

They moved in tandem, Armie slamming up, balls deep, just as Timothée would slam down onto the relentless cock that was giving him more pleasure than his hand or any other girl could give his body. He was made for the tall man fucking him, made to be fucked by him, made to be loved by hands.

They climaxed in unison, Armie yelling as his release shot into Timothee's willing body, and Timothee shooting his release across Armie's chest. Timothée leaned back, head thrown back and hair hanging limp and wet, and Armie took advantage of that supple neck, licking the sweet and salty skin and biting, as he had done to the other side. Timothée was helpless, trapped in the cage of the older mans arms, nothing to do but let himself be claimed by the man he had just ridden to completion;.

Their hearts had calmed down now, their breaths returning to normal and the two men stared at each other, silently asking where they went from there. Would they act like it never happened and move on with their lives? These thoughts plagued the young boys mind, tears coming to his eyes that fell to fast for him to catch.

Worried hands cupped his cheeks and his tears fell from his eyes as his eyes met Armie's. "Hey, Hey, Hey , Timmy."

"Timmy, Timmy, Timmy."

Armie's eyebrow quirked at the words that left the boys mouth, wondering why he would say his own name. The realization hit him like a comet and he kissed away the fallen tears, eyelids, cheeks and lips included.

"Armie, Armie, Armie" The words were just enough for both of them to meet in a love filled kiss that held uncertain future in it's grasp. But maybe, just maybe, they could face the it together.

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