Mirza was tighter than Shae had anticipated, and the sweat beginning to bead on his brow was proof of that fact. His hands worked over the other man's hips, pulling him back with sharp, rough movements as their bodies crashed together.
The words and sounds spilling from Mirza's lips stirred something low in his belly, something hot and coiling deep in his core that left him groping for a better hold as he arched over the nearly prone figure beneath him. His lips desperately sought out the smooth, golden-toned skin of Mirza's back, and he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the length of his lover's spine until it disappeared beneath the fall of thick, kinky hair.
Shae buried his face in those tight curls, inhaling the scent of nicotine and alcohol and all manner of unsavory things whose aromas still clung to Mirza, and he didn't need to ask where the other man had been, or what he may have done for a living, because he could imagine it quite clearly. Not that it mattered at this moment; right now, this man belonged to him, and he intended to take all that his lover had to give.
The muscles in his abdomen flexed and shifted as he rolled his hips against Mirza with long, fluid motions, depositing more kisses at the crook of neck and shoulder. With a large portion of his weight now supported on one arm (and Mirza, truth be told), his free hand snaked along his partner's stomach and curled over the erect cock, fingertips nimbly maneuvering the swollen flesh to the same rhythm as his own thrusts.