A Chance Encounter (Chris Hemsworth X OMC)

Like Hormone-Driven Teenagers (NSFW)

The silent house greeted Chris and Wyatt with its dim lighting and cool interior. They had barely made it into the kitchen when Chris was on Wyatt like his life depended on it. Hoisting him up, he set him on the nearby counter and got between his legs. His kisses were explosive and needy, and his hands were like magic all over Wyatt's body.

"Do you want to come up to my room?" Wyatt asked when Chris had given his lips a break and was kissing along his neck.

In response, Chris lifted him off of the counter and started walking down the hallway. Wyatt wrapped his legs around his waist and held on as Chris easily carried him down the hall, up the stairs and into his room. They fell slowly onto the bed and Chris promptly claimed his mouth once again as his hands moved slowly but firmly up and down Wyatt's body.

"You feel amazing," Chris whispered. He moved his hands along Wyatt's waist and slowly peeled the t-shirt back. Wyatt sat up a little so Chris could pull it off. Then the Aussie yanked his own shirt off and was on him again, their bare chests colliding. Wyatt gasped at the strength and power of the man on top of him, his body melting to his every touch.

Chris made out with him in a feverish but controlled pace. It was as if time didn't matter. Wyatt could sense his need to enjoy every single moment of what was happening. And, truth be told, it felt good to be with a man who wanted to savor every sensation. Brian had been good in bed, but it had always felt rushed. But with Chris it felt so full. If Brian was a television with only one channel, Chris was a full package. And speaking of packages, Wyatt could feel Chris's length through the barrier of their shorts. Though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch it, he took a note from Chris's book and took things at a slow, measured pace. Rather than immediately undress him, he focused on their kisses and the feel of his upper body. His fingers traced over every muscle, familiarizing himself with each curve.

"Your body is so beautiful," Chris moaned as his mouth slowly began to make its way from Wyatt's collarbone to his chest, his fingers working his body over all the while. It was like getting a really sexy massage, and his body felt so at ease and on edge all at once. "So, so fucking hot," Chris went on as his lips found Wyatt's side.

"Chris," Wyatt sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair, loving the way his mouth felt on his skin.

Chris's hands were on his thighs, rubbing up and down as he continued to worship his abs. The last time his hands moved back up, they reached for the button on his shorts, opening them up before slowly sliding them off of him.

"Someone's keen," Chris chuckled when the shorts caught on Wyatt's erection. His breath was hot on Wyatt's skin, making him shiver with anticipation.

Wyatt's response came out as a moan as Chris pulled his shorts off before getting back between his legs and kissing his way back up to his mouth. Wyatt's hands dragged down his broad, smooth back, kneading the muscles. He wrapped his legs around his waist, grinding their pelvises against each other. Then Chris's hand moved down between their bodies and popped the button of his shorts open. The sound of that and the zipper coming down made Wyatt's entire body beg for what was happening.

Chris wasn't wearing underwear.

Wyatt felt it immediately when the shorts were gone and Chris was back between his legs again. In the pale moonlight that shone through the window, he could see that Chris was fully nude. No fantasy he could ever have conjured up in his head would have done him justice. He was just about to reach out and touch him when Chris hooked his fingers into Wyatt's underwear and pulled them down at a painfully slow pace.

"Chris," he gasped. He was close to pleading for it, but he stayed strong, committed to this sexy, sultry pace.

Chris laid down on him and he felt his sex pressing against him. Slick with the excitement of arousal, they slid against each other in a slow, rhythmic fashion.