Cowboy Casanova (Dolenzmith) (COMPLETE)

40

Davy chuckled as he watched the sleeping man from the doorway.

"Michael," Micky cried out pitifully, "don't go...don't leave—"

"I'm not going anywhere," Davy smirked to himself, reaching down to unbutton his pants as he approached the bed. He was half-hard and groaned lowly as he stroked himself through his boxers.

Micky was lying on his side, facing away from Davy. Perfect, he thought. This'd be easy.

Minutes felt like hours in the dark, stuffy room as Davy worked on undressing Micky without waking him, but it was worth it. Thankfully, Micky was a heavy sleeper, and Davy groaned again when he finally buried himself deep inside.

He took his time, knowing Micky was practically dead to the world and Michael was probably beating Peter to a pulp, which made Davy snicker. He buried his face in the back of Micky's neck to muffle the sound.

Davy was getting close. Micky was hard, mumbling something incoherent in his dreams as he let out soft, breathy moans. The British man couldn't help but wonder whom he was dreaming about.

Probably Michael, no doubt.

The thought made Davy grit his teeth together and he started going faster, sloppier, moaning louder as he did so. His orgasm left him shuddering and gasping for breath and he reached around, pumping Micky until he, too, came.

Breathless, Davy pulled out. He glanced around the bedroom for a towel to clean up.

That's when he felt the massive hand wrap around the back of his neck. Davy screamed as he was slammed into the wall.

Then everything went black.