Creak.
It filled the room, touching every corner of the small house, mingling with the soft snores and even breathing.

Hands, soft and gentle, snaked around his head, covering his eyes. Not a smart move, considering the size of the chef's knife in his hand. Warm breath ghosted over the back of his neck, making its way to his ear. A husky whisper - "guess who" - of a question that needed no answer. He turned within the circle of arms, gazing into the face of the man he loved.

Creeeeak.
If he could have risen up, if his body wasn't protesting every movement, he would have stopped it.

His jeans, faded by hours in the sun, normally clung to his hips like a second skin. In a matter of moments, they were pooled around his ankles, as those same soft hands made their way down his neck to his shoulders, tracing the line of sinewy muscles that gave way to a broad chest. Fingers mingled in the coarse hairs there, tracing a line to the pebbled flesh of his nipples.

Creak…creak…creak.
He opened one eye, stared at the source of the offending object and willed it to stop. With a heavy sigh - and every ounce of energy he possessed - he stood, walking toward the sound.

A moan escaped his lips, ragged and heavy. Gentle kisses, reverent enough to be placed on a sleeping baby's head, rained down on his stomach as the god before him sank down to his knees. All thoughts of innocence left him as those same lips caressed the head of his cock. His hands found the edge of the kitchen counter as he braced himself, knowing what was about to transpire.

Creak.
With the light of the full moon pouring in from the window above, he surveyed the offending object, wondering what his best course of action would be to rid himself of its incessant creaking.

His head dropped to his chest and his eyes opened. Peering out of the small slit, he watched his hardness played a game of hide and seek. In. Out. In. Out. He knew that if he could last for hours on end, then this game would continue as well. But, the longest he had ever been able to hold out was an hour, and even that amazed him.

Cre…
His hand stopped the motion, the sound, and for a moment the only thing he heard was the snoring. He let go of the door and it immediately creaked again.

The changing pressure on his cock caused him to open his eyes and look down, watching in amazement as the other man removed his clothes with one hand, his mouth never straying off target. He knew this wouldn't be a gentle meeting of flesh as soon as he saw one hand slip underneath his lover. The increased suction told him one thing - the other man was preparing himself, fingers probing deep inside, stretching, massaging, making himself ready for what was to come.

Cre…crea…creak.
With a heavy sigh, he let go of the door, knowing that the task would have to wait till morning.

No words were spoken, just a silent invitation, apparent in the deep brown eyes that stared up at him, pleading to be taken. And that is just what he did. Leaning his lover against the counter, he sank himself into the warm depths of his body and began a dance that they had perfected over the years. His hands roamed from dark curls to slender hips, moving down to caress the firm ass he was buried in at the moment.

Creak…creak…creak.
A sound behind him caused him to turn, looking down at the angelic face he knew better than his own. A smile slowly crossed swollen lips and he had no choice but to smile back.

A sharp snap of his hips met with little resistance. The blunt hardness met with soft tissue deep inside and his lover jerked backward, catapulting them into the table. He was forced onto it and he tried to control his breathing as his lover rode his cock, hard and fast. He had to chuckle when his lover uttered, "take that, Hidalgo!"

Creak, creak. Creak, creak.
A hand motioned for him to return and he abandoned his mission, returning to safe environs of his lover's arms.

As he joined Orli on the heap of pillows in the living room floor, he looked up at the broken swinging door that separated it from the kitchen and tried to remember when they had risen from the table and slammed into it. He had forgotten about the old cedar bookshelf that rested on the other side. When the door hit the unforgiving wood, it had popped right off its hinges.

Somehow, they had made it past the chest and onto the coffee table, which now lay on its side. After that, he had managed to maneuver the lithe body onto the sofa, where the evening's festivities had ended with a proverbial bang. Viggo didn't know at what point in time they had slid onto the floor. He didn't know when Orlando had pulled the cushions off for the makeshift bed they now shared.

As Orli's long fingers wrapped around his cock, coaxing it back to life, Viggo found he didn't really care. He knew that one day, this vision of loveliness who was attacking his erection as if he hadn't eaten in days and his flesh was the finest meal in the land, would be the death of him. However, as the door lost its tenuous hold on life and dropped to the floor with a loud crash, Viggo realized he no longer cared.