by Aiden Bates
“Oh, Jason, Oh, Oh, Oh.”
Jason’s hands clenched on Luke’s arse, pulling him forward, so that Luke’s weight was bearing down on Jason’s thigh, finally giving Luke the friction he needed. The sudden movement causes the locket around Luke’s neck to swing forward between them, the change in position making Luke gasp, and he almost loses the rhythm of his stroking so perfect was the new angle at which his body was bending over Jason’s, connected thigh to hip.
His eyes flutter closed briefly as he loses himself in the perfection of having Jason’s hands on his arse, Jason’s cock between his hands and Jason’s body under his. Never could he have imagined a scenario so absolutely right in every way.
If there was a heaven, Luke thinks deliriously, surely it was this.
But Luke could feel the tension radiating through the body under his, so he refocuses, concentrating as hard as ever on the speed, the angle of his strokes, searching for the ideal balance between gentleness and pressure, in awe every moment his fingers travel over the slick heat of Jason’s sizeable girth. He was unable to stop the rocking motion of his body, so he uses it to his advantage to help direct the rhythm of his hands on Jason’s cock, as though he was stroking Jason not just with his hands but with his whole body.
The locket around Luke’s neck sways forward with the movement, each jerk of his body sending it swinging back against his chest in an obscene counterpoint to his thrusting hips. The metal was warm where it strikes his chest, just above his heart, and Luke thinks again how wearing this necklace was like having a part of Jason around his neck, possessing him. The thought makes him shiver all over again, pushing down with his hips to grind hard against Jason’s thigh, fingers tightening inadvertently around Jason’s cock.
Jason cries out in response, his body arching up beneath Luke’s like a bow pulled taut, fingers biting hard into the flesh of Luke’s buttocks.
This was it, Luke thinks, beside himself with anticipation.
Luke could actually feel Jason’s cock swelling in his hands, felt it jerk, and then spurts of warm liquid were pulsing out to coat Luke’s fingers, his wrist, and the skin of Jason’s belly.
Jason was as beautiful as Luke had ever seen him in this moment, his cock still hot in Luke’s hands, his head thrown back, mouth open, the trembling arc of his body pressed up close against Luke, every inch of bare skin glowing in the light of the candles.
Gold, Luke thinks, not for the first time, He was made of gold.
But it was more than gold, it was something brighter at the heart of Jason, as though he had made of light itself, and now it was pouring out of him, heating Luke’s hands and thighs, his arse where Jason was holding him.
Oh, how foolish Luke had been all this time, to think that Jason’s hair, the color of his skin were such that they pick up the color of the light. No, no, he had gotten it all wrong—Jason was the source of it, and here now, with Jason as alive as he could be in Luke’s hands, the light was pouring out of him, so hot, so bright that Luke could hardly stand to look at him without crying out.
His body stays stiff beneath Luke’s for several seconds more, his cock gradually softening under Luke’s hands as he sinks back slowly to the bed, and Luke leaned forward, feeling as greedy as ever, overwhelmed by how many places on Jason he wanted to taste in this moment—the gleam of sweat on his bared throat, the fading flush along his cheeks, the moisture in his eyelashes, the soft pink shadow of his mouth—in order to discover how he was just after he had taken his pleasure, whether he tastes as heavy and golden as he looked.
He decides Jason’s mouth was foremost on his list, so he bends low against Jason’s chest and with an open mouth, kissed the trembling line of Jason’s lips.
He tastes just as good as Luke imagined—better even, dreamy-sweet and hot, but softer, gentler than he felt before, his mouth opening so easily under Luke’s, his tongue less insistent, letting Luke’s tongue explore his mouth with no resistance.
Luke pulled back after a moment, and Jason throws an arm up over his eyes, sighing deeply, the sound full of satisfaction.
Luke shifts off of Jason’s thigh in order to lie beside him, nuzzling his face into the sticky hollow of Jason’s neck, and Jason hums in approval, eyes still shut, lifting his arm to drape it around Luke’s shoulders and pull Luke in against him.
Luke wanted to be good, he wanted to lie still and appreciate this new, gentle, sleepy Jason, whose hard lines have all gone soft as molten fire, whose hand was stroking lazily up and down the line of Luke’s back, drawing shivered out of him; but his own cock was hard and aching again, his pulse pounding insistent along the length of it and Luke cannot help but squirm a bit against Jason’s side.
Jason kissed his hairline, must notice Luke’s wriggling because he let his hand drift lower back down to Luke’s buttocks. He kneads his hand into the muscle and Luke cries out, hips shooting forward into Jason as though he had been shocked.
Luke could feel Jason’s warm chuckle in response vibrating all through his chest.
Luke was so aroused he was certain in this moment that if he does not touch his own cock he would surely die.
He slides his hand down between their bodies but before it gets there Jason’s hand was on his wrist, stopping him, strong fingers curling warm against the bone.
“J-Jason, I need—”
“I know what you need, love. I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to give you something so much better than you could possibly imagine.”
Luke whimpers in response to this.
Jason kissed his fingers. “I know. I promise it was going to be worth it. Sit up for me. I need you on your back again.”
Luke lifts himself partway off of Jason, but his body was trembling so hard he could scarcely complete the movement.
Jason’s strong hands reach out to help him, and in one smooth motion, Jason was sitting up, hands on Luke’s shoulders, guiding him back down against the bed.
Luke licks his lips, hips jerking, dizzy with need. He wanted to reach down and touch himself but he knew what Jason would say if he does so he clenched his fingers into fists to stop himself.
“Good. Oh, look at you, you’re being so good.” Jason’s voice was a low purr of approval as he bends over Luke’s body, and Luke writhes with pleasure at the sound of it.
Jason drops his head to place a kiss on the skin of Luke’s belly—close-mouthed, so innocent, but Luke cannot stand it, any touch from Jason at this point might be the end of him. He pushes a fist up to his mouth, biting at his fingers, whimpering around them.
“I know, I know,” Jason breathed, voice low and soothing, mouth moving now to place a kiss on the bone of Luke’s hip.
Luke’s hips jerk in response. He cannot take much more of this. He reaches down to grip at Jason’s shoulders in supplication, his voice breaking. “Jason…”
“Yes, yes, you’re right. I won’t be able to drag this out as long as I might like. That would just be cruel.”
Jason’s mouth had moved again and now, oh god, now—where was it going? What was it doing? What does Jason think he was doing? His mouth had moved along Luke’s hip and was hovering above the hair at Luke’s groin.
Jason pressed his face in against the base of Luke’s cock and inhales, and no, Luke cannot take it—his fingers must be leaving bruises on Jason’s shoulders, his nails biting half-moons into Jason’s flesh—because Jason’s mouth was right there against the base of him, and Jason cannot be thinking—? He cannot be thinking of…
“J—Jason, what were you—?”
Jason looked up at Luke, his blue eyes glittering and bright, his teeth stretched wide in the most lascivious grin Luke had ever seen.
“You could put your hands on my head if you like.”
“Jason, what—”
And then all thought leaves him as Jason leaned down and took the head of Luke’s cock into his mouth.
Jason’s mouth, Jason’s mouth was around his cock—his cock was in Jason’s mouth. Jason’s beautif
ul, incredible, singing, smiling mouth was currently folded warm and wet around Luke’s cock.
The thought of it alone would be enough to blow the last of Luke’s self-restraint to bits—so obscene! Jason’s mouth! On him, around him—his mouth! But nothing, nothing on earth could have prepared Luke for the feel of it.
Not only was it hot and wet and velvety soft, but Jason’s tongue, oh god Jason’s tongue was licking the skin around the head, and Luke knew in that moment, that this act would be the death of him because there was no way that he could survive this.
He took Jason’s advice without thinking, blindly reaching out to move his hands from Jason’s shoulders to his head, fingers grasping at the short strands of hair, too short for him to grip properly but so soft, and Luke realizes in a delirious jolt of disappointment and amazement that he had never felt Jason’s hair before this moment—every moment of his life before this suddenly making itself known to him as a complete waste—and it felt as lovely as it looked, as though he could feel the sunny brightness of it shimmering against his fingertips.
Jason’s hair in Luke’s hands was almost enough to finish him—he could feel the tightness in his belly and his loins, gathering like a spring that was about to uncoil, pulling and pulling until he felt as though he cannot bear another second. It as though every part of his body was somehow connected to his cock in this moment; every slight shift of Jason’s mouth against him sends minute currents of pleasure rippling through him, as though his body was crisscrossed with a network of the finest threads, all culminating in the place where Jason’s mouth was sliding warm and wet around him.
It was the downward slid of Jason’s mouth that finally breaks him, slipping down Luke’s cock an infinitesimal distance, sucking lightly. Every muscle in his body draws tight, his hips thrusting up off the bed. The feel of it, the slick hollows of Jason’s mouth enveloping him, cheeks and tongue curling close to enfold the heart of his desire, was what sends the first wave of pleasure crashing through him. But it was also the realization that one of Jason’s hands was curled around the base of his cock, fingers nestled in the dark curls, his other hand, hot on Luke’s hip, pushing him back down against the bed, and most of all the knowledge that this was Jason—Jason’s mouth around him—made desperately real by the feeling of Jason’s hair under his hands as fine as sunlight.
The fragile cords holding Luke’s body together seem to break apart, and distantly he was aware that he was crying out, his body drawing up and rising, rising; in spite of the pressure of Jason’s strong hand on his hip, he felt as though he would go on rising forever, pleasure unfolding from him in continually renewing waves—like the ocean, Luke thinks in a haze of bliss, like the never ending pounding of the surf against the side of the ship, surging, powerful, carrying him away in a rush of foam and salt spray.
He could still feel Jason’s mouth around him, the movements of his cheeks and tongue suggesting to Luke that he was swallowing down each burst of Luke’s pleasure as it issues from him, and that thought alone—Jason was drinking down a part of Luke—causes a renewed tide of feeling to rip through him, driving him harder up against Jason with a ragged gasp.
He was breathing so hard he cannot catch his breath, gasping for air as though he had been underwater and his head had only just broken the surface.
Minutes seem to pass before Luke’s body sinks back down against the mattress, and it was the soft feeling of Jason’s mouth sliding off of him that causes Luke to open his eyes, to become aware that his body was shuddering, his breath still coming impossibly fast as though he had run a great distance.
Jason’s hands were smoothing down Luke’s flanks. He leaned in to press a kiss to Luke’s sweat-dampened cheek, his voice as gentle as his hands. “Breathe, my love. You have to breathe for me now. Take a deep breath.”
Luke looked up at Jason with wide, panicked eyes, felt the heaving motion of his own chest under Jason’s warm palms.
“Do it with me now—in.” Luke watched Jason and does as he said, drawing a long, slow breath into his lungs. “And out.”
Luke breathed out with Jason, before drawing in another long breath. He repeated the motion several times. Gradually he felt his hammering heart begin to slow down.
“Better?”
Luke nods.
Jason reaches down to push the sweat-soaked hair off of Luke’s brow, his eyes full of tenderness and something else, something that seemed to spark like a living flame at the center of each iris.
“Jason.” Luke’s voice was a low rasp.
“Yes, my love?”
“What you just did…that was…”
Luke shook his head. He wanted to convey to Jason what it meant to him, but there were no words to describe the feeling.
Jason bends down to kiss his temple and Luke could feel his smile in the curve of his lips. “I’m glad you liked it. I was hoping it might have a positive effect on you, but I must say, it went over even better than I had hoped.”
When Jason sits back, his eyes were full of the same bright fondness, his hand still soft in Luke’s hair. “I keep thinking, ‘This, this was Luke at his most beautiful,’ and then, I see a new side of you, and I have to amend that thought. It kept happening, so I think it was safe to say that you were simply growing more beautiful every moment.”
Luke flushes hot at Jason’s words. His voice was shy. “You think I’m beautiful now?”
Luke felt like a sponge that had just been wrung out—his body limp, his hair damp with sweat. He was still shaking lightly from the effects of his orgasm; he felt weak, fragile.
Jason must see his weariness in his face because he smoothes a thumb over the back of Luke’s hand, and said, “I think it was time we got cleaned up.”
Luke nods, sighing as Jason pulled his hand away, and climbs from the bed, his movements as graceful and efficient as ever.
Luke watched with sleepy contentment as Jason pours water from the pitcher on his desk into the pewter basin, his eyes moving appreciatively over the strong lines in the backs of Jason’s bare thighs and over the muscular curves of his buttocks. Jason should never be allowed to wear clothes again, Luke thinks sleepily as he reaches for the towel nearby, the muscles in his back leaping to vivid life under the soft touch of the candlelight.
This was not the first time Luke had seen Jason’s naked back, but it was the first time he had had a chance to study it in detail up close, and for the first time, he sees all the little scars crisscrossing the golden flesh, some of them small and very fine, but others, deeper, longer, the evidence of much more grievous wounds. Luke wonders with a feeling of growing horror what might have caused them all.
There was one that was worse than all the others, a deep knot of scarred-over flesh on Jason’s left shoulder, and Luke felt a tightening in his belly at the sight of it. Jason said he was wounded in the war against the French, that was what finally got him sent home—the scar on his shoulder must be the result of that wound.
Jason sets the basin on the chair by Luke’s bed, and dips the towel in it, wringing it out before he turns toward Luke to wipe the stickiness from his belly.
“What was it?” Jason asked, seeing Luke’s face.
“Your back,” Luke said, his voice soft. “So many scars.”
Jason’s expression went hard. “Yes.”
“The one on your shoulder it—was that the wound that took you out of commission?”
Jason’s hands were gentle as he wipes Luke clean, but his face was still hard and distant. “Yes.”
Luke’s voice shrinks with fear. “What about all the others?”
Jason turns to wring the cloth out over the basin, and Luke thinks he wrings it harder than he normally might—the whiteness of his knuckles evidence of the pressure. Luke cannot see Jason’s face from where he had standing and Jason was quiet for several moments as he cleans himself briskly and efficiently.
When he turns back around, his face was softer but the hard look in his eyes remains. “
I’ll tell you someday. Not right now.”
“Alright,” Luke said with a sinking feeling, now regretting that he ever asked. He wishes he could take back the question.
Jason bends over Luke’s desk to blow the dying candle out. As he had straightening up, a loud crash sounds from beyond the door. Jason’s body tenses in response, immediately poised for action, but he relaxed as several loud and slurring voices follow the noise. It was the sound of several drunken passengers descending the stairs from the upper deck, returning at last from the party to their cabins.
The disruption breaks the uneasiness of the moment, and as Jason climbs back onto the bed and leaned over Luke to blow out the candle on the wall, in the moment before the flame went out, Luke sees a smile on his face.
Chapter Seventeen
He remembers:
Luke had reached out to them all so many times. Aramis and Porthos have responded, opening their pack to Luke and taking him in. But Jason had rebuffed him at every turn. Luke hasn’t stopped trying. But he had stopped expecting anything to ever change.
One day Luke would stop trying. Jason had been reminding himself of this nearly daily for the past eleven months. He had been looking forward to it, in fact. Anticipating it as some sort of triumph.
How utterly foolish he had been. All Jason had ever been going to accomplish with his continual rejection was to turn Luke into someone just like him: bitter, alone, and old before his time. When instead Jason could have opened his arms and his heart and let them both come alive.
“I’m so sorry,” Jason said again. He strokes down Luke’s flank again, petting, and Luke uncurls slightly. Jason wraps Luke up in his arms and let himself accept the feel of the pliant body against his own.
If it were only Jason who felt this way, he’d accept the new ache as the price of Luke’s eventual happiness elsewhere, and gladly. Jason carries so many ghosts already; what’s one more? But Luke must not suffer unnecessarily. Perhaps their courting would come to nothing – perhaps Luke would find out that having was not, after all, so pleasant a thing as wanting – but Jason could no longer make that decision alone.