by BA Tortuga
His eyes were fastened on Max’s mouth, cock throbbing. “I’m next door. Third floor. Green door. Is the food ready yet?”
Max looked, shook his head, just biting that pretty lower lip. “No.”
“Damn.” He scooted closer. “Do I have to wait?”
“I don’t think… damn. I mean….” Stuttering to a stop, Max looked around, grabbed his hand, and pulled him back into a shadowy corner. “No.”
“Oh. Good.” He pushed close, leaning up and sliding his tongue along Max’s bottom lip. Oh. Oh yeah. He liked that.
A sigh met him, a light puff of warm air, and then Max bent to press against him, lips covering his.
His hand rubbed over the back of Max’s head, lips parting just like that, letting Max’s tongue in.
The kiss went deep, Max tasting him thoroughly, one hand on his waist to hold him close. The man tasted like beer and spice, warm and good.
He dragged his tongue against Max’s, tongue stud nudging in all the right ways.
“Mmm.” The sound vibrated against him, Max just purring. They turned their heads, finding an even better angle, Max bumping against him lightly.
“Now, ragazzi. What would Nonna say?” Mama Leone was laughing, holding out bags of food and wine.
Max stepped back, and if the man blushed any harder he was going to combust. It was even cuter than the down-home sayings.
“She’d say I was lucky.” He grinned, licked his lips happily.
Max took the wine before he put his hat back on and reached for Morgan’s hand, nodding at the signora. “Ma’am.”
Mama’s face lit up, and she laughed, the merry sound following them back out into the rain. They headed up and up, the bright green door cheery, waiting for them.
He unlocked the door and ushered them in, the scent of roses and sandalwood and soap familiar and homey.
Max just stopped in the middle of the room and did a full turn around. “It’s great. Really you.”
Morgan nodded, smiled. It was mismatched and bright and goofy and comfortable and cluttered and filled with interesting foods and things and smells.
And Max looked at once out of place and right at home. The man set his hat aside, put the wine on the table carefully, took the food from him and set it down too. Then grabbed him and kissed him again.
He pushed right into Max’s heat, shrugging off his coat before winding his arms around Max’s neck.
That rumbly purr came again, Max licking his lips before that hot tongue slipped right in, fucking his mouth.
Oh man. Why hadn’t they done this before? He groaned, hips rocking in time with the thrusts of their tongues.
Max grabbed his ass, lifted him right up to his toes, kissing him so hard it felt like drinking something too hot, too fast. Scalding.
Groaning, he just drank deeper, spinning with the heat they built up between them, fingers rubbing that fascinating, smooth skin.
Finally they had to breathe, and Max leaned against him, forehead to forehead. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” He unbuttoned Max’s coat, pushed it off, hands sliding over the strong arms.
“We should eat.” Spinning away, Max took the coat and tossed it aside, then grabbed the food and headed for a clump of pillows in the middle of the bed.
Morgan chuckled and took off his shoes, his damp sweater, pulled two wineglasses and a corkscrew from a cabinet. His hair was wet, and he let it down as he settled, then snagged an olive and nibbled.
Max wrestled the wine open a lot faster than he could have and poured them each a glass, then handed him one and reached for an artichoke heart. The look on Max’s face when he tried the wine almost made up for the lack of kisses. “Oh. This is good.”
“Yeah. Decadent and sweet.” His fingers found a cube of cheese, let it melt in his mouth. Yum.
Max nodded, eyes closing as he took another sip. “It is like velvet. Almost heavy but stops just short.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He scooted a little closer, eyes on Max’s lips. “I bet it tastes amazing off your skin.”
“You think? I bet it would taste good on you too.” There was that twinkle again. The “oh yummy” look. Max took a sip and leaned to him, mouth opening on his.
He groaned, pushing a little closer, tongue easing in to taste, to lap at the sweet wine.
One of Max’s hands slid up his back, resting right between his shoulder blades. The wine trickled into his mouth, the flavor of Max’s mouth following.
Shivers started in the pit of his stomach, a heat slowly building inside him that threatened to be huge.
“So much better.” Every last drop was licked away before Max sat back to get a cube of bread, crusty and flavored with Parmesan, and feed it to him gently.
He nibbled and ate, lips brushing those callused fingertips, fingers stroking the inside of Max’s wrist. Then he found a bit of eggplant wrapped in prosciutto, offered it to those sweet lips.
Max took it, tongue rubbing over his thumb as the morsel disappeared. Those funny, too-light eyes had gone dark again, pupils dilated as Max stared at him, as Max bent to suck at the rise of skin at the base of his palm.
“Oh.” His own eyes rolled, and his teeth sank into his bottom lip, hips rocking.
“Mmm-hmm.” They toppled, Max pulling him alongside and pressing against him. He felt like a pasha or something. Decadent. Another shared glass of wine cleared their palates, and Max fed them both some cheese, rich and creamy.
Then he painted Max’s lips with the salt and oil from a kalamata, leaning in to lap them clean before repeating the action.
“Yeah.” Max licked his lips, at the olive as he passed it over again. “Good.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He held the olive between his teeth and offered it over to share, fingers reaching for the wine.
They both bit down on the olive, Max’s lips moving against his as they chewed.
He grinned, leaning so their noses rubbed together, the scent of olive and grape and basil and them heady.
“Best antipasto I’ve ever had. And no worries about garlic breath offending.” Max grinned back, every too-long eyelash and dark beard whisker plain this close up.
Morgan chuckled, ate an almond, then fed one to Max. “I think more meals should be eaten like this.”
“Oh, absolutely. Half the world would be less bugnuts crazy if they just ate off someone else’s skin once in a while.”
“At least half. Mmm… you would taste good with honey and cinnamon….”
“Oh. Maybe for breakfast. I make a mean biscuit.” They laughed together, Max rolling a little and grabbing the takeout carton, then moving it closer and feeding them both bits of tomato and cheese, speckled with basil leaves.
His fingertips and lips and tongue tingled, the sips of wine making the very tip of his nose numb. He licked a drop of olive oil from the corner of Max’s mouth, humming happily.
“God.” Max blinked, lashes brushing his cheek. “This is really good wine. And you’re even better.”
His fingers dipped into those sweet lips, exploring as he smiled. “We taste good together.”
“Mmm.” That purr was becoming necessary, shooting right down his spine to his balls. Max sucked on his fingers, tongue sliding between them.
He arched at that, grinding them together, hungry for Max now, for that salt-sweet skin. He started working their clothes open and off with his free hand, eyes fastened on Max’s.
After moving the wine and food out of reach, Max helped him, hands sliding over him to brush the cloth away.
Morgan leaned up on his knees, unbuttoned Max’s jeans, and pulled them over the lean hips. He grabbed the bottle of wine, took a deep swig, and then wrapped his lips around Max’s cock, tasting grape and need and salt all together.
“Fuck! Morgan.” His name sounded right on Max’s lips. Max felt solid under him, and the deep flavor of the wine mixed perfectly with the dark salt of Max’s skin.
Sucking until the bite of the wine was gone, Morgan lifted his
head, smiling, stroking Max’s belly with his chin.
“Damn.” Max leaned up on his elbows, smiling down at him, eyes drugged, dazed. “That was… damn. Do it again?”
“I can so do that.” He took another long drink, head swimming just a little, then dropped his mouth back around Max’s prick.
Arching up, Max rocked into his mouth, thighs rising on either side of his head. Those long muscles were hard and tight, Max’s cock salty and rich. Max lifted his hair, fingers drifting over his scalp.
He groaned, humming around Max, fingers skating along soft inner thighs to find Max’s balls, then rolling and squeezing.
That made Max moan, made him shake under Morgan. Max’s sac tightened under his hand, pulled up, slick drops flowing into his mouth from Max’s cock.
Oh, satin to mingle with the grape’s velvet. Yes. More.
He got more, Max panting, bucking up, begging with caressing hands and rough noises.
He lifted away for one more drink, one more mix of grape and cock.
He didn’t get it. Max jerked him up, took a kiss that made his already spinning head go crazy. It got even more wild as Max turned them, driving down on top of him, cock grinding against him.
“Yeah. Fuck. Please.” He tugged Max closer, cock rasping against his slacks.
“Want your skin.” They fought for a minute, Max trying to shift away, him trying to get closer. Finally, Max won, getting them separated just long enough to get Morgan’s clothes off before falling back to him, licking his throat, cock hard and wet in the hollow of his hip.
“Uhn.” He licked Max’s ear, tongue stud sliding, heated.
“Oh. Your… yeah.” Max reached between them and down, lifted his balls and rolled, found his piercing.
He nodded, spreading for that touch, hand tugging Max closer as he wordlessly begged for more. “Uh-huh.”
“You make me crazy.” Yeah. Oh yeah. Max bit him, right on his chest, right above his nipple. Hard enough to bruise.
He arched, shoving hard against that hand between his legs, the entire fucking room spinning madly. “More.”
They kissed again, Max taking his mouth like he was more hungry for Morgan than anything else in the world. Yeah. Made him light-headed, made his heart pound. Max was just making these noises, little moans and groans, licking and biting.
They began to rut, his tongue fucking Max’s lips in time with their bodies.
Just about the time little black spots appeared before his eyes, Max broke the kiss, crying out, hand squeezing his cock as Max shot against his thigh.
“Fuck yes!” He bucked, gasping as he came hard.
Max collapsed against him, panting, sweaty, and covered in come. And laughing. “Damn. We need more wine.”
He giggled, nodding. “Yes.”
“You make things fun again.” Max shot him a look, serious as anything, reaching out to stroke his cheek.
“All work and no play makes us old, cowboy.” He nuzzled into the touch.
“You know it. And all I’ve done lately is work.” Sighing, Max rolled and grabbed the wine and food before coming back to settle against him. “It sure ain’t like me to run off, but I’m tempted this time.”
“Yeah? Where to?” He loved escaping, lived for it. “Mountains? Beaches? Forests? Tibet? Fiji?”
“I was thinking Rio.” Max’s voice went dreamy. “I love the food. And the weather.”
“Ooh. Rio. I have a house there. You can see the water. It’s in Santa Teresa, overlooking the bay.” It was a pretty little place, smack dab in the art district.
“Yeah?” Pulling back, Max glanced at him again, this time looking… hopeful. “I can make feijoada.”
“Ooh… black beans are gifts from the gods. I know how to fix caipirinha, so we’d be set.” His mouth was watering already, the thought of the bean stew and the sweet-tart lime cocktail together.
“I could just write Morrie’s folks their quarterly check and go. Just for a bit. I have a good lawyer here.”
“All it would take is a phone call to get the kitchen filled and the rooms aired out.” He wasn’t pushing. They’d only met twice. He wasn’t….
Oh, yes he was.
Happily.
Max was… delicious.
“I….” For a minute he was afraid Max would say no, that long body stiff against his, obviously battling doubts. “Would you? Really?”
“I would. Really.” He nodded, then tilted his head. “Of course, you don’t have any reason to believe me, huh?”
He could be anybody.
Which was, sort of, a wicked fun idea….
“You’ve got no reason to believe I didn’t just kill some old English blighter and move into his home. We’re even, huh?” Max’s stomach growled, and the man sat up, reached for the cheese and bread. “I want to go. With you.”
He nodded, excited. He’d call James in the morning and arrange everything. “When can you go?”
“I’d have to go back, pack a few things, write a few checks. Day after tomorrow.”
“Plenty of time.” He grinned, drawing circles on Max’s belly. “We can barbecue and make love for hours and watch all the beautiful people being beautiful.”
“We can. And just… oh hey, we could go out for a few days too, maybe camp some.” God, the man was cute, bouncing that way, totally unconcerned with his nakedness.
“You’ll have to show me how. I never have. Well, unless the night on a park bench in Milan counts.” He grinned, leaning to lick one nipple. “It was research.”
Laughing, gasping, Max touched him, hand sliding through his hair. “I’ve spent more time out than I have in. I’m not sure what to do with four walls all the time.”
“Paint them.” He nibbled a little. Oh, yum.
“Yeah… I mean… oh. Damn.” That thick cock was twitching, rising again.
“I like your nipples. I like tasting you.” He took one between his teeth, rolled it, flicked the tip with his tongue.
“I like you liking them.” Stroking, petting his neck, Max held him close, moved him across to the other nipple.
“Mmm….” Oh, this cowboy was too tasty for words. He licked and sucked, fingers tracing ribs and abs before tangling in the thick curls above that heavy cock.
Max dipped a finger in the wine, ran it along over his cock, leaving a trail for him.
“Mmm….” Morgan slid down, following that wet path.
“Fuck, we smell good together.” The whole room smelled like sex, earthy and deep, mixing with the pungent aromas of Italian food.
Yeah. He could only imagine how they’d smell in Rio, the heat and the sun and the spices redolent in the air, the gauze curtains of his house flowing.
“Damn. What you do… did I mention I like it?” He got a wild grin, Max flowing, moving, just giving him what he needed.
“Uh-huh.” He bit Max’s bottom lip, almost crowing with the pleasure.
“Uhn. ’Kay.” After that, Max kinda quit talking, started kissing and licking and biting instead.
They rolled together, pushing up and into each other, low moans filling the night air. The bed creaked as they shifted on the sheets.
Their skin got damp, slick, their breath humid, so warm. Max held him, thrust against him, cock skating along his skin. Clever fingers found his nipples, twisted the rings there, pulled them until he wanted to scream.
Finally he did, threw his head back and cried out, hips pumping furiously as heat poured out of him. He could hear himself, talking and jabbering and promising, but he couldn’t make the words out, wasn’t completely sure he wanted to.
Max held on to him, watched him, eyes hot and dark, the gold swallowed up by the brown. Then Max let loose, pulling him down hard, hips pumping, cock jerking wildly against his skin. “Oh! Oh, Morgan.”
“Shit, yeah. Come on, cowboy.” He needed this, needed to have their smells in the air and the sheets.
“Shit!” So hot, so rich. Max’s spunk joined his on their bellies, that
big body shaking under his.
Morgan groaned, cuddling in with a soft sigh. “So good.”
“Amazing.” Yeah, especially when Max just sorta… surrounded him like that, curling right up with him in the middle. Their breathing slowed, the breeze from outside cooling them down.
His cheek was on Max’s arm, and he turned, nuzzling, kissing just a little, listening to the sounds of the city outside their window.
“I’m glad we came.” It was almost a whisper, almost lost, but he heard it.
Morgan nodded, humming happily. Him too. Oh, him too.
Chapter Three
THEY TOOK the cable car up to Sugarloaf to see the city from above. They went to the Paço Imperial to see the history exhibits, and Max dragged Morgan to a gem show that just happened to be running. They hit the student district so Morgan could see where Max usually stayed, and yeah, it was the low-rent district compared to Morgan’s place, but Max still loved the liveliness of it. Then they went to the market to get about fifty kinds of pork and a huge mass of black beans for Max to cook them feijoada.
Once the beans were soaking, they hit the beach. It was perfect; late afternoon was just waning, and while the humidity hit them like a thick blanket, the air was starting to cool.
Morgan was stretched out in this odd, gauzy… thing, black Speedo visible through the cloth. It should have seemed girly and odd, but Morgan didn’t seem self-conscious about it, carried it off like it was perfectly reasonable.
Hell, the Speedo should’ve seemed unreasonable to him, as he wore clam diggers. Morgan looked good in it, though, so Max wasn’t gonna complain. Now that guy over there in the buttfloss with the hairy back? Oh man. Whenever Max started thinking he might embarrass himself looking at Morgan, all he had to do was look over there, and ping! Flatter than an inner tube going three rounds with a goathead.
Morgan’s hair was down. Thin fingers drawing patterns in the sand, the man looked decadent. Like there should be oiled men fanning him, feeding him grapes.
Too bad Max wasn’t about to oil himself up and fan anyone. At least not in public. If Morgan asked him to do it in private…. “So are you having a good time?”
Morgan smiled over, nodded. “I am. I love the way the heat just bakes your bones, feels good.”