by Willa Okati
“Will you make me wait all the night long?” he asked hoarsely, partially hoping the answer was yes, and partly praying to the sweet God and Goddess that the answer would be no.
“Mmm. Maybe.” Laurence squeezed once, just once, letting Keelan know who fancied himself in charge. “Would you like it if it I did? Just kept you here, not letting you come for hours ... and hours ...”
Keelan swore silently. By the Lord and Lady, this man could be an elf. He certainly knew how to play the games. “Surely you won’t,” he coaxed, reaching up to stroke down Laurence’s bare arm, glistening with sweat along the cords of muscles. “You’ll take pity on me, won’t you?”
“Depends.” Laurence was suddenly kneading the base of Keelan’s cock in a death grip. “Do you think you’ve earned the right to come?”
Oho, what is this? A taste of dominance and submission? Keelan all but wriggled in pleasure. He loved a good game of “master and slave” -- although, he had to admit, he had always been the top in such scenarios. He had to wonder, though, at how alluring he found the prospect of being the bottom, and went with the impulse.
“I’ve been a very good boy, Laurence.”
“Shut up,” Laurence said idly, not relaxing his grip. “I think you’ve been bad. You dragged me off into a room heaven knows where in Amour Magique and ravished my body. Not that I minded, but I think you need a suitable punishment. Now, I just have to think ...”
Keelan writhed again -- or would have if he hadn’t been pinned by the hand clasping his cock. Laurence ran his fingers across the weeping tip, swirling Keelan’s own come around the crown and length of him.
“It’s been years,” Laurence said quietly, almost too low for Keelan to hear. Perhaps he had meant for his speech to go unnoticed. “And now ...” His hand suddenly let go of Keelan’s cock, and he began to wrestle with the elf. Startled, Keelan allowed himself to be tumbled to and fro, the world jostling around him until he found himself face down over Laurence’s lap, his cock nestled against Laurence’s and his ass in the air.
Fingers, cruel in their delicacy, stroked down the cleft of his buttocks. Laurence whispered fiercely to him, “If I had another condom, I’d come inside you, fuck you so hard and deep you wouldn’t be able to think of anything but my cock. But poor me, I didn’t come prepared. That’s not my fault -- I didn’t set out tonight planning to get laid. You, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were after, and you didn’t bring anything except lubricant. I think you deserve a little punishment for your lack of foresight, don’t you?”
Keelan stopped himself from moving eagerly with anticipation. All the same, just as he’d hoped, Laurence’s hand came down with a hard smack! on his buttocks, stinging with just the right amount of pain and pleasure.
“What do you say?” Laurence’s voice was oddly calm except for the slightest tremble, as if he couldn’t believe he was being so bold.
Keelan pretended meekness. “I apologize, Laurence.”
“Not good enough.” Smack. “What do you say now?”
Keelan couldn’t stop himself from moving in pleasure and found that he could rub his aching cock against Laurence’s hard thigh. Laurence didn’t object, so he continued as he’d begun, stroking himself off bit by slow bit. “I’m sorry,” he ventured.
“Still not enough.” Smack.
Keelan tried again. “I should have known better.” And, hell’s bells, he should have. A mortal would want to be cautious about such things as spreading or passing disease. If he’d had time to think things through, he would have made a stop in one of Amour Magique’s bathrooms and filled his pockets with the rubbers, for make no mistake, he didn’t intend, by the slightest bit, to let the man go before daybreak.
No, he planned to play all night with the oh-so-delicious Laurence, Black Malice and her bet notwithstanding. The mortal was turning out to be far too much fun.
“I should have come prepared,” he ventured, hoping for another slap across the ass. He was rewarded by a particularly hard one, a blow that left him stinging in the most pleasurable sort of way.
“I don’t think you’re really sorry,” Laurence said raggedly, as if struggling to breathe. Keelan realized that touching him must have brought Laurence’s own cock back to life, and as he squirmed, then touched hard flesh, he knew it was so. Oh, this gets better and better! Deliberately changing his angle, he rubbed against Laurence’s cock, the cross-ways friction causing the man to gasp out loud.
Laurence brought his hand down again. “You are a wicked man. You tempted and teased me into being here.” A volley of slaps followed his declaration of conviction, each one harder than the last, until Keelan was sure his ass would bear fingerprint-shaped bruises. As for himself, he humped against Laurence harder and harder, feeling the pulses beat in both their erections, knowing his lover would be leaking as he himself was. Laurence slapped him one last time, then asked, “Why did you choose me? Tell the truth, Keelan.”
For a moment, Keelan froze, then went on, voice silky-smooth. “Because you looked so edible. Because I looked and saw you, all strawberries and cream, just waiting to be eaten.”
“Bull. There are hundreds and hundreds of men better-looking than me in Amour Magique, and none of them are in the closet the way I am.” Laurence punctuated each of his sentences with a spank. “Tell the truth --” He gasped as Keelan wickedly stroked hard against him. “Truth, Keelan, truth.”
Keelan wiggled, not only from pleasure, but out of discomfort as well. He couldn’t tell Laurence the truth -- the man would get up and demand more answers, there would be a fight, and he’d be denied an orgasm, as well as the chance to know his partner better. He hadn’t had such a good time in ages, not since a priest in the fifteenth century of earth-time who’d taught him the value of being on his knees.
He wasn’t certain when the change had come about in his way of thinking. This had all begun as a game, a bet, a wager. A dare taken up when Laurence’s face was nothing more than a sweet temptation on a tarot card. But now things were ... different. He seemed to care about what Laurence thought and felt, and if he were to tell the truth, then he’d fallen for the mortal. Him, an elf, in love with a human! Eremand and Nerys would laugh themselves sick, but there you had it.
And he had better come up with something to say. He’d be as honest as he could.
“I wanted you,” he said simply. “Needed you. Craved you. Ah, God and Goddess, don’t stop! You were my choice from the second I laid eyes on you. I swear, Laurence, it’s the truth.”
“Do you? Do you swear?” Laurence breathed heavily, struggling for air. “You wanted me, and nobody else?”
Keelan stretched and bowed, praying that he’d be allowed to come soon. “Only you,” he whispered. “Please, Laurence, please.”
His world flipped and spun again, until he found himself lying on top of Laurence, their chests pressed together. Laurence thrust up with an impossibly hard cock, and Keelan thrust down. They found their rhythm almost immediately, falling into the pulse-beat of Under Hill’s living, breathing atmosphere, much like that of Amour Magique. Laurence reached up to grasp Keelan’s ass cheeks, gripping them hard as they rode together, cocks against bellies, both growing ever more slippery.
“Want you,” Keelan heard himself babbling, the worlds tumbling out of his mouth, chanting Laurence’s name over and over again. “More. More, more, more!”
Laurence silenced him with a kiss -- a hard and punishing one that crushed their lips together, knocking their teeth against one another -- then pushed his tongue into Keelan’s mouth. Keelan was glad to receive it, eagerly seizing upon it, twining it around, then tugging and sucking on the appendage, all the while as Laurence thrust between his lips again and again, matching the rhythm of his slender hips.
Keelan would have been happy for that kiss to go on for hours, their mouths slanted hungrily across one another’s, but alas, all good things eventually came to an end. Laurence jerked away and started cursing, painting the ai
r with the proper blue streak of a man who was about to come like a freight train, letting Keelan know he had almost reached his pinnacle. Keelan felt Laurence’s balls like hot, hard knots between his own legs, and writhed with more force yet, startling himself when the first blast hit his own body. He was off. Up, up, and away!
And, oh, but it was worth composing poems about to be read in the finest circles of the Faerie court. When his orgasm struck, Keelan arched up, shouting out he knew not what in his triumph, his cock loosing a flood of seed between their bodies. Laurence’s face twisted in the beautiful ugliness of peaking and he came as well, his come mingling with Keelan’s, spout after spout of the sticky fluid. He cried out as if in pain, at which Keelan would not have wondered -- three times in one night was a lot, especially if one had gone a long time without.
Though he found it funny and hard to imagine Laurence not being the object of everyone’s attentions.
When their members ceased pulsing between them, Laurence and Keelan were both breathing heavily, dragging air into hard-working lungs, Keelan all but writhing with pleasure over the stinging of his ass and the boneless, lazy glow of orgasm.
Then, once again, he found himself being flipped and turned. He landed on his back this time and discovered Laurence glaring down at him.
“Something’s up here, and I don’t like it one bit.” His voice was a far cry from being pleased. “Don’t try to lie.”
Keelan blinked in surprise. “Lie? I -- when?”
“You called out someone else’s name when you came. Norris? Nerris? And you distinctly said, Watch this, Black Malice.”
“Oh.” Keelan tried to glance away, but Laurence seized his face and made the elf look directly at him. “I can explain, Laurence, truly.”
“Well, then, you’d better start.” Laurence sat up, pinning Keelan in place with his weight on the elf’s legs. He folded his arms. “How about you get going right now? Oh, and while you’re at it, explain to me just how you ‘won the bet,’ and what kind of bet we’re talking about.”
Keelan closed his eyes and thought again, Oh, shit. I’m really in for it now, aren’t I?
Chapter Five
Kneeling above the pale man in all his perfection -- too damn perfect to be real -- Laurence knew, deep down, that he’d somehow waded into a pool full of alligators. Keelan had some sharp teeth on him, and he’d managed to grab onto Laurence without his noticing, but by God he’d release him now or Laurence would know the answer why.
“I’ve had enough fun and games,” he said abruptly, letting go of Keelan and standing up. “I want my pants, my shirt, and I want out of here, in that order. Now, are you going to help me out, or just sit there looking way too fucking gorgeous for your own good all night long?”
Keelan actually had the balls to raise himself on his elbows and cock an eyebrow, obviously knowing he looked like a gay man’s wet dream with come splattered over his torso and his penis lying heavy between his leg. “So you think I’m gorgeous, do you?”
Laurence narrowed his eyes. Keelan might have thought he was a good con artist, but come on, it was time to get real. Laurence taught fifth grade. He’d seen it all, heard it all, and had undergone all the best attempts to fool him. Keelan had nothing on preteens for creatively dodging bullets -- and he could tell that the man was swerving for all he was worth.
“Clothes,” he repeated, slowly, as if Keelan were stupid. “Door. Now.”
Keelan shifted a bit. He might even have squirmed. “Ah. Yes. You see, there’s a bit of a problem with what you’re asking for.”
“Such as?”
A sheepish look. “I don’t know where your clothes landed.”
Laurence gave Keelan his “yeah, sure, whatever” once-over that he’d perfected in front of the classroom. “Try again. I’m pretty sure a guy like you knows how to keep track of everything.”
“Not quite everything. I haven’t swayed you entirely to my cause.”
“Pants,” Laurence replied flatly. “I want my clothes. If you won’t show me, then I’ll go hunting myself. And while I’m doing that, you tell me who Norris and Black Malice are.” He folded his arms across his bare chest, feeling more than a little ridiculous to be nakedly facing down a sex partner after the entertainment was most definitely over.
“Are you sure you’re not just taking your anger out on me?” Keelan asked, shifting into a seated position, legs crossed as easily as a yoga artist -- lotus position without effort. Damn. Laurence had to admire his agility if nothing else. On the other hand, if the man was that limber just sitting, how would he be in bed -- no, no, he had to focus.
Laurence snorted. If he’d been a bull, he would have pawed the ground. “Anger? Are you insane? Aside from your lying to me, anger over what?”
“Denying yourself another chance at this.” Keelan ran a hand down the cobblestone muscles of his abdomen, teasing at each ridge. Laurence had to swallow hard. If he were a weaker man -- and if they had had more condoms -- he’d have pounced right then and there. Keelan knew his way around temptation, all right. He had plenty of conceit, too.
Laurence hissed.” You only wish. I’ve had enough of you, and I’ve been around the block enough times to tell that you’re stalling about something.”
“Stalling? Me? Whatever could I be stalling about?” Keelan gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders and made a great show of being unconcerned. He leaned back, supporting himself on his hands, clearly exposing almost all his best assets. “The night’s still young,” he coaxed. “We could have another go, possibly two. I could drive you out of your mind -- again. Look around, Laurence.” With a wide gesture of his hands, he pointed out the almost natural beauty surrounding them. “Take a good long look, and tell me you want to leave this glade without appreciating its charms a while longer.”
Laurence shook his head. Keelan was definitely avoiding responding, not to mention he still hadn’t answered the question about who Norris and Black Malice were -- and right then and there he wanted no part of it. All the same, he had to hand it to the guy ... excellent distraction technique. Once the landscape had been pointed out, Laurence couldn’t help but inspect it more closely, and he was awed by what he saw.
If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought himself to be inside one of the old stone henges that dotted Ireland and the UK. Tall slabs of some native stone, possibly marble, rose around them in a circle, with several of the top pieces crumbling off or fallen down. On impulse, as well as in the hopes of finding his pants tossed behind one of the stones, Laurence began to walk the circle, touching and admiring the handiwork. Real stone, cool and slick beneath his fingers, yet just a little bit rough where it had been hewn from some quarry.
“This must cost a bundle to rent by the hour,” he tossed over one shoulder.
“It’s mine,” Keelan muttered. “It’s Amour Magique that rents the place from me and my friends when they have need of a glen.”
“Pull the other one, Keelan. It’s got bells on it.” Laurence continued his circuit, feeling the grass soft and springy beneath his bare feet. This was no Astroturf, but living plant matter. Curious, he dug a hole with one toe and found dirt beneath. A small, wailing cry went up and a tiny tremor shook the ground. He jerked back in shock. “What the hell?”
“You damaged the earth.” Keelan sounded sulky. “She doesn’t mind us lying on her, rolling about, crushing blades as we make love, but now you’ve killed some of her grasses, and she protests.”
Laurence rolled his eyes. “Great. I knew there were drugs involved in this little escapade. So what are you on? Grass?” He laughed without humor. “Poppers? Ecstasy?”
“Nothing but the bliss that comes of sexual satisfaction and the thrill of falling in love.”
“Like I said before, Keelan, not buying the party line.” Laurence peered behind one of the stone slabs, intending to take a look around the outer reaches of the circle in search of his clothing, but stopped in his tracks as he got his first good ey
eful at what lay beyond. The grass went on for what looked like miles, rising and falling over natural hills, each blade brightly green in the reflected beams of moonlight.
“Did you hear me?” Keelan demanded, sounding injured. “I said, ‘falling in love.’ Do you think my people do that easily, especially after one -- well, no, two -- well, three -- encounters, on a single night?”
“This isn’t the kind of afterglow I wanted. I think you probably say that to every guy you fuck, just to keep him dangling on the line,” Laurence said absently, scanning the horizon. Good God, the place had an actual horizon. How big was this room? “Gotta have some backups for those rare nights when you can’t score with your pretty face and that silver tongue.”
“You do me too little credit.” Oh, Keelan definitely had his sulk on. Too bad for him someone didn’t believe his carefully crafted lies. “I’ve had many in my bed, and here in the grasses, it’s true, but I’ve never begun to lose my heart. Sex has always been a game until I met you.”
Laurence rolled his eyes. All the same, he felt a niggling worm of doubt creep into his heart. What if Keelan were telling the truth? The sex had been spectacular, no doubt about that at all. Maybe there had been more of the love in making love at the end there, and ... he shook his head. Focus, man, focus!
“Keelan, save your breath.” He glanced up at the “ceiling” and saw that the moon, a silvery disc in the sky, had moved its position from where he’d last seen it. The stars seemed to glitter at him mockingly. “Okay, nice trick,” he said slowly.
“It’s no trick.” Keelan sighed. “Laurence, do you want answers, or do you not? The choice is up to you.”
“What I want is my clothes.” Laurence turned away from the slick stone, cool grasses, sparkling sky, and concentrated on Keelan, still looking far too scrumptious to be real. Long black hair swept his shoulders, his skin appeared as pale as the marble surrounding him, and he was coated in the drying juices of two men coming together. “It’s not fair,” he blurted without thinking.