by Christian, M
Michael was undeniably special. The way his energy resonated with Kieran's made the possibilities dizzying, but were they not to bond, all of those possibilities would slip away. Worse yet, Michael would slip away.
And that Kieran could not bear.
* * * *
Kieran whispers in his dream, "Michael, my love," and dream-Michael smiles, happy to see his golden lover again, to feel his thick muscles, his hairy chest. Michael's cock is hard already, leaking. Michael's cock is always hard and leaking. Kieran murmurs, "Look at you," and drags his hands over Michael's body, making his skin light up, making him shiver with need. "Beautiful."
"Kieran," Michael pants, rubbing himself against Kieran's body, his cock in the hollow of Kieran's groin, slick with sweat, hot. "Been thinking about this all day. About you."
"I know," Kieran says, one hand gathering Michael's wrists together, holding them against the pillows. Michael writhes, and Kieran bites at Michael's stiff little nipple, soothes it with his tongue. "I could feel you all day, wanting me, waiting."
Michael flushes, dark heat staining his cheeks, his throat, his chest. "I couldn't wait," he admits softly, breathlessly. Pre-come drips from his cock. Kieran slicks his fingers in it, slides them back behind Michael's balls. "I needed it, I needed..."
"I know," Kieran murmurs, working his finger inside, kissing Michael's lips, his throat, squeezing his wrists gently. "I needed it, too."
Kieran works in a second finger, Michael's body opening to him easily in the dreamscape, Kieran's cock at his entrance, teasing in between his fingers. "I thought about you," Michael admits, gasping. "When I sucked them, I thought about you."
"I know you did," Kieran says, hears the resonance in his own voice, the desire. "I could feel you with them, wanting me, wanting my touch. Could you feel me, Michael?" Kieran withdraws his fingers and slides his cock into Michael's heat, slow thrusts, deep. Michael's hole clings to his foreskin when he pulls out, and Kieran thrusts back in, harder than he meant to. Michael moans, and Kieran asks him again, "Could you feel me, Michael? Could you feel me with you?"
"Yes," Michael shouts, coming all over his belly, his sheets, his chest. Kieran fucks into him still, prolonging the sensations for both of them, prolonging the dream. "Yes," Michael tells him. "Yes, yes, yes."
* * * *
Michael sleeps peacefully, come drying on his skin. Kieran sprawls beside him, his energy mingling easily with Michael's, creating the reverberations that allow him to take shape. Michael's body tempts his hands, warm to the touch, sun-kissed. The dip of his hipbones, the curve of his ribs. His soft cock nestled against his newly bare skin. Michael makes a pleased, sleepy sound, turns onto his belly, the expanse of his back open to Kieran's attention. He's like a new land each night, and Kieran an explorer, discovering more with every rising moon.
This night he presses his mouth to the sweet spot at the nape of Michael's neck, feels the current jump onto his tongue. Kieran murmurs in his ear, "I am here, my love. I am yours," and Michael moans more urgently, rubs himself against the sheets. He kisses his way from the nape of his neck down the ladder of Michael's spine, the swell of his ass hot under Kiernan's hands. He mouths at the cleft, sucks at the sweet sweat pooling in the open V. Michael gasps, on the verge of waking, but Kieran couldn't stop now even if he wanted to, has to explore that tight furl of muscle, feel the delicate pulse of it jump on his tongue.
He tries to push inside but he can't, he has no saliva, nothing to slick his way outside of the dreamscape but the electric impulses that fill the air between them, still unable to exert enough pressure on his own.
Michael moans, "Kieran," and then "fuck," and then something he can't make out but he hopes is a filthy request only he can fulfill, and then he hears his name again, hears it distinctly. "Kieran," Michael's voice is demanding, possessive, the sound of it shaking all the way through him, igniting his own fierce need.
He sucks at Michael's hole just to hear his name like that again, drags his tongue lower, over the sensitive skin behind his balls, so smooth now, pink and tender. He sucks each sac into his mouth, swirls a finger over Michael's hole, around and around, soft buzz Michael clearly wants more of, shoving himself back and forward and back again. The sounds he makes are intoxicating, pulling Kieran closer and closer until suddenly Kieran solidifies for a moment, truly solidifies, reverberations in the plane gone wild. Michael comes around his finger, thrashing against the sheets.
"Michael," Kiernan murmurs, "Michael, Michael." He slides his hands up Michael's body again, sending sparks along his skin. He is no longer corporeal, but he's still there, still able to touch, to feel. "Michael."
"Kieran," he says, blinking rapidly, unable to believe. "I can almost see you. How's that possible?"
Kieran presses a kiss to his mouth, and Michael licks his lips when Kieran pulls away, reaches for him. His hand hovers around Kieran's outline, shimmery. "I don't understand. You're only in my dreams."
"Not only," Kieran says carefully, closing his eyes as Michael traces over his chest, down his stomach, around the thickness of his cock. When Kieran opens his eyes again Michael has his other hand around his own cock in the same way. It's intoxicating. Kieran says, "That buzz, do you feel it? We're on the same frequency, you and I. It draws me to you, Michael. It's so strong it could hold me here, with you, if you wanted it to."
"Why wouldn't I?" Michael asks. "You're amazing, everything about you. The things you do to me, the way you make me feel. Fuck, look at me. I'm a mess, I can't get enough of you."
"Nor I you." Kieran brings their lips together again, an almost kiss, a promise. Michael leans into the feeling, drags his fingers around Kieran's form, the currents following his touch, humming in between them.
Kieran watches as Michael draws his forefinger across the head of his own dick, lifts the pearl of liquid there, sucks it onto his own mouth. "I don't know what you're saying, but I know want you," Michael says. "I want you all the time, when I'm awake, when I'm asleep. I want you." He strokes himself slowly, his other hand moving around Kieran at the same speed. "I could come again, now, just watching you, just knowing you're watching me. You don't even have to touch me."
"What if I want to touch you?" Kieran asks, and Michael groans, jerks himself faster. "Because I do want to, Michael. I want to touch you everywhere, your face, your hair, your cock. I want to touch the skin you bared for me, the skin I tasted in your dreams."
Michael grunts, shooting hard, come spurting all over Kieran's chest, wet on his skin, hot, alive, and for a moment, he exists again. "I'm close, Michael. The more time we spend together, the closer I become."
"I can't believe you're real," Michael says, dragging his fingers through his own come, sliding his fingers across the thrum of Kieran's lips. "How are you even real?"
"It's you," Kieran answers, simply, truthfully. "You make me real, Michael."
"I don't know how that could be true," Michael frowns a little, thinking. "But if it is, if I'm really doing this? I need to know how to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't want to lose you."
Kieran has never seen him so serious, and he's never looked more gorgeous, either. His beautiful, perfect, resonant boy. "Are you certain, Michael? You must be certain."
"I am," he says, and Kieran lights up all over, like fireflies dancing on his skin. "I'm certain."
"Do you swear it?" Kieran asks, the zing of it almost too much, the feel of Michael's intensity, the purest thing he's ever known. "Do you give your oath?"
"I do," Michael says, and just like that, their bond is sealed. Michael lifts the energy from Kieran's fingers, twists it through his own. "I promise, Kieran. I won't ever let you go."
"Nor I you," Kieran murmurs, sealing their bond a second time with a kiss to Michael's lips, a hand around his cock. Aside from the words, this is all he has to offer. "Sleep now, my love. I'll be with you in your dreams."
"And when I wake up?"
"You swear it?" Michael laughs happily, stretches. He should shower, he's covered in sweat and spunk and god knows what, but Kieran feels amazing, way too good to move. "Okay, but do you give your oath?"
"I give my oath," Kieran says, curling himself around Michael, making his whole body thrum. "All that I have, all that I am," he whispers, low and rich, following Michael easily as he dreams. "I'm yours now, Michael. Forever."
THE FRANKENSTEIN PENISERNEST HOGAN
"Why the fuck can't I ever find a guy with a really big cock?" the tall, bleached-blonde that Ralph had his eye on suddenly got up and shrieked.
It cut through the smoky, muffled roar of that concrete-floored bar, spoiling its abandoned-garage atmospheres. There was silence. The two truckers who were playing pool stopped and stared at her. A lanky, greasy longhaired kid who would have been a biker if he could ever afford a motorcycle stopped plunking quarters into the juke box to make it play Ted Nugent's Bound and Gagged over and over again and walked over to her.
The dried-up crone behind the bar grew pale, the figures at the bar – except for Ralph – all looked longingly toward the door.
"Girl," the pseudo-biker said, smiling with teeth that were on the green side, "this is your lucky day."
Oozing confidence from inside his worn-out Harley Davidson T-shirt and grease-caked Levis, he walked over, reaching for her with bony hands and dirty fingernails.
The old barkeep reached for her shotgun that was just under the cash register.
Before a greasy paw could come near her ample breasts, the blonde sent a dainty fist at high speed into his solar plexus, knocking out his wind. He gasped, started to teeter on his feet. She aided in destroying his balance by landing her cowboy-booted foot squarely on his groin.
Once he was down and helpless she undid his Led Zeppelin belt buckle, and his fly, then pulled down his pants.
"Shit," she said, spitting on the pitifully shriveled member, "it don't even qualify as so-so."
The click of a pump shotgun being cocked turned every eye in the place to the white-haired barkeep. "Damn it, bitch!" she said. "Get the fuck outta here, and don't come back!"
"Okay, okay," the blonde said, holding up her hands, flashing long, blood-red nails and causing jiggles that couldn't be helped under her faded peach halter top. She got up and made her spectacular, drunken way to the door, her damn near perfect ass – coated with expensively cut, but old, denim – shaking violently.
Everyone in the bar was relieved. She was great to look at, but this was one of those nights when the L.A. smog didn't stop cooking at sundown. All eyes were bloodshot and sleep was impossible. What they wanted was a place with a half-way decent air-conditioner where they could relax and drink in peace.
The exception was Ralph. Then was something about that brassy lady that got his mind off the sweltering, unhealthy air and his problems. It has been a couple of hours since he had seen any sign of them, so he left his flat, warm, half-full beer and followed her out.
She was pacing the parking lot in dangerous frenzy, muttering non-stop something mostly unintelligible except for frequent repetitions of the word "fuck."
She was all firm aerobicized muscle and sharp nails running too hot on too much alcohol. It could be risky, but he's was growing used to that. She could also be fun, just what he needed.
He got in her way, and said, "So, you want a really big one?"
Her blue cracked-ice eye gave a look that could kill as he pointed to the bulge in his pants. It ran almost down to his knee.
"So, you rolled up a couple of sweat socks," she said, but those eyes grew a few degrees warmer.
"It's real," he said, "unbelievable, but real."
"Well, seeming's believing," she said. Her nipples started to peek through her top.
"My car's right over here," he said, trying to take her arm.
His hand closed on thin air. Like a flash she had his pants down to his ankles, exposing it to the corrosive, starless sky.
"Oh, my god," she said, as she got down on her knees as is to worship.
It was a full eighteen inches long, getting longer and stiffer as she drew closer to it. It was a monster, with what looked like scars going all the way around it in three places. The sort of thing Frankenstein's monster would have between his legs.
As she hungrily kissed the head, coiling a long, warm tongue around it, he scoped out the parking lot. No sign of life. Like a typical suburb along L.A.'s San Bernardino Freeway: after midnight meant mass suspended animation. But the cop's asses weren't always glued to their stools at their favorite doughnut shops. And cops were the least of his worries.
She broke the kiss that added another inch to its length. She was about to take it between her breasts. A strong cable of saliva still connected it to her mouth.
"Like I said," he took her face in his hands, "my car is right over there."
"Oops," she said, with a leering grin that broke the saliva cable. "I got carried away."
She was the kind that would. Just what he was looking for.
Soon they were in the back seat of his battered, green Nova. Ralph couldn't believe how fast she got rid of her clothes, even the cowboy boots. Once again she was kissing the heavy, purple glans, flicking he tongue up and down the slit. He gently kneaded her breasts, simultaneously rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. Her eyes closed, she sighed, then chanted, "Tit fuck me! Tit fuck me!"
They rapidly adjusted themselves so that she held it firmly in her warm cleavage. Her nipples grew rock hard and stuck out like stubby fingers as she squeezed his scarred monster, and he pumped it in and out of the taut cavern of flesh, with a slowly increasing rhythm. Each time it hit her in the chin, and slid past her lips to rub her nose, she would greet it with an eager tongue.
It was perfect, all he ever really asked for in life. He forgot all about the smog, cheap bars, mad surgeons, sandy-haired simian goons and anorexic bitches with strange accents carrying little black bags full of devices for a ghastly impromptu operation. Just give him a beautiful woman wrapped around his throbbing cock, her cunt growing wide and wet, his gigantic penis growing sticky at the tips with a milky little pearl that's the prelude to an eruption that would splurt sticky, whit semen rope onto her ecstatic face...
Then he heard something.
Three loud knocks.
The blonde didn't notice, but Ralph looked up over her to see something that made his blood freeze. In the fogged window were the blurred outlines of two all-too-familiar forms. They would show up just when he was about to come.
A huge fist in a black leather glove then came crashing through the safety glass window just above the gasping blonde's head. A scream ripped out of her throat as pebbles of glass rained onto her like hailstones, and the sand-haired ape-like man grabbed a handful of her hair in a deathgrip.
Ralph's enormous cock went a little limp.
"Having fun with your toy, Ralphie?" said a painfully thin woman with colorless hair and an accent he could never identify. She waved her little black bag at him.
The sight of the bag sped up his reflexes. He grabbed the apeman's arm and jerked it deep into the car, causing the crude head and shoulders to make a hard, flesh-pulping impact with the edge of the window and the remaining sheets of crumbling glass. The big, black-leathered fist let go of the blonde's hair.
Once free, the blonde went into action. She took the intruding arm and buried her teeth into it, clamping her jaws like a gila monster.
Seeing he chance, Ralph leaped over the seats. Seconds later he had found his keys and had the Nova all fired up. He punched it, sending the car leaping ahead into the empty parking lot, dragging along their kicking and screaming attacker. They were bouncing out into the street before the blonde let go, sending him rolling, the asphalt chewing up clothing and flesh.
Naked, with is tremendous organ limp now, Ralph's eyes glazed over as he locked into some serious maniacal driving. Completely ignoring the business/residential speed limit, he shot his way up the main drag, then floored it all the way to his first destination: an on-ramp to the San Bernardino Freeway. Once on that he ignored the 55 MPH limit, and red-lined away. It didn't really matter where to, anywhere the freeway took him would do, as long as it put precious miles between him and them.
"What the fuck is all this shit?" the blonde screamed, her hair flying wildly in the blast from the broken window. "Sunspots fried everybody's brains or something?"
"My name is Ralph," he said.
"Mine's Willy – from Wilma, my parents like The Flintstones more than I did – and that was no explanation!"
Ralph settled into the rhythm of the freeway, glanced into the rearview mirror and said, with a straight face, "That was Nelda and Jacob. The came to repossess my dong."
Her facial muscles went limp a second, then she settled back down into the back seat, saying, "Yeah... sure."
"Think about it," she said, "how could I have possibly been born with this Frankenstein monster between my legs? Where do you think all those scars came from? Natural penises this long never quite get completely hard."
"I... it's unnatural – I mean artificial?"
"Well, sort of, a miracle of modern transplant and reconstructive surgery. The illegal work of this guy who calls himself Dr. Kraken."
"Wha ... why?"
"My own was small, real small. Everyone thought it was funny. I had an extremely difficult time getting laid. This one bitch, after seeing it, said, 'I've changed my mind – it's too small,' and left me sitting there with a hard-on. Can you imagine that?"
She gave a confused nod.
"It was driving me crazy, so I started looking into penis enlargement, which turned out to be mostly bullshit and rip-offs. Then one day this Kraken character – he's all wrinkles with no hair, not even an eyelash – came to me. He got my name and address from one of the quacks. His transplant/reconstruction process made sense to me, so I went for it."