“Leave? What—Oh God, now what?” she asked, looking curiously at Deck with his hands over Naim’s ears. Naim sat placid and unflappable, Liebgott had his head in his hands, and Mac was still red and stuttering.
Bosko tore at a chicken leg.
“I mean I get like…ya know, one way, but sometimes you gotta wanna look at each other, right? I just can’t see how that works. Ya know…l-l-logistically,” Mac stammered.
“Who is logistically?” Bosko asked with chicken in his mouth.
Deck’s jaw hung open.
“Bet, asshole,” Peyton told Mac through his laughter. Mac folded and looked to Laura desperately.
“He has a point,” she said. “I didn’t bet either, but only because I couldn’t figure it out. I mean, I could totally see you bottoming, except for I can’t see how you would bottom other than…” She hesitated. “Like he said, just that…ya know, one way. It’s the height thing,” she insisted.
“What we are talking about?” Bosko asked. No one answered him.
“What? The hell?” Jen stammered. She looked to Naim, immediately alarmed, but he seemed oblivious to the appalling conversation being had around and about him. She knew him well enough to see he was just fine, and she smiled, thrilled at the difference Deck was making to him.
“OH…MY…GOD…” Deck didn’t even know where to start swearing.
“Can we please leave?” Keller pleaded. Jen just smiled wider and took her bagel chips to the kitchen.
Poker chips jumped as Peyton smacked the table, laughing so hard he was soundless, and Bosko stomped into the kitchen, annoyed that he didn’t know what was going on.
Naim assumed that Keller folded, so he raised Spellacy.
“Can we change the subject?” Liebgott begged.
Peyton folded, tears pouring down his face.
“No imagination.” Spellacy shook his head as he saw and called Naim.
“It’s a legitimate question,” Laura maintained. “And you can just sit down and deal with it because you’re the one who bet Mac in the first place.” She bitchfaced at Keller.
“But…” Keller still stood near the door.
“FUCKING STOP,” Deck howled.
Naim, having beat Spellacy’s straight with a full house, pulled the pot toward himself. “You lot really don’t have any imagination.” He sat straight-faced and shook his head. “Why must there be a top and a bottom.” He started placing his chips in neat piles, divided by color, and tapped his foot in annoyance. “Why can’t we mix it up? Which we do. Or rather we will. Later.” He nodded sharply, and Deck stared, eyes bugged out, distraught, confused, and very turned on.
“Which means—” Naim turned and looked at Keller, who was by the door, staring fiercely at the ceiling. “Keller, how much was the bet for?”
Keller ignored him.
“Fifty bucks,” Mac told him.
“Is that what he just took from you?” Naim indicated Mac’s pitiful pile of chips, and Mac nodded. “Laura, count out twenty-five from Keller’s pile, and give it back to Mac if you don’t mind?”
Laura complied, snorting.
“What a stupid bet.” He shook his head as Peyton wiped his eyes, Freya went to pee, Jen wandered back in, and Liebgott just held his face in his hands. “Spellacy is right. Not only do you have no imagination, but you’re also just plain old stupid. All of you.”
Deck wriggled in his seat.
“And yes, I do want to look at him, he’s gorgeous, and I get to shag him senseless. Who wouldn’t want to watch him? So I can top from the bottom. Just like heteros, which is very useful for drastic height differences as well as highly effective at his size.” Spellacy passed him the deck of cards with a respectful nod. “Or, thank you, or simple, plain old missionary. That works just fine too. It’s not like we have to be eye to eye which is complicated enough as it is when one suffers from severe, clinical gigantism.” He looked to Deck drily.
Deck’s face was almost sideways and crooked with shock and awe, and his jeans were way too small.
“Besides, that’s a lot more fun for us than you; everybody wins when the gays go missionary.” He started shuffling the deck. “Also, there are mirrors. But that one way that your sad imaginations couldn’t get past, is not a personal favorite.” He glanced at Deck. “Sorry, cupcake. I hope that’s okay.”
Deck nodded dumbly, his mouth still open, and dangerously close to not giving a single fuck who was in his apartment.
Mac and Laura listened carefully, nodding in enlightened understanding, and Spellacy had his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head ruefully at the stupidity of his crewmates. “Exactly. How hard was that?” He gave Naim a do-you-believe-these-idiots look, and Jen looked at Naim like she’d never seen him before.
Naim started to deal the cards, even though no one but Spellacy had stopped staring at him. “Are you in or out, Keller?” he called to the door.
Keller had his face buried in a wall.
Deck tried to collect himself, managing to stammer. “C-can we kick them out now? Can you guys leave? Like, right the fuck now.”
“Nobody’s leaving yet, cupcake. People still have money for me to take.” Naim picked his cards up.
Deck pulled back, looked at Naim’s calm, beautiful face, and sighed. “I love you, baby doll.”
Naim smiled at his cards and bet.
Deck made it a full hour and a half before he started nagging everyone to go the fuck home. Unwilling to lose any more money to Naim and not particularly comfortable with the openly lustful look on Deck’s face, his guests happily complied. Besides, Laura and Mac couldn’t wait to hear how the application of Naim’s logistics worked out.
Deck slammed the door on Laura’s shout of “Call me tomorrow!” while Naim cleaned up. Naim chuckled.
Deck came up behind him, turned him around, and without word or ceremony, wrapped one arm around Naim’s back and one under his ass, lifted him up, and headed for the bedroom. Naim started to laugh, gripping Deck around the hips with his legs, and he pulled Deck’s shirt up over his head, tossing it aside. Deck growled. They didn’t kiss or touch beyond the grip of carrying, and Naim stopped laughing at the look on Deck’s face.
He’d seen a similar look before, but not quite this. His heart tripped and pounded, and he needed air. His body automatically flexed into Deck’s, pressing himself into the solid muscles of Deck’s stomach. Deck breathed out heavily, his nostrils flared, and his eyes fluttered. His face flushed in that soft, wanting way, and his eyes glittered silver, his mouth open and wet.
He reached the edge of the bed and sat, letting loose of Naim, who immediately knelt over him.
Naim looked.
He looked at Deck’s bare torso, his skin flushed and tan, his gaze on Naim’s face, curious, needy and defenseless. Each part of him reminded Naim of another time together.
The open, vulnerable want on his face brought to Naim’s mind the first time Deck kissed him in the cold, and he’d been so afraid, not even noticing how naked Deck was to him, how exposed and emotionally bare, how he always laid himself at Naim’s feet and allowed Naim to see everything in him and about him.
Deck’s skin glowed in the low light of a bedside lamp that he’d switched on earlier. Shadows and light, freckled and veined, and lightly sprinkled with soft hair that caught and glinted. Deck knew what he looked like, but Naim doubted he really understood his own beauty. Naim thought of the day he told Deck he was leaving the hospital, and how he’d just stood and watched Deck move. He could watch him move for hours. Maybe days. He could watch this perfect body for days, and Deck allowed it to be his. Naim’s to mark, to touch, to taste, to make move, to make shudder and ache and clench and grip.
No. Naim breathed out a deep laugh. Watching wouldn’t be enough. Never enough. Suddenly, the ridiculous conversation from earlier was irrelevant. Naim knew what he wanted. How deeply he wanted to feel Deck beneath him, crying and whimpering the way he did when his body overcame him. He wanted t
o feel Deck beneath him, naked and exposed, and feel himself wrapped tightly inside of Deck’s body.
Deck must have seen it on his face because then he did whimper. But he didn’t move. Naim lifted his eyes from exquisite bare skin to Deck’s gaze, heavy and needy. He took Deck’s chin in his hand and met his mouth with all the force and ache and love and craving he carried with him all the time. Deck kissed him back, his breath uneven, arching his chest up toward Naim, his fingers digging hard and deep into Naim’s thighs. Soft lips caught in teeth and tongues, and it was frantic already as Naim snatched at the front of his shirt, unconcerned about buttons, aware only of Deck and his body.
Naim slid to the floor and grabbed at the fly of Deck’s jeans, jostling and awkward but refusing to break contact with his mouth. Tearing at the button fly as he’d torn his own clothing, Naim slid his hands under the waist of Deck’s shorts to the flesh of his hips and gripped. Deck lifted his hips at the silent command, and Naim jerked down, sliding his mouth from Deck’s and the clothing away.
Naim looked up at him and thought of caring for him in the hospital and the few times he’d looked up in this way, at this man, made of energy and life, confined to a bed or a wheelchair. He remembered the fear, still so fresh in his mind and his heart; the crippling fear he’d lived inside of, fear of this man, and Naim laughed. The memory stayed with him, but in the place of fear lay love and an understanding that he’d never been safer in his life because Deck seemed to refuse to stop loving and wanting him, regardless of what kind of man he was.
Deck didn’t know why Naim laughed, but he smiled anyway, not caring. Anything that made him happy was fine. Anything he wanted was fine.
Naim shoved Deck’s jeans, shorts, and socks away and sat up on his heels, moving his hands along deeply muscled calves and thighs, scratching at the skin and tickling his fingers in coarse yet soft hair. “I was just thinking how afraid of you I was.”
“Of me?” Deck’s voice came out low and sandy.
Naim nuzzled his face in the deep cut between the muscles that met over Deck’s knee, and smiled. He swept his hands along Deck’s endless legs, powerful and shaking. He felt Deck’s hands threading in his hair. “Yeah, of you.” He looked up. “I knew what I was feeling, and I believed that soon enough you’d hate me.” Deck didn’t scoff. He just shook his head sadly. “That was so much worse than hating myself.” He scraped his nails hard at the inside of Deck’s thighs, digging in and letting his fingers swallow the feel of cottony hair against smooth skin over solid muscle.
Deck sighed and said nothing, trying to let his body and his surrender speak for him. He sighed again when Naim bent his head and mouthed at his thigh, dragging his lips and tongue and teeth across in long, wet kisses. His hair flowed loose against Deck’s bare skin, seducing his cock into a jumping throb. Deck couldn’t help but run his hands in it, warm and soft almost like flesh, and he grabbed a fistful and dragged it along the stiff, thin skin of his cock. He inhaled through his teeth at the ticklish lightness of it, and Naim breathed a laugh, sighing into his groin as Deck trembled, touching Naim’s face, pressed into the joint between his belly and thigh.
He licked at Deck, grunting low in his throat at the warm, damp, salty scent. He nipped gently and breathed against the delicate skin of his balls, and Deck whimpered a sigh. Naim licked, delicate and wet.
Naim sat up farther onto his knees and smiled, feeling Deck tense in anticipation, one hand still clutched in Naim’s hair, the other gripping the end of the bed as though he would tumble to the floor if he let go. He looked up again, and Deck watched him, his eyes heavy and bright and dark, lips pressed together and breathing unevenly through his nose. Naim had barely touched him, barely laid a few loose kisses against his skin, and Deck was already coming apart, the want clear on his face and tightening his body.
Lowering his eyes and watching Deck’s belly, Naim tasted him. Just the head, lightly scraping teeth and tongue and mouthing at the sticky line of cum already dripping down the back. The muscles of Deck’s stomach flexed and jumped, and Naim could feel him clenching, trying not to push. He slid his mouth farther down, full of cock and humming gloriously. Deck mewled, his body twitching, both hands clenching the edge of the bed, trying to hold himself still. His mouth fell open, his chest pushed out, trying to find air as his skin turned hot and cold, damp in the coolness of the room.
Naim swallowed and suckled hard, one hand grasping the base of Deck’s beautiful cock, peachy tan, and mapped with veins and thick with blood. He opened and closed his throat against the head, rolling his tongue along the length as Deck hummed and sighed. Scratching hard at his thighs and his belly and his chest, Naim wandered one hand over as much of Deck as he could reach, feeling his skin grow warmer, sweat and gooseflesh breaking out across the path of his hand, Deck’s cock swelling more with each contraction of Naim’s throat and nod of his head.
Twitching and breathing out sweet cries and high whimpers, Deck’s grip on the bed tightened as Naim’s mouth on his cock tightened, his hips and ass flexing uncontrollably in short quivering bursts. He sat upright, held in place by his eyes on Naim’s shining black head in his lap, his long hair falling everywhere, the locks in front rubbing like warm velvet against Deck’s already overheated belly, the ends kissing the top of his thighs as Naim’s body bowed up and down like a supplicant.
Naim’s arms, his wide shoulders, and his muscular back flushed, luminescent and gold with sweat in the low light of the room. Deck’s mouth hung slack, his body straining, and he could not look away.
“Fuck, Naim.”
Naim grew more aggressive, sucking hard at Deck’s cock, thinking it a lush and delicious thrill and his to do with as he pleased. Running his teeth against the sensitive underside, just below the head, caused Deck to jerk and sob, and Naim swallowed down again, moving his free hand from a pretty pink nipple to the fly of his jeans. He swallowed and bit and curled his tongue around and down, squeezing and sliding his hand, circled tight, in time with his mouth as he used the other hand to open his jeans, and he climbed out of them more gracefully than he should have been able to.
“Holy…fuck.” Deck twitched harder, and his hips pitched.
Watching his sweet, dark Naim work his cock like an ancient, sensual jinni, seeing the appearance of more and more of his luscious, honey-colored flesh as he wriggled, tossing his clothing away, Deck clenched and thrust upward helplessly against Naim’s mouth.
“Please…fuck…Naim…” He cried and moaned Naim’s name over and over, bursting and heaving in a shivering orgasm that arched his back and slid through him like hot jelly.
Naim collected cum in his mouth like a precious hoard, swirling it around Deck’s pulsing cock, hot and bitter, and Deck keened, stretching and shuddering until there was nothing left.
Letting Deck’s not quite soft cock slide out of his mouth with a wet, sucking sound, Naim spit the mouthful of cum and saliva into his hand.
Deck sat slumped, twitching and breathing hard but refusing to fall back and miss a moment of the vision of Naim in all his radiant sensuality. Seeing him rub his hands together and look up at Deck, eyes blazing and craving, Deck’s remaining breath blew out of him. “Oh…fuck…” He panted, his eyes fluttering at the thought of what Naim had planned, and his belly flipped and jumped.
A guttural sound came from Naim’s throat as he stood and shouldered Deck back onto the bed. Deck moved hurriedly, scooting backward, Naim following, and he wondered how he could move at all, let alone so quickly. His breath was still ragged, and he chuckled. “Oh fuck,” he repeated.
“That’s the plan.” Naim huffed a breathless laugh as he knelt between Deck’s legs, sliding his slippery hands between them.
“Oh fuuuck.” Deck moaned as Naim found what he wanted and circled his thumb, prodding at the tight entrance, rubbing slick hands against Deck’s flesh. Deck gasped, “How are you doing this to me?” He laughed and whined at the same time.
Naim smiled, leaned over, and
took a tight nipple into his mouth as he slid a strong, careful finger inside, and Deck arched and moaned and laughed and gripped Naim’s hair and shoulder tightly. He writhed onto Naim’s hand. “More. That’s not…more.”
Naim lifted his head and grinned. “Greedy bitch,” he teased, and they both laughed, breathless and desperate.
Naim gave him more, prodding three fingers, sliding with Deck’s own cum, turning them, searching and stretching into Deck’s tight, pale ass. He teased and played, knocking Deck’s hand away when he reached for Naim’s throbbing cock. Deck growled and whined.
He sipped and licked and bit kisses across Deck’s body. His hard stomach, a small nipple, the thin, pink skin of his shoulders threaded with shadowy, bluish-green veins, then moving to press his mouth to the precious, delicate scar near Deck’s heart, worshipping it and loving it for what that nightmare had brought him. He bit his fingers hard inside of Deck, barely tickling at the spot that Deck twisted and ached for.
“Fuck, Naim, fuck. Please.” Deck panted. “Please.” He grabbed at Naim’s wrist, shaking and begging as Naim twisted his body, rubbing his neglected cock against Deck’s thigh.
“What?” Naim whispered, his voice long lost to him. “Please, what?”
Deck’s breath came out of him in deep gasps. “Please, Naim. Quit fucking around,” he begged, not caring in the least. Happy to beg, happy to plead for anything from Naim. Naim owned him, and he knew it and he wanted it.
Naim laughed and turned his fingers forward, pressing hard at Deck’s prostate. Deck howled, and his cock managed to grow hard all over again. “That?” Naim moved his fingers in and out, pressing and sliding across, along, and circling around. “There, Deck? There?”
Deck bit his lip and came up onto his elbows, and he widened his legs. He watched Naim kneeling between them, knuckles digging at the flesh of his narrow ass, Naim’s cock beating and dripping against his stomach. “Jesus, fuck, Naim, now…I can’t…” He fell back again and clumsily reached for the lube, hating that his own cum wasn’t quite enough.
Smoke and Mirrors Page 26