by BA Tortuga
“You see?”
“Oh….” That hot hand began moving, rubbing, stroking him. “Oh, that’s fine.”
Fine did not really begin to describe it. Dieter widened his stance, pushing into Mago’s hand. “Yes.”
“Do you want… before we go, I mean?” The hunger in Mago’s voice slid down his spine.
“Yes.” There was a whole world of yes there. They could clean up together before they went. Dieter kissed Mago again, teeth prickling that lovely lower lip, hips rolling against Mago’s touch.
Mago opened wide, fingers working his slacks open, searching for his skin. The feel of Mago’s fingers was unbearably rough, hot, making him moan. By contrast, the skin of Mago’s neck and cheek was soft, sweet, the smooth close shave he’d obviously given himself making it seem almost babyish.
“Oh. Guapo. Man, you feel so hot.” Mago arched, chin lifting, offering more skin to him.
“No. Oh, Mago, you are the one. You burn. I do not need my eyes to see it. I must only feel.” Dieter pulled at Mago’s jacket and shirt, wanting more skin, feeling what he could touch with his lips give under the press of his teeth.
Mago’s fingers wrapped around his cock, the nerves sending sparks through him.
He finally worked one of his own hands beneath Mago’s clothes, moving up Mago’s back, feeling each rib of spine, pulling Mago closer. He wrapped the other around Mago’s neck, holding him still for his teeth to slide into the flesh.
“Oh….” Mago gasped, went stiff and trembling in his arms, fingers squeezing his prick.
Oh. The finest aperitif there was. Dieter sipped delicately, pulling at Mago’s essence, his cock throbbing in Mago’s hand as he spent.
“Dieter.” His name was whispered, moaned, the sound shaped by desire.
“What do you want, Mago?” Licking at the bruise he’d left, Dieter petted, stroked, breathing in Mago’s scent mixed with his own.
“Touch me. Oh man. You’re gonna make me mess my good pants, Guapo.”
“No. No, I am not.” Feeling his way, Dieter sank to his knees, opening Mago’s trousers and nuzzling his face into the gap, searching.
“Dieter!” Mago’s hands found his hair, hips rubbing against his face.
The richness of Mago’s scent intensified here, earthy and dark, and Dieter found Mago’s cock with one hand, pulling it out so his lips might slide over the head. The taste mixed with Mago’s blood in his mouth, causing him to moan, to rock.
Sounds poured down over him, sweet and wanton, almost hymns of need and lust. He loved those sounds, loved the feel of Mago’s muscles flexing under his hand. He pushed down with his lips, sucking hard, teeth just threatening.
Mago jerked, taking his mouth, crying out, his name echoing.
So good. So utterly perfect. Dieter took in the cry as he took everything else, licking Mago’s flesh, practically purring.
“Gonna. Soon. I…. Please.” The sharp, accented words heralded the throb of Mago’s cock, the wail as his mouth was filled.
So like blood. Like life. Dieter drank it down, petting and soothing, holding Mago as he sagged.
“I…. You…. We…. It’s good, Guapo. So good.”
“It’s very good, Mago.”
Dieter rose, pulling up both of their pairs of pants, walking them unerringly toward the bath. “Very, very good.”
Mago’s head bobbed, following him easily, body relaxed and warm beside him.
Dieter smiled. Mago had no idea how good it was. They would go to dinner. He would wine and dine Mago, listen to him laugh. And then, Dieter decided, he would convince Mago to stay overnight. At least.
“ARE YOU sure everything is as I asked for it?”
Dieter’s friend Amelie patted his arm, her roses-and-talc scent falling about them, familiar as his own. “Of course, Dieter. Canvas, paints. Velvet on the chaise. Are you certain I cannot stay?”
He smiled, shaking his head slightly, moving her toward the door. “This is a private thing, Amelie. You will meet him soon, I have no doubt.”
She kissed his cheek, just a soft brush of painted lips, and she was gone, murmuring a goodbye and leaving him alone. Waiting for Mago.
He could only hope his preparations would not upset his mercurial magician. Mago may very well be in the wrong frame of mind to paint, but he had said so many times that he wished to, that Dieter had finally arranged the scenario.
It was partly selfish, of course. Just the thought of being nude, stretched out before Mago as his young lover shaped his form on the canvas, made him unbearably hard. Restless. Made him ache.
The knock at the door gave him no more time to worry, and Dieter opened it eagerly, waiting to hear that much anticipated voice.
“Hola, Guapo!” Mago sounded happy, horny, heat pressing into his arms.
“Mmm. Hello, Mago.” Oh, how he loved that spicy scent, the sharp need that rose in him to taste and feel.
Mago kissed him, long and hard, the pleasure and arousal maddening. Hands stroked through his hair, admiring, loving him.
The wonder of it hit him, as it did every time. This was his prey, his target, something weak and fragile in his hands, and yet he could not get enough. There was no way he could harm Mago. “Come in, Mago. I have a surprise for you.”
“Yeah? Wicked!” Mago slid one arm around his waist, pressed close. “I found something for you too.”
“Really?” Dieter turned them back in, trusting Mago to close the door, and led him carefully into the main room. “Look.”
“Oh. Oh. Oh, man. You’re going to… I can…. Oh, Guapo, look!” Mago’s voice was ecstatic, rich with pleasure. “Oh, I’m going to paint you….”
He could feel Mago’s compact body vibrate against him, could hear the absolutely happy thump of Mago’s heart, and he smiled, turning for another kiss. “I was hoping you’d like it. I got you acrylics and oils, because I didn’t know….”
“You spoil me.” Mago’s hand drew him closer, the kiss deep as still water. “Can we start now?”
“Of course we may.” The kiss disoriented him, heated his mouth with the warmth of the blood under Mago’s skin. Dieter laughed. “You will have to show me where Amelie moved the chaise. She is so anxious to meet you.”
“Is she? Let’s get you undressed first. The velvet will feel fucking sweet on your skin.” Fingers worked his shirt open, fingertips teasing his skin.
“Oh yes. She wanted to stay and watch you work, but I thought that might ruin the mood.” Arms dropping to his sides, Dieter stood and let Mago disrobe him, let the cool air hitting his skin make him shiver even as Mago’s hands heated him.
“Mmm…. This will be good just us, yeah? So that we can rub together after?” Mago knelt, working his pants off.
“Yes.” That sounded divine, rubbing against Mago, rich velvet against his backside. “I thought about that when I sent Amelie for the fabric. You’ll have to feel it.”
Mago kissed the tip of his cock, just the barest caress before he stood. “Yeah. Let’s get you posed.”
The muscles in his thighs shook for a moment before settling, and Dieter nodded, reaching out. “Help me?”
“Always.” Mago led him to the chaise, eased him down onto the soft fabric, fingers arranging him, carding through his hair.
He felt decadent, spread out on the sumptuous velvet, legs spread just so, hair fanned around him. Powerful. Hard. “Oh….”
“So beautiful. You make me need.” A finger trailed along his shaft, his inner thigh. “I’m going to paint you. Tell me a story, Guapo, while I work.”
“Mmm.” His hips arched, rolled, reaching for the touch even as Mago moved away and began to arrange things, if the clink of jars and brushes could be trusted. “What sort of story, my own? Shall I tell you about the last artist I knew?”
“Oh yeah. I’d like that.” He could hear the whump of Mago’s clothes hitting the ground, the scent of Mago’s skin growing stronger.
Dieter breathed deep, letting the scent
feed his hunger, letting it mix with the paint Mago opened. Oh, good. He would use oils.
“He was Italian. By all accounts he was an awful portraitist, but as I never saw his paintings, I did not care. He always smelled of rosemary and oregano.”
Mago chuckled, the sound happy and rich as sweetened cream. “He smelled like lunch?”
“He was an appetizing morsel.” How could he not join in that laughter? “Very hot-blooded. He insisted that I sit for him. It was not until I encouraged him weeks later, though, that he thought to paint me nude. Not like you. You knew the first time we saw each other how you wanted me.”
“I did. You’re beautiful. You glow.”
Digging his fingers and toes into the velvet, through a show of sheer will, Dieter kept himself from rising and taking Mago to bed. “Thank you, love. You bring out the best in me.”
Mago made a soft needy sound, the noise vibrating. “Tell me about the oregano painter.”
“I sat for him for nearly a month. Then I suggested he paint me without the stiff formal clothing.” Dieter laughed, remembering the eager young man perfectly. “He spent all over the canvas the first day and had to start over.”
Mago chuckled. “Yeah? I can see that. You’re like pure sex and shit, all brought to life.”
“Oh, Mago, you have no idea what you do to me. You are the sexy one.” So hot, his Mago. He could feel it even over the space separating them. “He tasted like garlic and desperation when I took him.”
“I think wine and honey sounds better. How long did you sit for him?”
“Perhaps another two months. Sadly, they tell me his portrait of me was no better than his others. You are a much better painter, my own.” Amelie had gone and looked at Mago’s paintings, and even though those were commercial, she said he had a gift. Amelie had a real taste for artists, and for their art, and he trusted her. And Mago had that spark about him, one that bespoke talent.
“That’s a shame; you’re so fine with the light in your hair.” The sound of brush on canvas was rhythmic, soothing. “Oh, I found you something. I was in a junk store and found a neat old hairbrush. It’s soft and silver, and I thought you’d like to feel it.”
Heat bloomed in his belly, building on the fire already there. “And you say I spoil you.” He shifted minutely, his cock stiff against his lower belly, wet and needy.
“Mmm… I can smell you. I was looking for old canvasses and I saw it, thought about sitting with you on your bed and brushing your hair, touching you.”
“Yes. What a lovely image. I love when you brush my hair.” The sound of Mago’s brush on the canvas was very much like the stroke of a brush through his hair, and the correlation made his scalp tingle.
“It’s like silver, but not sharp or itchy….” Mago started humming, working harder.
The noises soothed him even as the scent of Mago and paint and his own musk enflamed him. His skin rubbed the velvet, every tiny particle of the nap distinguishable from the other, maddening him. It was torture of the sweetest kind.
“You’re so fine.” Mago hummed. “I’m painting your legs now, so long, so fine.”
“I fear we may have to take a break soon.” He had no idea how much time had passed, but it seemed only moments and yet endless. He strained to hear Mago moving, strained to catch every hint of Mago’s scent as it changed. Soon he would simply burn up from the sensory overload, without even being touched. “We should try out your gift too.”
“Oh yeah. I’d like that.” Mago stretched, groaning a little. “I’m going to go clean the brushes in the other room. Turpentine stinks.”
“Very well.” His conscientious Mago. Of course, it was unlikely his Mago had ever had the quality of brushes Amelie would buy for him, so he would want to care for them properly. Dieter stayed where he was, only relaxing the pose, letting one hand fall between his legs.
He heard Mago washing and humming, the sound happy, relaxed, aroused. Then those quiet footsteps came closer, soft hands on his legs. “Dieter.”
“Yes.” He reached for Mago, hands finding hot, hot skin over lean muscle. “Oh, so warm.”
A burning tongue slid up his stomach, Mago stretching over him.
“You were… oh. Supposed to bring the brush, lovely one.” He could barely think. When was the last time he’d had a lover who affected him so?
Soft bristles tickled his hip. “I remembered.”
“Excellent.” Working up Mago’s back and neck, he found the soft curls at the base of Mago’s skull, dug his fingers into them, and pulled Mago down for a kiss. Mago opened to him, tongue sliding against his, low moans filling his mouth.
They kissed long and deep, Dieter sliding his tongue into Mago’s mouth, tasting, savoring. The only thing stopping him from pushing Mago to the floor and taking him was the urge to let Mago use his gift, and Dieter pulled back, both of them shaking.
“Oh. Oh, Guapo, you make me need.”
“Yes.” He felt down again until he found Mago’s hand and the soft-bristled brush in it. “I would feel your gift.”
“Oh yeah. You wanna sit up and let me brush?” Mago nuzzled, hair brushing his shoulder.
Nodding, Dieter took one last kiss, then sat up and shifted so Mago could sit behind him. He shook out his hair, knowing it would brush Mago’s thighs.
“Oh….” Mago kissed his shoulder; then the soft bristles started stroking through his hair, slow, steady motions that set his nerves alight.
His whole body tingled with it, and Dieter let himself go and simply felt, leaning back with his hands on Mago’s legs. “So good, love.”
“Love how you feel stuff, Guapo.” Mago was vibrating with quiet moans, fingers carding behind the brush.
The brush was soft, so soft—horsehair, no doubt. Mago’s skin was fine and smooth under his hands, the tiny hairs prickling his palms. Rich and heady, Mago’s musk rose between them, strong and hot. Dieter licked his lips, hips rising as his head fell back.
The brush tickled the small of his back, bristles raising goose bumps on his spine.
Good. So good. Balancing on one hand, Dieter moved the other between Mago’s legs, stroking lightly.
“Oh….” Mago spread, thighs trembling against his hips.
“Mmm. Keep brushing.” Mago’s hand had slowed, and Dieter wanted him to keep on, even as his own hand moved faster.
“I…. Yeah. Yeah.” Mago’s breath came quick, light upon his shoulder.
They moved together, their rhythms matching, Mago brushing as he pulled at Mago’s cock. His own prick was hard, so hard and demanding. He wanted to turn and shove Mago down, slide inside him, drink deep from him as they came. But he could wait just a while more.
Mago started jerking, started bucking against his touch, little sounds filling the air.
That was his cue, that and the pull of the brush at the bottom of his hair, making him wince. Dieter turned, took the brush, the cool silver warmed by Mago’s skin, and dropped it next to the chaise. He eased Mago back and down, pressing against his shoulders, leaning down for a kiss.
Mago arched beneath him, a flame, hands pulling him closer.
Hot, soft skin rubbed against him everywhere, his cock pressing into Mago’s belly, his nose going to Mago’s throat to take in the scent, tongue testing the pulse at the base. The low moan vibrated his lips, Mago gasping his name.
Oh, he wanted a taste. And yet he wanted other things as well. Kissing, nipping, Dieter slid his hand down, pressing between Mago’s legs again. Mago was hard, heavy, the hot flesh throbbing in his hand.
Thumb brushing the tip, Dieter stroked, moaning at the feel, pressing biting kisses against Mago’s chin. “Such a feast.”
“A-always so hungry, Guapo.” Mago’s fingers found his nipples.
“Always.” His nipples tightened, drew up under Mago’s touch, and Dieter moaned again. He moved from Mago’s cock, down to cup the heavy balls.
Those thighs spread wider, Mago’s hips tilting, offering.
; He pressed against the skin behind with his fingertips, his teeth just scraping the skin at Mago’s pulse point. “I want all of you, Mago.”
“Yes. All.” Mago’s fingers pinched his nipples, tweaking hard.
“Oh.” He wasn’t certain he could wait to prepare Mago, to be inside him, so instead he sat up, straddled Mago’s thighs, and took Mago inside him.
“Dieter!” Mago gasped, hands falling to his waist.
“Yes. Oh, my Mago.” His. His own. His hands rested on Mago’s chest, holding him up as he pushed and shoved, opening to take Mago in all the way.
“Yours.” He could feel Mago’s heart beating, pounding beneath his hands.
He had to taste. Simply had to. The need was a biological imperative, calling to him, making his hips jerk and his cock jump. Dieter bent, needlelike teeth slipping past the defense of Mago’s skin, drinking the spice and heat right in.
Mago jerked up into him, hands holding his mouth close, offering himself to Dieter without the slightest hesitation.
That flavor made him cry out, made him move his hips back and forth to get more sensation, more of what he craved. He would have to let go, soon. Would have to stop drinking.
“Love. Dieter.” Mago humped up into him, sending electricity up his spine.
Groaning, he pulled back from the deadly kiss, his head falling back as he rode. Necessary. That was what Mago was. He had to have more and more.
“Gonna. Come on. Gimme.” Mago’s hand slid over his cock, tugging good and hard.
Dieter came, his teeth bared, his back bending almost to the point of pain. So good.
Mago grunted, heat flooding him, that cock throbbing inside him.
Gracious, but he loved the feel of this man, the taste. “You’ve painted me now for sure.”
“Mmm-hmm. You’re fine.” Mago smiled against his lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Tracing the smile with his tongue, Dieter resisted the urge to take another bite.
“Mmm. You gonna let me spend a couple days, Guapo? I don’t got a job ’til Tuesday.”