by Sean Michael
He kept his hand moving, pushing over Giles' gland. When Giles came again, it was quiet, almost silent, with come leaking from the long cock.
Harrison's hand was beginning to ache from the tight grip Giles' body had on it, so he added more lube around his wrist, the heat where Giles' hold closed around him just incredible.
"Keep me."
"I am. And I'll tell you as often as you need to hear it. It doesn't matter how much you push or scream or tell me to go away. I'm keeping you."
Giles nodded, moaned for him.
"My hand is inside you, Giles. You'll never be able to get rid of me now."
"Swear it?"
"I swear it, Giles." He pushed his hand deeper again, reminding Giles exactly how he was holding his lover. Giles answer was a full-body shudder, a deep cry. "That's right. Anytime you wonder, remember this."
"Remember. Oh, God. Help me."
"Help you what, G?" He pushed his fist forward again, then back.
"I don't know. I don't know. I only know you're the only one who can."
"That's because you were made for me and I was made for you." He kept moving his hand.
"Yes." Giles nodded and Harrison wanted to scream with pure, unadulterated joy.
"Yes!" He moved his hand faster, and Giles arched, face going a dark red. "Mine. You're mine."
Giles only nodded, face a study in passion. Harrison stretched his hand open and then curled it up into a fist again.
"Love." Another weak orgasm rocked Giles, the long body going limp. His Giles was fucking amazing.
He rubbed the come into Giles' belly with one hand and slowly began to work out the one buried inside Giles' body. Giles moaned softly when his hand left, cock bobbing weakly. Bending, Harrison kissed Giles' hole, then his balls, his cock.
His lover was gone -- melted, boneless, all for him.
He reached up and undid the tie holding Giles' hands over his head, then Harrison wrapped himself around Giles, settling them together. Giles pressed close, arms and legs wrapping around him, holding on.
"I've got you," he told Giles.
He did.
***
Giles woke up, blinked at the clock, at Harrison, then slept. Then he did it again. And again. And again.
At some point he must have wandered into the bathroom, because he woke up in Harrison's arms, floating in the huge bathtub. The water was warm and there were bubbles. Bubbles. He laughed softly, popped one. The whole world smelled like strawberries.
"Mmm. You're awake." Harrison's hand slid down his front to his belly.
"Mmmhmm. I'm sorry, I was so tired." He lifted his face, kissed Harrison's jaw. His world felt soft, padded almost, like he was in a perfect bubble.
"No need to apologize. You don't sleep enough as a rule."
Giles rested against his lover, legs floating, body relaxed. "Has it been long?" Last thing he remembered, it had been Saturday morning.
"Two days. You needed the sleep."
"Two days? Wow." He smiled, fingers sliding over Harrison's belly. "Am I okay?"
"Well, I imagine that you're pretty hungry, but yeah, you're okay. More than okay."
"Good." He'd never felt like this before. Ever.
"It is good, isn't it?"
"Yes. Thank you." His fingers tangled in the heavy mass of curls above Harrison's cock, just playing lightly.
"This is what it's all about, G. All about this feeling."
"Hmm? It what?"
Harrison petted his hair, his shoulder, the touch easy. "The lifestyle you think is a game is all about finding this place where there's pleasure and peace and goodness."
That was a lot of words in a row. "I like this."
"Yeah, me, too."
"Can I stay?" He didn't want to be alone right now.
"You're staying." Harrison sounded very sure.
"Okay. Thank you." He cupped Harrison's balls, touching so carefully. God, the man was stunning. Solid and strong, sensual, male.
Harrison's legs spread for him.
"Mmm." He kept resting, stayed close, fingers sliding up and down the thick shaft now.
Harrison groaned, hips twitching, pushing into his touch.
"You feel so good." He could touch forever.
"I think that's my line at the moment."
He smiled, fingers teasing the head, learning each little ridge.
"Great touch. Amazing hands."
Giles hummed his appreciation, then kept touching, exploring each and every inch of that cock. Harrison's fingers slid along his belly, up to his nipple rings to tug and play with them. The sensation was deep, peaceful somehow. Just right.
"Come here," muttered Harrison, free hand wrapping around his head and tilting it so they could kiss. Giles ended up in Harrison's lap, belly to belly, tongues sliding together.
"Yum. Perfect." Harrison's hands slid down to his ass, holding him lightly.
"Hey." He took one kiss after another.
Harrison squeezed his ass, fingers sliding along his crack. His ass was still tender, but not sore. Their tongues tangled together, Harrison moaned, pushing into his hand. He teased the slit, careful, gentle, not wanting to sting. Harrison's hips pushed up into his hand again, bouncing him up out of the water a little.
"You're so hard." He rubbed again.
"You do that to me."
"Good. I want you to need me."
Harrison's hands came up to cup his face. "I do, G. This is symbiotic, this thing between us."
"I love that word." Symbiotic.
"Thing?" He could see the twinkle in Harrison's eyes.
He snorted and pinched the tip of Harrison's cock, gently. "Nope, between."
Harrison jerked as he pinched, then threw his head back and laughed. Giles leaned in and kissed Harrison's throat, nibbling lightly. That earned him a soft moan, Harrison's throat vibrating beneath his lips. Giles explored the tanned skin, lips sliding over the stubble, teasing and testing and tasting. Harrison moved with him, offering kisses and moans and touches in return.
His hands kept sliding over his lover's cock, adoring it, making Harrison feel.
"Gonna make me come." He didn't think it was a complaint.
"Good." He kissed Harrison's collarbone.
Harrison chuckled, though the sound was husky, thick with arousal. He bit down, letting his teeth sting the littlest bit. Harrison jerked, eyes widening a little in surprise. Then he got a grin and Harrison pushed up hard into his hand.
"Mine." He bit down again.
"You've got that right," growled Harrison.
It made him feel powerful, strong as he licked and touched and bit. One of Harrison's hands landed behind his head, keeping their mouths together as the kisses grew heat. Their tongues fought, the pleasure between them getting fiercer.
Harrison began to hump up into his hand, each thrust pushing him up out of the water, so he squeezed and pulled, focusing on the pleasure in his lover's eyes.
"G..." The way Harrison said it, it sounded about four syllables long -- drawn out and sexy.
"Come on. You need."
"Need you."
Giles nodded. He was right there. Harrison smiled and heat spilled out over his hand, hot even compared to the tub water. Giles gentled his touch, leaned in to kiss Harrison. Harrison kissed him back, sucking on his tongue.
They floated together, humming and kissing and tasting.
"It's a good place, G. This is where I'll take you. Whenever you need it."
"The tub?"
A low chuckle answered him. "No, G. I mean mentally, physically. This good feeling."
"Oh." He wasn't sure he believed Harrison, but it didn't matter. He had it now.
Harrison laughed softly. "You don't believe me." His nose was kissed. "It's true, though. Whether you believe or not."
"You don't know what I'm thinking." Did he?
"I can see it in your eyes, G."
The words made him smile, the thought comforting. Harrison tugged him into a
nother kiss. That made him smile even more.
***
Harrison hummed as he put together some sandwiches and a quick salad, setting the plates on a tray to take in to Giles. The man had finally found his subspace and they'd had a glorious day together. He added two bottles of water to the tray and grabbed it, heading back down the hall, naked and easy in his skin.
Giles was curled up in his bed, pretending to watch TV while he dozed. It made Harrison smile to see Giles still relaxed, catching up on his eating and his sleeping.
He set the tray on his nightstand and crawled into bed with his lover.
"Mmm. Love." Giles turned to him, smiled and cuddled close.
He kissed the top of Giles' head. "My G. I made lunch."
"You did?" Lovely eyes met his, relaxed and happy. He wondered if anyone had ever seen this but him. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome." He brought the tray over and put it over his own legs. "There's sandwiches, salads, and water. Nothing fancy."
Giles grabbed a sandwich half and offered it to him. Smiling, he accepted and started eating. Giles took the salad, nibbling away, humming deep in his chest.
"It's a raspberry vinaigrette." And he'd bought it because it was reddish -- he'd noticed Giles had a real affinity for red.
"It's a fabulous color." Giles let it drip down his fingers, watching it fall.
"I had a feeling you'd think so. It's supposed to go in your mouth, though." He gave Giles a wink.
Giles licked his finger clean. "Picky, picky."
"Nah, it just tastes better than it looks on the covers." He leaned in and helped clean those lovely fingers. Giles laughed for him, tongue slipping against his, and he hummed and sucked on Giles' tongue. Giles shifted, almost upending the food, which would be a shame, so Harrison backed off.
"Keep eating, G."
Giles nibbled on sandwiches, ate most of the salad. Harrison ate as well, smiling, happy.
"Thanks for... lunch?"
"You're welcome. I like seeing you eat."
Giles grinned. "I eat like everyone else."
He snorted. "If everyone else is a mouse."
"Eek eek." Giles stuck his tongue out. That had him laughing and he grabbed Giles, tugging him in close. Loose and laughing, happy and at ease -- Giles was addictive like this. He took a kiss, tasting the flavors of their lunch along with his favorite flavor of all -- Giles himself.
"Love you, hmm?" Giles rubbed their noses together.
He nodded, smiled, warm all the way through. "I know. I love you, too."
"Good."
"Mmm, yeah, it is." He ran his fingers through Giles' hair.
Giles' eyes crossed a little bit. "Mmm. You're making it hard to go back to my real life."
"This is your real life."
"No. This here... it's magic."
Yes. He nodded. "And it's ours."
"Yeah. This, right now, it gets to be ours."
No. He popped the end of Giles' nose with one finger. "It gets to be ours forever, G."
"Do you believe in forever?"
"I could with you."
Giles settled, cheek on his shoulder, quiet.
"See? You fit perfectly."
One of Giles' hands cupped his cock.
"Absolutely perfectly."
Chapter Fifteen
Three days into what Giles was considering his vacation, Harrison decided they were going to some club. It was okay, really, although Giles was perfectly happy hiding out and relaxing, not dealing with people.
"Welcome back to the Hammer, G."
He hummed, nodded. The place was classy, he'd give Harrison that. They followed a little twinky guy to a table, and Harrison pulled out a chair for him.
"Thanks." He sat, stretched a little. "You have lots of friends here?"
"I do. You will soon, too, I would hope."
"My life's very busy." He didn't need many friends.
"You can't paint twenty-four-seven, G." It was becoming a familiar refrain.
"Silly man, of course I can." He chuckled, winked across the table.
"Well, yes. You can. That's a lousy way to live, though."
"I've taken three whole days off. Almost four."
"Yes, well, considering how many of those paintings of yours wound up selling after opening night, I think you can afford to take a few days off."
He stuck his tongue out at Harrison. He'd talked to Marisa. Things had gone well, eventually. Harrison leaned in and snapped at his tongue. "Don't stick that out unless you plan to use it."
"Maybe later." He bit at Harrison's fingers.
"I'm counting on it." Harrison turned as a little guy bounced over. "Ah, Happy. How are you this evening?"
"I'm glorious, Sir!" The server beamed at Harrison, then him. "Hi! I'm Happy."
Giles chuckled softly. "You most certainly are."
"I think you served us the last time Giles and I came in." Harrison gave him a warm smile. "So what are the specials today?"
"Today there is a nummy chicken parm, there's beef tips with risotto, and there are barbeque shrimp."
"That all sounds delicious. G? What appeals the most?"
"The chicken, I think."
"And I'll have the shrimps, please. We'll share a bottle of house white with that."
"Yes, sir. Would you like salads?"
Giles shook his head. He wouldn't eat a quarter of the meal itself. Harrison had been feeding him for days.
"We'll save room for desserts."
"You will. Me, probably not."
"You will." Harrison always sounded so confident when he said stuff.
He rolled his eyes, chuckled, and the little Happy guy looked confused.
"He's new," Harrison said, giving Happy a wink.
"Oh... Oh, how exciting for both of you! Congratulations!" Happy bounced off and Giles watched. They did like new customers here.
Harrison chuckled. "You look very bemused. You still don't believe this is real, do you?"
"This place? Sure. Obviously it's real."
"I mean the whole BDSM thing. Subs and Doms. What we do."
"I... It's a little weird, you have to admit." A little unnerving.
"It's different. It isn't weird."
"I'm not into it, though. That's okay, right?" He needed Harrison a little.
"Not into it... G, what do you think we've been doing?"
He looked over at Harrison. "Loving each other. A lot."
Harrison took his hand and squeezed, smiling at him. "Yes."
"Okay, then." What did it matter if he didn't think people really did leather and chains?
"Okay, but it's still real. We're doing it. Everyone here is doing it."
He was beginning to believe they were talking in circles. "I'm not a sub, Harrison. I'm an artist."
"Being a sub isn't your job, it's who you are inside. You need the things I give you, G. I think I've more than proved that." Harrison took his hand and kissed his knuckles.
He chuckled but let it go. He was having too good a time to argue.
"There's a show tonight. A pretty boy is going to be tied to the St. Andrew's cross on the stage and whipped."
His nose wrinkled and he pulled back from Harrison a little bit. "Whipped? Like, by a professional? Is there going to be a lot of blood?" He'd seen a lot of performance art -- a lot -- and it could get intense. Hell, it could get gross. If he was prepared for it, he could handle it, but it tended to make him nervous, blood flying around. Blood smelled bad.
Harrison looked honestly surprised by his question. "Blood? No, not from a whipping. Certainly not from a demonstration by a man who knows what he's doing."
He frowned. Well, that didn't make any sense. The blood -- the marking of the ground, the walls, the sheets around -- that was usually the point. "Are you sure? That seems unusual."
"I'm absolutely sure. The master will want to mark his sub, to give the boy the pain he needs and wants. It'll be intense, especially if it's done by a committed pair
, but it won't be bloody." Harrison shook his head, frowned. "What makes you think it'll be bloody?"
"I have to attend a lot of performances -- it's expected. You know? If an artist invites you that you respect, you kind of have to. From what they've explained, the art's in the blood. The sheets around the artist sell for a small fortune."
Harrison just stared at him for a long moment. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Well, of course. Bradley Mitchell, Anne Left, The Bob. They're all acquaintances of mine. We were all there when Jaime Mars cut his hand off. It was..." Horrifying. Terrifying. Huge. "...intense."
Harrison took both his hands and held on, looked him in the eye. "What we -- the BDSM community -- do here is intense. Often very, very intense, which you've experienced firsthand with me. And pain is very often a part of it -- like it is with you and me. You need that intensity, the pain, to focus, to take you out of that part of your brain that would ask you to make that kind of sacrifice for your art.
"But a good Dom will not draw blood unless it's a part of the need of the sub -- and then it is most often done with a knife. No one loses any limbs. And whippings, floggings, spankings, all of it, is beautiful as well as intense. The marks that are left aren't permanent, and looking after your sub -- your lover -- after you're done, that's just as important."
Giles looked away, uncomfortable and unnerved. Art, he understood. Art was his world, not anything else. He didn't think he was big enough inside to do anything else.
"G." Harrison waited until he looked back. "You have to promise me that if you ever decide you have to do something like that, you'll come talk to me first."
"Me?" Oh, God. No. No way. He. That. Whoa. Not hygienic. "No. No, I'm a painter. Not a performance artist. I just paint."
"I'm glad to hear that. Very glad."
"Performance artists have a... hard gift. Very hard." He shuddered, sighed, thinking of Jaime's funeral, of how Brad spent hours in the hos... He stopped, looked at Harrison. "That's not what the cutting's about, you know that, right? It's not about making art. I don't want people to see that."
Harrison nodded. "I know. I just want you to always know that I know how to help you -- to give you what you need without you having to cut, to do it yourself. You remember that place you went to the other day? The peace? The cutting was about trying to get there. I have no idea if the cutting got you there or not, but I did. And I can. Every time you need it."