When Irish Eyes Are Sparkling

by Tom Collins

  At the critical moment, his fingers found my pucker and pressed that most intimate cluster of nerves in a way that had me seeing flashes of light. I was too breathless to shout.

  Where the fuck did he learn to do that? I thought, even as I came hard and fast.

  I had no chance to catch my breath before he was kissing me, and then off he sauntered, smug as could be, into my kitchen. Fuck me, I thought, still shaking and feeling his touch there—there in that delicate, promising spot.

  He’d gotten so much better so quickly, I stared after him in bewilderment, stupidly wondering if he’d been honing his technique on pub customers. I mean I actually, seriously thought for a second he’d gotten under the tables and given them all head. Then handed them those satisfaction cards. How would you rate the service? Attentive? Cheerful? Timely?

  “You’ve been practicing,” I accused him, even as I realized how absurd it was.

  He explained his self-improvement routine while making up breakfast, and I felt not only like an idiot but ashamed of myself. Liam wasn’t like me, giving himself away for a cheap thrill. What was I thinking?

  I wasn’t used to being jealous, that was it.

  Troubling in itself that I was jealous. My experience was that if you became attached to something it’d probably be taken away from you.

  He sat on my lap while we ate. I yearned to break open those tight white pants of his and take down the hard meaty dick I felt there. With those pants outlining his ass and the green shirt making his eyes pop, I was surprised he hadn’t arrived at my door with a dozen drooling men trailing after like lovesick puppies. I was frustrated by the fact that we were going to have to get going, and that being at a movie with Gabe and his kid meant no hanky-panky of any kind. That was my rule, there. No making out in any movie with less than an R rating.

  As Liam would have to head off to work not long after the movie, there was no way I could do what I wanted to do with him. Which was strip him slowly of those clothes and burrow into every crevasse I found until the music of his groans vibrated through me.

  Wait. I urged myself. Wait. Because now that he was racing ahead, I was going to have to raise the bar, and the second lesson was going to need more than five minutes in the corner. It would do to tease him and keep him hungry, so he didn’t tire of me quickly. Problem was, every time I touched him I teased myself as well. He’d been on me not half-an-hour ago and I was already starved for him again.

  Which decided me on something I’d been thinking about. I showered and dressed, slipping a special item into my pocket, and we headed out. On the subway, Liam tried to snuggle in close to me, and frowned when I backed off. I think he would have tried sitting in my lap again if I hadn’t kept signaling him to tone it down. There were other couples canoodling and kissing, gay men included, but I couldn’t manage it. Liam seemed disappointed, but resigned. Some day, I thought, he’ll joke with his life partner about his first guy and what an uptight weirdo he was.

  We met Gabe and his son outside the complex. Connor was an eye-catching carrot-top with his dad’s sharp green eyes. He ran up to Liam and got lifted into a bear-hug and swung around, then gamely shook hands with me. I was nervous and uncomfortable; I don’t know how to talk to kids. When I meet them on the job they’re usually screaming and crying, and I’m trying to check them out before they hit or bite me.

  I insisted on paying for everyone’s ticket to balance out the fact that both Liam and Gabe had recently treated me. Liam looked ready to object, but I saw Gabe murmur something to him and he held back. The movie was a G-rated, CGI confection about a misunderstood monster. Once the lights were down and the film started, Liam’s hot hand found its way to my thigh. Like some mischievous creature, it tried to crawl its way up to my crotch, forcing me to push it down.

  Incorrigible.

  We went to a burger place afterwards, where Connor talked about the movie non-stop with Liam, while eating a junior burger and sucking down a kid-sized chocolate shake. Give Liam another gold star: he was fantastic with the boy as was Gabe who, relaxed and happy, joined in the conversation with serious opinions about whether the films flatulence jokes were the funniest ever. I felt massively envious of the relationship they all had.

  It came to an end too soon. Gabe and Connor left us at the subway, Connor asking if we could do this again. Liam promised we would. Before Liam and I parted onto separate trains, he leaned in, murmuring hopefully, “Whatcha doing tomorrow?”

  I gulped. Here was my opening. I slipped my spare key into his tight front pocket and whispered, “Come on over after work and we’ll find out.”

  I walked away quickly. The rest of the day and night found me so restless that I had to spend a couple of hours at the gym, otherwise I might have gone out looking for a stranger to help me, and I didn’t want to do that. I’d been on two dates with Liam. Just two. What was I doing giving him my key? I’d never given anyone my key before.

  I must have worn myself out, because when I woke the next morning I found Liam warm beside me. I couldn’t remember him coming in, or snuggling in naked to spoon me. I was in awe of how good he felt against me, how perfect. Like he’d always been there and always ought to be there.

  I shifted and felt his morning wood poking me.

  Right now, I thought, heart thumping. I got up and snuck into the bathroom to do my business and wash up. I found a used towel on the floor and Liam’s clothing scattered around. Tsk. We’d have to discuss this. Fetching everything I needed, I came back out. Liam had shifted into my empty spot and was sprawled face down in the pillows.

  I drew off the blanket, exposing that incredible body of his, and crawled between his legs to the tight, beautiful ass. I took my first taste of it; a gentle bite to one cheek. He sighed, and I happily nipped at the other one. It was cool and covered in a bit of fur down where it curved above the thigh. I teased those hairs with my breath and tongue, hearing Liam hum. Another gentle bite at those delicious glutes. They twitched and jumped to get away, but I wasn’t going to let them go anywhere. Setting my hand on his ass, I spread him open and moved in with my tongue. Liam whimpered and spread his legs wider.

  I caught a whiff of his earthy fragrance, mingled with the scent of my soap and bent to lick between his hairy thighs. His soft testicles were there, waiting, and so I went for them as well, rolling them in their sacks with the tip of my tongue before taking them into my mouth and sucking them. Liam was awake now, rearing up and clutching at the pillows. He moaned my name, which sent a thrill right through me. Letting his tightening nuts go free, I pressed my tongue up his perineum. He responded instantly, groaning and rocking so the sheets would rub at his stiff, trapped cock.

  “Oliver—” he said, as I shifted out of the way and, taking hold of his shoulder flipped him onto his back. The curtains were pulled and his eyes were wide and guileless. I had the condom ready. Getting it onto his tip, I put my mouth over it and got it down his hard shaft, sucking and using my tongue while doing so. He bucked and hissed with pleasure.

  Releasing his cock, I got the lube and liberally applied it to his dick until it was too slippery to handle. He was wide awake now, and scooting up against the headboard. Aroused as he was, he looked alarmed, wondering what I was doing.

  I crawled forward too, so I’d have plenty of room on the bed. “It’s all right,” I told him, turning around and coming up on wide spread knees. I squeezed out more lube.

  Then, pushing aside my own thickening cock and aching sack, I reached under and slid two wet fingers into my hole. I moved them in and out of that soft, sensitive opening, rocking, giving Liam a show of my back and ass. My breath came short. It was hard to concentrate, as I wanted it to be his fingers toying with me, touching me there again. I felt his eyes watching me, and worried that I’d gone too far too fast. He was going to bolt off the bed and lock himself in the bathroom.

  Unable to wait any longer, I bent over, bracing my self on one arm, quivering with anticipation and hope. There was an a
gonizing moment where I could hear the tick of my old-fashioned alarm clock and Liam’s anxious breathing. Then, to my relief his warm hands touched my hips, and his hard, slick, covered dick bumped up against my ass.

  “Go ahead,” I urged him, “It’s ready and waiting for you.”

  Chapter Six

  *Liam*

  I woke with a flood of luscious sensation coursing up from my aching groin. Something hot, slick and powerful swirled around my pucker and pressed for entrance. I whimpered and ground against the sheet as his mouth tortured my balls. I lost my breath in a bolt of fearful joy as it occurred to me that Oliver meant to take me.

  I was half-asleep and my cock was so hard there was no blood left for my brain. I couldn’t make sense of it when Oliver flipped me over and put a condom on me instead of him. Setting aside the amazing sensation of having him roll it down with his lips, the whole procedure, including the lube, was mystifying. I couldn’t fathom why the rubber was on me instead of him. That is until he turned around and presented. My cock twitched.

  “Oh, wow,” my voice trembled.

  Oliver reached between his legs and began slicking his hole. I saw his balls pull up as he moaned and fingered himself. My balls tightened in sympathy and my tongue tingled to supplant his fingers. I came up onto my knees and caught hold of his hips through pure instinct. I’d always wanted to try anal, but never had the nerve to ask any of my girlfriends. I hesitated.

  I felt so confident yesterday, as I was getting the hang of giving head. Now, Oliver had upped the stakes. I’ve never felt very competent at intercourse; it’s so much easier to give pleasure if you’re right down in there with your mouth and hands. It’s also much more intimate, more personal.

  I was scared and I was excited. No matter that I might choose oral more often than not, it wasn’t because intercourse didn’t feel good. It felt too good, in truth, and the more exciting I found my partner the more difficult it was to control my response. Oliver looked so excited himself; maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all. I looked down at him. He was watching me over his shoulder.

  “Go ahead,” he urged, breathless and eager, “It’s ready and waiting for you.”

  My hips lunged forward as soon as the tip of my cock touched his shiny entrance. I knew I should be careful, but it wasn’t Mister Reason who woke with a screaming hard-on. Mister Impulse was loose and craved what Oliver offered. Oliver gasped, jerking with pleasure—I hoped. The lube made my cock cold, but it felt like the head had slipped into a form-fitting furnace.

  “Oh, wow,” I moaned as my eyes tried to roll back into my head. I gripped his hips harder, concentrating on breathing. Sweat broke out all over my body. I reveled in the sensation of gliding into and out of him as he bucked back at me with little gyrations. He was setting my entire cock on fire.

  “Uh, wow,” I groaned. The sounds of pleasure issuing from him in a steady stream were sending chills down my back. I leaned over to paint patterns on his pale, smooth back with my tongue. The searing sheath of his body flexed along my length as he writhed with me.

  My head lolled as the pleasure found a new crest, my forehead coming to rest between Oliver’s shoulder blades. My orgasm struck like a steaming locomotive out of nowhere. I muffled my cries against his back. I think the only understandable parts were Oliver’s name and several wows.

  “Fuck…shit! I’m sorry,” I panted into his sweaty back. I pulled out, moving slow, and lay back on the pillows. I wanted to sink through the bed. “I’m so sorry, really…but let’s face it; your hotness factor is off the fucking hook. I don’t stand a chance when you wake me like a wet dream with your tongue all over and you’re all gorgeous and then you’re offering me—” Feeling like an even bigger idiot, I shut up.

  He grinned and, to my amazement, flushed. “It’s fine. I like that you lost control. It was an honest response and there’s nothing more exciting than that. Control is the last thing I want when it comes to sex. Besides, in a few minutes you’ll be ready for another go.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but it was fine with me if he wanted to let it rest. It was one more sign of his patient and caring nature.

  He was gentle, loving even, in his handling of my cock, but it was sensitive and I squirmed a little while he got the rubber off and cleaned me with his mouth. The sight was hot enough to send one more orgasmic wave shuddering through my body. My hips gave a last, half-hearted, jerk and lay still. I disentangled myself long enough for a fast visit to the bathroom. He had me grab more condoms while I was in there.

  He was right. The combined magic of his hands and the extraordinary talent of his mouth had me rampant and chewing my lip in what seemed like no time. I kept trying to pleasure him, but he wouldn’t let me touch him anywhere significant for more than a few seconds at a time. I’d get to slide my fingers in and out of him a couple times, he’d groan and pull my hand away, or I’d get a couple light strokes with his beautiful cock—the satiny feel of which I loved in my hand—and he’d shift out of reach. It was maddening.

  He scooted down to where I could only reach his head and shoulders and sucked my slowly reawakening cock until I gave a tentative thrust of mounting lust. Next thing I knew, he’d slapped a fresh rubber on my hard-on and was straddling me in a reverse cowgirl. I shoved myself further up onto the pillows so I could recline rather than lie prone and pulled him by his hips toward me.

  He sank down all the way and it was like coming home. He moved and I lost my mind. He was doing some kind of hula gyration with his hips and he was deliberately massaging my shaft with his inner muscles. My long arms gave me the reach I needed to let my hands roam over his stomach and up his chest. I pinched, rubbed, teased, and flicked his nipples. He laid back against my chest, panting and groaning, as his hips added a fresh twist to their dance.

  He reached behind us and grabbed the pipes of the headboard to either side of my head. I slipped my left hand down his side, hoping he’d let me touch him now. I wrapped my fingers around the foot of his pole and squeezed.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as his back arched.

  I jacked him hard and fast, trying to match the pace he’d set, using my thumb to grab the droplets of precum that oozed from his angry purple helmet. It was awkward, but I managed to get my right hand down to roll his testicles between my fingers. The brittle ball of tension in the pit of my stomach could shatter at any second.

  Oliver’s cries of pleasure took on a new urgency as his cock grew stiffer in my gliding grip and his balls hardened. I pressed my fingertips into the soft spot behind his sack and rubbed in circles. He stilled entirely, not even breathing, back arched.

  The most amazing and erotic thing I’ve ever experienced happened then. All at the same instant, I saw his groin muscles pulsate, felt his cock throb in my fist and his inner muscles milked the entire length of my shaft. If I hadn’t been hanging on the ragged edge of orgasm, I’d’ve come from that anyway.

  “Oh…fuck wow,” I gasped, thrusting helplessly into him.

  He spewed a string of sticky pearls between my fingers as I shot into his caressing heat. I kept my hips going as best as I could until he was done. I was shaking when the last of his orgasm passed and he collapsed on me. We lay gasping and shuddering like landed fish.

  “Fuck a duck,” I exclaimed softly.

  “Goddamn, I needed that,” he sighed. I helped him shift to lie beside me. We both groaned as I popped free of his tight embrace.

  He grabbed a damp towel from the nightstand I hadn’t seen before and began cleaning me up. When he was about to clean himself I took the towel and did it for him, licking up a couple of the splatters since I hadn’t gotten to taste him today.

  “Mmm…s’nice,” he murmured, playing with my hair. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, mildly, “I mean, that was your first time, um—um—”

  I looked up, flashing him a grin. He was so cute when he was trying to be tactful. “Fucking a man?” Teasingly, I shrugged and said, “It was…different.”

>   He smacked the top of my head, though not hard, and laughed. “You loved it, didn’t you?”

  I crawled up his body to curl against him and kissed him. “It was transcendent, and you were stellar. I couldn’t have wished for better than you,” I admitted, tangling my legs with his. I rested my head on his shoulder. “Only you didn’t give me a chance to rim you. I’m dying to give that a try.”

  He looked skeptical as he pulled the covers over us and I wondered why. “Next time,” he said while I snuggled in tighter and wrapped my arms around him. I settled my left hand on his hip.

  We fit together with perfection, in a way only two halves of a whole could do. The image of a filigree heart cast in gold—broken in half, like the pendants lovers give to each other—came into my mind, superimposed over Oliver and I, as I floated in semi-sleep. I knew I would have to put this image on canvas.

  “Can’t believe you picked me,” Mister Impulse muttered right before I drifted off.

  I woke later, feeling warm and comfortable. My head lay pillowed on Oliver’s chest. The sound of his heart throbbed in my ear, strong and steady, just like him. My happiness at that moment was near perfect. Extricating myself with care, I pooled the sheet in a strategic fashion about his hips, leaving his chest, one leg and part of another bare.

  I went to the bathroom to relieve myself, then dug into my backpack, which I’d stashed in the linen cupboard early this morning. I pulled out a large sketchpad and a pencil box, went and grabbed one of the dinning chairs and hauled it into the other room. I set the chair next to the bed without making a sound.

  I climbed up onto the seat, sat on the back to elevate myself for a downward view, and flipped to a fresh page. Picking a pencil, I considered. He lay on his back, turned toward me, lips parted. His hand lay near his face, fingers curled like the stems of fiddlehead ferns unfurling. I put all this in with quick, broad strokes; his strong neck, curving with the twist of his head to his broad, muscle-padded shoulders; his arms, corded with strength even in sleep; hands strong, yet so loving; his large, square pecs dusted with hair, nipples erect in the cool air.