by Tom Collins
“Oh, Liam.” I winced, and fought down an urge to creep over and wrap myself around him. “I want to be with you when you paint your first great masterpiece and when you have a gallery opening. I want go to those conventions with you, and maybe with your nuclear family if they’ll let me. When people ask me what my partner does, I want to proudly point to a paperback book and say, ‘He painted that!’ I would kill for the privilege to be with you for all that, and if you give those things to anyone but me, I’ll likely choke to death with envy.”
I caught a breath, realized my hands were fisted and worked to relax. Liam seemed to be holding his breath with me.
“But,” I added carefully, “My mother, my real mother, used to say, ‘If you can’t take care of nice things, you can’t have them.’ You’re the nicest thing I’ve ever been offered, and I…I’m not sure I should have you. You’re brilliant, imaginative, witty, beyond thoughtful and generous, and making love to you is a dream come true.” I sighed. “And then there’s me.”
“Talk about a dream in bed,” he ventured a grin.
“A pretty package, yeah,” I tried to smile back. “But let’s face facts. I don’t read or know enough to match wits with you, to even make good conversation or…or argument with you…I’ve no creativity, a limited education, and I come with a shit-load of emotional baggage and weird issues that I keep tripping over. I’ve been fucking strangers for intimacy. That doesn’t sound like someone who ought to be trusted with anyone as special as you.”
Shit. I was shaking again, feeling weak and weepy. I kept my gaze on my good, bent knee and rubbed at my eyes.
“This is all the crap I was trying to say to you last Friday; but as usual I messed it all up. I still can’t believe how badly. So let me lay it on the table this time: I’ll do whatever you want, be your friend or fuck buddy or lover, but for both our sakes…don’t give into impulse. Think long and hard about it. I want you to succeed and be happy, and it would destroy me if, when we parted, you felt that I’d…wasted your time.”
*Liam*
He was shaking—clearly not from cold—his voice was thick with unshed tears, and he was hiding his face from me. My heart was breaking for him and I itched to comfort him and stop his tears. The wetness that came away on his fingertips when he wiped his eyes gave me physical pain. I had to be certain, however, that what I was hearing was what he was saying.
“So,” I began, choosing my words with care, “you’ll go along with any kind of relationship I want?”
He kept looking at his bad knee, “So long as it’s good for you.” It was a simple statement, without equivocation.
Any kind I wanted?
I’d scooted about a foot away once I had his hair dry and the towel wrapped around his shoulders because I didn’t know if I was still welcome to invade his personal space or not. Now, I couldn’t stand staying away. I struck like a viper. Before he could react, I had him laid back on the mountain of Downey-scented togs, straddling him and ravaging his sweet mouth.
He tasted of chai tea and rain.
I came up for air, losing myself for a moment in eyes that burned for me like Greek fire. The world whirled as he rolled us. His greater weight pressed me half into the soft bed of cloth on which we lay and I happily wrapped my long legs around his thick hips as he devoured my breath.
He kissed over my cheeks, eyes, and forehead, while his hands roamed over my chest and sides. I’d meant to overwhelm him, but he turned the tables, as usual. It was all I could do to hang on for the ride.
His lips felt of the speeding pulse in my temples and traced the line of my jaw through a week’s growth of beard. He caught a bite of whiskers at my chin between his teeth and tugged, growling low in his throat. Chill, electric tingles shot from the roots of my beard, through my stiff nipples, leaving them harder in passing, up my throbbing cock and on down further to whirl around my now quivering hole. My whole body gave a violent shudder and I groaned aloud as my cock pulsed, almost spitting precum. I’d had a mild case of blue balls since he left me in the lurch Friday night and all I could think about was how bad my stones ached.
He lifted himself up off me and, balancing on his good, right knee, tore off my scrub shorts, “These are mine!” he exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise and I blushed hard because he’d caught me red handed hording his stuff. “What did you—? Oh, Liam—” his eyes misted over as he figured out why I’d taken them and he covered me once more with his broad, strong body.
His cold, wet shorts contacting my raging hard on and swollen balls made me gasp from the cold and groan from the pleasure at the same instant.
He jerked back, “I hurt you?”
“What? No…you’re cold.” I reached between us and worked his fly open so I could shove them over his hips along with his pumpkin-colored bikinis. His cock dropped like a log and dangled between us just as hard as mine was. I felt my pupils dilate to take in more light as I stared, held rapt by the one eye staring back up at me.
“This…this isn’t thinking long and hard,” he half–laughed. He sounded almost self-conscious about where I was staring, or worried, as if I might not have taken anything he’d said seriously.
“Oh, yes it is,” I countered, skinning him of his shorts and underwear, tossing them aside. A crystalline bead of moisture welled up like sweet maple sap. The bead swelled, trembling on the verge of dropping, a fluke of physics allowed it to continue thwarting gravity. It shone in the watery, flickering light coming through the box fan, seeming to wink, taunting me to action.
“I’m thinking you need convincing that I can handle you at your very worst,” I said, squirming down under him as if he were a car in for an oil change. I held his hips; his chill, damp flesh pebbled with goose bumps. “I’m thinking you need to see what happens when you lose control…with me.”
I punctuated this by flicking my tongue out and collected the globule with the tip. My taste buds sang a happy tune.
His, “What?” response became a choked yelp, and his cock twitched and the spider silk streamer of precum connecting my lips to his piss slit stretched and shrank. Licking just moved it around, so I whirled my head with my tongue out, trying to wrap it as if it were cotton candy. That worked and I moved on to what I’d been dreaming of for days.
He caught his breath. “Liam, this isn’t a good idea—” he started to say, even as I opened my mouth wide and enveloped him in one swift motion. I knew how amazing the heat of my mouth would feel on his water-chilled skin and the explosion of air from his lungs confirmed it. If he was as starved for me as I was for him, there was no way he’d be able to resist.
He shook over me and his hips curled in, pressing him deeper into my heat. I did my best to accommodate his girth, practically unhinging my jaw the way Uncle Devlin had told me, breathed deep through my nose and pushed all the way down.
He nearly choked and if I could have, I would have laughed. Go wild, Oliver! Come on, you know you want to! I told him in my head.
With my nose buried in his pubes, I filled my lungs with his manly scent. Only now did I realize how much I’d missed his smell. His balls, drawn up tight, whether for warmth or from pleasure I wasn’t sure, rested on my chin. I tugged them with care, pulling them down to a more relaxed position. He muttered and moaned behind his teeth and his cock pulled up against the roof of my mouth triggering my gag reflex.
I swallowed convulsively around his plump, mushroom head and blinked my watering eyes furiously, trying hard to get it back under control. Using my hands on his hips to guide his motion, I encouraged him to pull out then pulled him back in. Sucking and working my tongue over his veined shaft as he slid in and out.
He trembled, breathing like a bellows through his nose. He’d never been so quiet. It had to be because he knew we weren’t alone and because he was fighting to maintain control of himself. It became a sort of game: could he keep quiet, or could I make him give us away to the others? My exhibitionistic streak wanted them to hear.
Re
sorting to dirty tricks, I came off his cock and wriggled further down between his legs. Grabbing hold of his hips once more, I positioned him to suit myself and pulled him to my mouth. I spit in my palm a couple times and stroked him softly, while rolling his nuts in my mouth. I touched his pucker, feeling it flutter like a bird’s heart under the pads of my fingers, and rubbed in tight circles.
I could hear a pressure building deep in his chest, like steam in a kettle, sound that he held in check. He shifted, pulling his gonad from between my teeth and shinnied down my body faster than I would have thought possible.
*Oliver*
The selfish, crazed part of my libido wanted out, and it didn’t help that Liam had deliberately weakened the lock on the cage door. His deep kisses had nearly cracked me, making me pounce on him and start to explore him, as if he were some valuable object I owned, lost, then found again, and now had to check over to make sure it was all right.
God, I’d missed him! and he knew—he had to fucking know—I couldn’t resist him, not nude and sucking me off, like a supplicant begging for my hungry cock. Even if I had two good knees, there was no running from him this time. His sweet mouth warming my cold dick erased all thought, and when he gave the same hot treatment to my balls, with a touch to my starving hole—well, I knew I had to do something or go wild.
Damn him and his whacked ideas! Still, there was one way I might maintain command. Concentrate on him, on his pleasure. Careful of my bad knee, I gathered the tatters of my self-control and determinedly withdrew from that wet, delicious mouth of his. My dick squealed in protest, but I refused to listen.
Quick as I could, I pushed down. My damp t-shirt rolled up and my bare skin felt the velvet of his thick chest hair. His nipples puckered up as my fingers pinched them. I pulled off my tee, and got my mouth on his belly, licking and matting down his wonderful treasure trail with my tongue. His navel fluttered and he groaned. As I’d hoped, his legs parted.
Remaining on my belly, I got my hands where I wanted, there between his hairy thighs and did a kind of push-up on them to help me balance, once again, precariously on my one good knee.
There. My hands trembled with excitement. Of all my favorite parts of Liam, that was my most favorite, the insides of those soft, furry thighs. Digging my shaking fingers into them, I stroked my thumbs against that joint where they connected to the pelvis, brushing past his nuts, which were already high and tight and wrinkled with excitement.
He groaned and squirmed. His tall, beautiful boner had left its sheath and was waving me in. The tip bubbled precum, so handsomely flared and blushing hot red with desire. Damn it! I wanted all of him now, his thighs, his cock, his balls, his ass.
I didn’t know where to start, but start I did, with licks and sucks on the tender insides of his parted thighs. I soaked down the hair until Liam was moaning, his fingers knotted in my hair, jerking me up toward his cock. I nearly lost my balance on the knee.
I went to his balls next. Sucking them, rolling them with my tongue. I expected to feel more in control, but strangely, I felt less. It was like some long lost part of me, hiding away for fear, had come creeping out. It was as wild as the other part, but it wasn’t selfish or angry, fed by some testosterone need to be in power.
It wanted to give pleasure to Liam, wanted to please him. The more I gave, the more that inner part of me came forth.
Liam jerked harder on my hair, hard enough to hurt. I explored under his foreskin with the tip of my tongue, tickling underneath, tasting and inhaling sweaty Liam. Then, as he groaned, I snaked up over his veins, over every inch of his smooth, warm staff to the helmet, which fairly dripped its sweet, musky juices. That made us both whimper, me with wanting to revel in that flavor, he with wanting to fuck my mouth. Oh, please, I thought, let this last.
He let out a shout as I finally took him down. A part of me flinched, remembering that there were the roommates, but now that I had him in my mouth there was no stopping. His cock felt too good gliding down over my tongue and throat.
I slurped and sucked, loving that wonderful slickness his dick took on when coated with saliva. I let my lips enjoy the sensuous feel of his throbbing veins and silky flesh, up slowly to the top. There I paused, pressing my flat tongue up against his crown for a long lick. The deep groan he emitted let me know that the rough-soft feel of my taste buds had sent sensations all the way down to his spine.
I expected to go back down again, to feel his thrust, as he was rocking and I was bobbing. To my shock, his hands in my hair jerked and his released cock slapped my chin as he shoved my head aside.
If I’d been on both knees, I could have stayed where I was, but my good knee, shaking with exhaustion, went down. Liam jerked out from under me, and next thing I knew I was face down on the floor and his hands were on my shoulders. He leapfrogged over me, and suddenly his warm, naked ass was on my back. His furry balls, still wet from my saliva, pooled on my spine. As he leaned forward the tip of his cock teased the very top of my crack.
I groaned, even as his hands started to smooth over my cheeks, kneading them. I understood what he was going to do then, and panicked, trying to buck him off, which got me a shooting pain from my bad knee. I hissed and tried again. Again, my wounded joint punished me and kept me prone.
Fuck me! He had the advantage and we both knew it.
I did the only thing I could do; I tightened up my glutes. He responded to that tactic by leaning down and biting one cheek hard.
“Damn it, Liam!” I shouted.
“Your turn to think, Ollie—” His long body bent far enough to kiss the back of my thighs, heating my blood. “My brother and cousin are here to stop you if need be, and Jillybean’s a hellcat. She would rip your heart out and eat it in front of you if she thought you were hurting me.”
But you’ll see what kind of man I really am, I wanted to scream, and you’ll hate me!
“I’ve had more experience than you in relationships,” he told me firmly, his hands still stroking me, trying to part my ass. “I may be only nineteen, but I know what I’m doing.”
I didn’t know if I was struggling or squirming now. I kept feeling his warm butt on my back, his balls. He stroked me with hands and tongue, opening the cage door, lighting that fire.
“Give in to your impulses for once,” he urged. “Don’t even try to hold back—”
Chapter Thirteen
*Liam*
Oliver didn’t trust himself, or me for that matter, but I had enough faith for both of us.
I remembered the morning I brought him bagels and lox. I’d pushed him against the wall and he’d instantly submitted, letting me have my way with him. Of course, that made sense now that I knew he’d been cruising for sex. Wordless signals are what he was accustomed to, and not gentle ones either. Asking for control wasn’t going to work. I had to take it. If I wanted this lion, I would have to act like a lion in return. I needed to pin him and bite his neck—or his ass in this case. That would bring surrender.
He wasn’t trying to shove me off any longer, and his glutes were relaxing. Is it really that easy? I mused with wonder. I only had to demonstrate what position I wanted to take and he’d give it to me? Just hand it over on a platter, no fussing, and no negotiating?
I couldn’t be that lucky in a lover, I thought, even as I took advantage of my position to enjoy his juicy bubble butt. The big bite I’d taken was going leave a bruise, which I felt guilty about, enough so that I nipped gently around it to say I was sorry. He jerked and grunted and, trembling, parted his legs.
Encouraged, I chewed on his flesh, just to the side of his fuzzy, pink crack. I sucked and scraped my teeth over the sensitive skin, flicking my tongue at random. He squirmed under me, muffling his sounds of pleasure in cloth.
Spreading his cheeks with my hands, I licked the base of his spine, letting my tongue slip deeper and deeper into his crevasse with each pass until I felt the smooth skin crinkle.
Employing tongue, teeth and lips, I ate him with zea
l. His legs spread further and he tilted his hips to bring his hungry hole closer to my consuming mouth. He rode my mustache like he never let himself before, all the while muffling his pleasure in Downy-scented laundry. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw he’d turned my Space Oddity concert shirt into a makeshift gag.
Broaching his ring of muscle with a stiff tongue, I stirred it before lapping in and out with broad, flat strokes the way he liked best. His thigh muscles quivered and he sobbed into my shirt, having lost the battle with himself. He was close.
I fucked him faster with my tongue as wide as I could make it, ignoring the cramp that was setting in. Using my free hand, I rubbed the fat spot behind his high-riding nuts. He jerked David Bowie’s face out of his mouth, gasping like a landed fish. His back was sweaty and I slid as he jerked about. The pent-up sound in his chest broke free and the groan that came up from the pit of his stomach sounded like the building was coming down.
Grinning like a loon, I lapped the full length of his crack once, twice, three times, slow and tender. I had him where I wanted him and now I just needed to keep him there until I could think of what to use for lubrication. I needed something with good viscosity. I didn’t have KY or anything like that, since having foreskin meant I could jack comfortably without any. I did, however, on occasion like a little extra something and had discovered that linseed oil, a staple of any serious oil-worker’s inventory, worked like magic.
I scanned the visible room, searching for where I’d left the bottle, while using spit on my fingers to keep him squirming and needy. I spotted the bottom of the jar peeking out from under the edge of my bathrobe near my right foot. Sitting up, I reached for it and pulled out a cognac colored treasure in an open-mouthed bottle. I turned back to face Oliver’s upturned ass, opened the half-full pot and dipped two fingers in.