by Jane Davitt
Nick’s heart skipped a beat, and he moved up along John’s body to kiss him again, feeling John’s cock pressed against his own clothed hip. “I scared you?”
“I thought ‑‑” John closed his eyes, screwing up his face in an oddly endearing way, and then opened them and met Nick’s worried look without flinching. “Thought you’d changed your mind. Didn’t want me. And as it was what I’d been telling myself might happen the whole time I was away, it didn’t take much to have me feeling that way.” He shook his head, reaching out to touch Nick’s face briefly. “And it wouldn’t be strange if you did feel like that. You’re still grieving, and I’d wonder if you weren’t.”
Nick kissed John again. “There isn’t any part of me that doesn’t want you.” It was the truth. That part, at least, was simple. Everything else he could think about later, when he didn’t ache from wanting John. “Come upstairs? Come to bed with me.”
“At least this time you didn’t wait to ask me that until I was past caring where we were as long as we were touching.” John glanced down at himself and grinned. “Only just though ...”
They stood and made their way up the stairs, John’s hand warm in Nick’s. The light was still on in the book room, and John glanced inside. The diary was still lying on the floor, open. They paused by the doorway. “I think it was my grandmother’s. Recipes and things. She liked lavender.” Nick’s thoughts seemed disconnected, separate from his body, which was still emphatically insisting it get what it wanted.
“Aye? They grow lots of it on Mull. Not here, though.” John didn’t comment further, letting Nick lead him into the main bedroom and then kicking the door shut behind him. The slam of it closing was as emphatic as the kiss Nick got a moment later, with John’s mouth demanding and insistent as if the short break had driven his arousal higher.
Nick groaned against John’s lips, more loudly than the physical situation warranted but just right for the erotic pictures and sensations that were going through his head ‑‑ the imagined feel of John’s bare skin against his own, the imagined sight of John standing naked and erect before him. He slid his hand inside John’s pants and touched his cock lightly before sliding down onto his knees, working fabric down over John’s narrow hips and nuzzling at his balls, feeling John tense and gasp above him. “I want to taste you,” Nick whispered, looking up at John. “Want to suck you.”
“Do it, then.” John leaned back against the closed door as if he needed its support. “God, will you do it before I’m the one on my knees?”
Nick licked John’s balls, mouthed at them, and then ran his lips up along the shaft until he reached the tip before taking John into his mouth completely, focusing most of his attention on the head as he sucked. When he glanced up, he could see that John’s head had fallen back against the door, his eyes closed, breath harsh. It made Nick want to do more; want to do everything. He wanted John to press him up against the wall from behind and fuck him, and he moaned at the thought even as he sucked harder.
And John’s hands slipped around his head, large, warm hands, work-roughened and strong, holding him still, as if that was all the signal he needed.
“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop.” John pushed away from the door and rubbed his thumbs slowly along Nick’s temples as he waited for Nick to adjust to the change in position. Nick didn’t bother pulling his head away to answer. It hadn’t really been a question anyway.
John began to fuck Nick’s mouth with lazy, slow thrusts that gave Nick time to breathe and swallow, time to swirl his tongue over the small slit in the head of John’s cock, catching each drop of pre-come as it welled up and spilled, time to get used to the difference after years of doing this to another man.
He wasn’t comparing them, because he couldn’t think of anyone but John right then, but Nick found himself automatically doing to John what Matthew would’ve liked and then catching himself and stopping, frustration making him lose the rhythm they’d found, so that it wasn’t entirely unexpected when John made a small, pained sound and stopped because Nick had scraped him too deeply with his teeth for it to be anything like pleasurable.
“Sorry.” Nick pulled back, frustrated and disgusted with himself. “I’m not ... I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t have blamed John for deciding to put a stop to this right then, under the circumstances, and that left him feeling empty and bleak.
John sank down on his knees and put his hands back where they’d been on Nick’s head, holding him in place. John looked concerned rather than annoyed, his gaze traveling over Nick’s face anxiously. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to.” He moved one hand to Nick’s shoulder, kneading it gently, and brushed his fingers across Nick’s lips, barely skimming them. “Or did you stop because you thought you’d hurt me?” John sounded as if he hoped that was the reason.
Because he really didn’t want to go into what lay behind his ineptitude, Nick nodded, rewarded by an instant look of relieved comprehension on John’s face.
“It wasn’t that bad ‑‑ and you were in the perfect position to kiss it better, you know.” A small grin lightened John’s expression even more.
Nick wished that he was better at this. Not just fucking, because when it came right down to it he didn’t think he was all that bad at that, but the relationship thing. It had never worked with Matthew, and he’d always known that it was his fault. Matthew had wanted it; Nick was the one who’d always held him at arm’s length, keeping him from getting too close.
And this wasn’t the time to explain about any of that, but Nick didn’t have any other words.
“Right,” John said when Nick didn’t respond to his joke. “We’re back to the thinking too much, are we?” He sighed and stood up, dragging his shirt over his head, his words momentarily muffled. “I’m getting in that bed you seem so keen on using.” His shirt landed on the floor close to where Nick was still kneeling, although he’d twisted around to watch John. “And I’m hoping you’ll join me, or I’ll feel obliged to get out and go back to the couch, as I won’t take your own bed from you.” His jeans hit the floor with a louder thud and Nick got a glimpse of him naked ‑‑ and still hard ‑‑ before John pulled back the covers and got into bed. “And if I’ve taken your side, you’ve only got yourself to blame for it,” he added, giving his pillow an irritable thump before shoving it behind his head.
A little uncertain if John was genuinely upset, Nick got up and started to undress. The long sleeved T-shirt he’d put on earlier was first to go, baring his chest in the cool room and more than aware of John’s eyes on him. “I’ve only slept here one night.” He undid his pants and shoved them down over his hips almost defiantly. “I don’t have a side yet.” Nick kicked his feet free of his pants and moved over to the bed, getting in next to John and resting a hand on John’s chest. “And I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.”
“Then will you just come here and ‑‑ God ‑‑” John gave up talking with a despairing look that was almost comical ‑‑ and since Nick was still finding it hard to tell when John was serious or not, that might’ve been intentional ‑‑ and pulled Nick down on top of him, kissing him with an intensity that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, his hands skimming down Nick’s back to his ass with an impatience that didn’t stop them from feeling good.
Then he did it again, more slowly, dragging his nails from Nick’s shoulders down, never taking his eyes off Nick’s face. “Now you look like you did in the kitchen. As if you’re thinking of what you want to do with me and nothing else. And if you knew what you looked like right now, you’d know why I’m always going to say yes to you.”
Nick shuddered, his cock getting harder against John’s thigh as he leaned down to kiss him. He meant to say something; to reassure John that he really did want him, to apologize for being so fucked up. But as soon as their lips touched, Nick was lost in the kiss, in the taste of John’s mouth and the feel of his body. “God,” he whispered, throwing himself into the next kiss, and then the next. He s
hifted, taking some of his weight onto his arms, and dragged his cock up along John’s.
John’s head moved restlessly on the pillow, matching his hands which were roving over Nick’s body in eager, almost hungry sweeps. In the dimness of the room, lit only by the last traces of the daylight that lingered at this time of the year, he was a shadowy figure, indistinct as the ghosts. For a single wild moment, Nick wondered if he was; a ghost conjured up from his loneliness and guilt-tinged grief. Then John’s teeth dug into his shoulder as their cocks nudged again and the sharp, sweet pain drew him back to the present.
“John.” It was a barely more than a groan, but if he’d been a religious man at all he might have called it a prayer. They rocked together slowly, their breathing uneven, John’s mouth licking and biting at the skin of Nick’s collarbone and throat before finding his lips again.
Nick couldn’t remember ever being so hard. Well, maybe years before, when he’d been sixteen and he and Matthew had first discovered sex. But their innocent fumbling hadn’t been anything like this. This was heat ‑‑ despite the fact that he was shivering ‑‑ and painful desire, the coming together of two bodies that knew the kinds of pleasure they were capable of and sought to find it with each other. He could feel the head of his cock painting a damp trail the length of John’s shaft with each stuttered upward drag, and he let out a little, startled moan when John’s tongue flickered over his again.
“Will you lie back?” John whispered against his lips. “Let me take you in my mouth, let me fuck you?”
Nick’s erection throbbed painfully and he whimpered against John’s lips, kissing him three, four times more before he could answer. “Yes.”
John rolled them over so that Nick was the one underneath, John’s delicious weight bearing down on him, solid and warm. Any lingering shivers died away when John kissed him, fingers rubbing over his nipple and making him gasp into John’s mouth.
He felt John’s leg slide between his and nudge them apart, the shift in position alone enough to make his breath quicken. John met his eyes and smiled at him before taking Nick’s hand in his and bringing it to his mouth, separating out Nick’s middle finger and capturing it between his thumb and finger, running them along it slowly before taking it into his mouth as he’d done earlier.
Nick’s hips jerked instinctively, his cock feeling the echo of each teasing lick, bite and suck, and John’s eyes closed for a moment in response, letting Nick’s finger slip free as he rubbed against Nick, groaning softly.
“God, you’re so ‑‑” The bed heaved beneath Nick as John rose up to kneel between his legs, the covers sliding off his back. “-- distracting,” John finished, grinning down at him. “But I’m a single-minded man.”
He moved back a little and then put his hands on either side of Nick’s hips and leaned forward, so that the only point of contact between them was John’s tongue as he dragged it slowly up Nick’s cock, doing that half a dozen times before finally bringing his hand across to hold it.
The warm circle of John’s fingers was tight around the base of his cock, and John’s mouth was just as tight around the tip, sucking hard for a moment before opening his mouth wider to take Nick inside.
Nick’s breathing, already quicker than normal, sped up even more as John’s lips, hot and wet and perfect, slid down his shaft. He wanted to stay still, but he couldn’t not push up into that slick heat. He tangled a hand in John’s short hair, which was soft under his palm, and threw his head back as John sucked at him. “God, John. Oh fuck that’s good.”
He trembled and licked his own lips, which were suddenly dry. His chest felt tight with arousal, his skin tingling.
John lifted his head and stared up at him, his eyes glazed over. He brought his hand up, smoothing it over the spit-wet skin of Nick’s cock, never taking his eyes off Nick’s face, working his cock with slow, forceful jerks of his wrist that left Nick on the edge of coming.
Nick bit down hard on his lip, his fingers tightening around a fistful of John’s hair, any words, even “please,” lost in the need for John to go back to what he’d been doing.
John’s head dipped suddenly and Nick cried out as the firm pressure of John’s hand disappeared, replaced by the soft, fluid wrap of his mouth, with John’s tongue sensuous and hot against him.
“John ... oh God ...” Nick panted, writhing every part of his body but the part he most wanted to move, desperately on the edge of coming and trying to hold off because he wasn’t sure what John wanted. He grabbed onto a handful of blanket and tried to concentrate on the rough scratch of the wool. “John. I can’t ‑‑”
John shifted slightly, without ever stopping what his tongue and teeth were doing, and slipped his hands under Nick’s ass, wordlessly encouraging him to move, to push up into the warm haven of John’s mouth.
His hips thrust up once, twice, three times, each shove accompanied by a low, breathy cry, and Nick came, gasping John’s name and tipping his head back so that the air rasped in his throat. He could feel, dimly, John’s mouth encouraging him, but that sensation was faint compared to what his own body was doing, which apparently was attempting to turn itself inside out through his cock in a glorious flare of ecstasy.
John’s mouth tightened on him as he swallowed, triggering a final surge, and then Nick fell back, his eyes closed, dizzy with pleasure, and so utterly spent that when John’s mouth left him, with a slow, gentle drag of his tongue across exhausted flesh as a grace note, he couldn’t even whimper.
The bed shifted and John came to lie beside him, his arm a comforting weight across Nick’s chest, his body snuggled up against him. John kissed Nick’s shoulder, making a small, appreciative sound but not seeming in any rush to talk.
He focused on breathing for a minute or so, wondering if John could feel the fierce pounding of his heart. He reached down and found John’s hand with his own, bringing it up to rest on his chest. “Feel that?”
“Mm.” John’s mouth was against Nick’s shoulder. There was a questioning sound to it.
“That’s because of you.” Nick turned his head and smiled at John, then shifted onto his side and curled his hand around John’s cock, making him groan softly.
“And that’s because of you.” John nuzzled into Nick’s neck. “Although the way I felt when you came, I’m surprised it’s still in that state.” He lifted his head and smiled at Nick wonderingly. “You don’t hold back at all, you know that? It’s all there on your face, and the way you move, those sounds you make ‑‑ Christ, I could come just from listening to you.”
“As long as I’m not pronouncing stuff wrong,” Nick teased gently. He moved his hand, stroking John’s cock and watching as his eyes closed and his lips parted. “I’d say I’m hoping you still want to fuck me, but I don’t have anything. No condoms, nothing. I wasn’t exactly thinking I was going to need them out here.”
John tensed up; not much, but enough that Nick couldn’t miss it given how close they were, and then relaxed. “I’m thinking you weren’t a Boy Scout then? Or do they not have them in America?”
“They do, but I wasn’t.” Nick had never been anywhere for long enough to join anything like that.
“Well, neither was I, but I’ve still got a couple of condoms in the back pocket of my jeans.” John shrugged. “Wouldn’t matter if anyone found them, after all. But lube, no, I’d never buy that here, or keep any around.” He smiled a little sourly. “What would any decent man be wanting it for anyway? But it doesn’t matter ‑‑” His hand came down over Nick’s and squeezed it briefly so that Nick’s fingers tightened around John’s cock. “Not when you’re touching me like this.”
Part of Nick wanted to insist that they go in search of something ‑‑ maybe there was some lotion in the bathroom, for instance ‑‑ but he was comfortable and warm and he didn’t really want to get out of bed, not even if it meant being able to feel John’s cock pushing its way inside him. So he kissed John, just once more, and then slid down underneath the covers. �
�I think we can make do for now.” He licked John’s balls and felt them tighten. “As long as we can get some in the next couple of days. Because I don’t want to have to wait much longer than that for you to fuck me.”
John groaned.
Closing his eyes, Nick started a slow stroking of John’s cock with his hand from just below the head all the way down to the base of the shaft. He took just the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around to wet it, and then sucked hard. There was nothing teasing about this. He didn’t want to draw it out or to make John wait. He wanted to bring John off in his mouth, to taste him, to hear him cry out with pleasure and know that he’d been the cause of it.
He felt John’s hand on his head, lightly at first and then, as he took John deeper, John’s fingers clenched, drawing Nick’s hair into his grasp before they relaxed. “Oh God.” John’s hips jerked forward helplessly. “Oh, yes ... God.”
Nick felt the tip of John’s cock nudge the back of his throat and eased back just a little, lapping at the slick head eagerly when he could, breathing in a scent that aroused him more than he’d expected, even if, right then, he wasn’t capable of a physical response.
But it lent an urgency to what he was doing, and for all that his body was still tingling from coming hard enough that he’d practically forgotten how to breathe, he needed John’s release as much as he’d needed his own.
He wasn’t sure what he did that sent John over, but there was a moment of stillness as John froze, his cock deep in Nick’s mouth, and then John gasped, “Nick ‑‑” in an anguished sob and came, his cock hardening and then pulsing against Nick’s tongue, his hand dropping to Nick’s shoulder and gripping it tightly.
Nick pulled back enough so that he could get more than a hint of the taste of it, swallowing and sucking again, but more gently now as John shuddered and gasped his way to a release that seemed all too brief to Nick. He waited until John relaxed all at once, sagging down into the mattress, to let go of his cock and move up to kiss him. That was brief, too, since John was still trying to get his breath back and Nick could sympathize with how that felt. He stroked his hand along John’s side and back, memorizing how skin lay over firm muscle, marveling at how different John felt from what he was used to.