by Jules Jones
“Big enough to satisfy you, and that’s all you need to know.” And he started to thrust. Charles yelped again, then moaned, and then settled for variations on the theme of, “Oh, yes, mmm, like that, more.”
He gave Charles what he asked for, and more, grabbing at any bit of Charles he could conveniently reach, and some he couldn’t, then making Charles lift his hips for a moment so he could get one hand around Charles’s cock. Charles was big, too, a lovely hot handful of flesh. A lovely hot armful as well, all that strength and power under him, begging for more of his cock, more of his touch. None of it faked, oh, no, Charles wanted him, and so he gave all he could. Hard thrust, hard tug, and a hard nip on Charles’s shoulder; and Charles yelped and came.
Glorious tight squeezing around his cock, not quite enough but almost there. Then Charles said, “You bit me,” in such shocked tones, almost a squeak, and John laughed and said, “I warned you, Charles.” And Charles said, “But I liked it,” as if he still couldn’t believe it, and that was enough for John. Charles had offered him not just the physical sensation of a nice body under him and tight squeezing around his cock, but the emotional response that he craved. It made Charles his own for a few moments, and Charles was openly acknowledging that, bewildered but not ashamed by it. It didn’t matter that it was only a little mark, something that wouldn’t even count to most people.
John slammed into Charles and came, burying his face in Charles’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of his skin. John held Charles, clung to Charles, as the tremors swept through him; felt his cock pulse as he tried to pour himself entirely into Charles. Then it ebbed away at last, and he let go and rolled off Charles to lie next to him.
Charles took hold of his hand, and they lay quietly for some minutes, not moving, not speaking. Finally, Charles shifted, turning over to look at him. “When you said you liked leather, I thought you meant…”
“I did.”
“But that wasn’t exactly what I thought it was about.”
“It wasn’t. I said that I liked it. Not that I needed it. And you play well enough for a beginner.” A thought struck him. “You are a beginner, aren’t you?”
“Never even knew anyone who was into it,” Charles said. “Or at least I didn’t realise that I knew anyone. Why are you so ashamed of it?”
“Am I?”
Charles stroked his cheek. “Guilty little secret. That’s what you called it, remember? When you thought that I was trying to trap you into admitting it.”
John stared at the ceiling. “Not the sort of thing that’s wanted in someone with a high security clearance, Charles, and the best projects to work on always have a high security clearance.” Bitterness twisted through him. “And I don’t wear the right school tie.”
He expected an oration about how that was the sort of thing Charles wanted to put a stop to, but Charles only put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “I’m sorry, John. The rose was never meant to be anything other than, well, a romantic gesture. I really didn’t have any idea it might have other connotations for you.”
“Well, now, I must have made an interesting mystery for you to unwrap.”
“That was quite some surprise package,” Charles agreed. “Lots of fun.”
“Not what you expected?”
“Not at all. And there’s a question in return. What did you think I was after, when I invited you to dinner? You were so quick to believe that I was trying to expose you.”
“Trying to be friends, so that I would go along blindly with your idiotic schemes. Or trying to seduce me to the same end.” It wasn’t fair and he knew it, but he couldn’t help saying, “You’d like a nice pliable computer expert, one that doesn’t question your views, one that doesn’t question your authority.”
“No, thanks. It’s my black leather rose that I want, thorns and all. Yes, you drive me up the wall, and that’s something I need. Someone I can trust to kick my backside and tell me when I’m being an idiot. Oh, and you’re very good in bed, and that’s something I fear I’ll be needing as well. You, John, not your image of what you think I want. All of you, not just your skill with computers.”
He wished that he could believe it, believe that it wasn’t just another form of manipulation. “Why?”
“Maybe because I can’t resist playing with fire.”
“Not how I’m usually described.” Usually it didn’t bother him, but this time the words burned as he repeated them; he felt the hurt so many had intended to inflict. “Cold, heartless, more of a machine than my computers are.”
“Oh, but ice can burn the unwary, too…” Charles reached for him again, and he went gladly, seeking fire to warm his cold hands by, for a little while at least.
* * * * *
He woke the next morning to an empty bed. Charles was gone. But the hour was late, so it was no wonder. And in Charles’s place there lay a black leather rose, a promise for the future.
Jules Jones
Jules Jones is a materials scientist, whose publications from the day job are probably of interest to at least three people. Following the principle of “write what you know,” most of the erotic romance books are science fiction and fantasy, and even the contemporary romance and erotica often features scientists and engineers.
Jules has several m/m romance books available from Loose Id. They're a mix of standalones, series, and things that weren't intended to be series but seem to have decided that they are. The Syndicate series, a fluffy BDSM gay romantic comedy in space, is co-written with writing partner Alex Woolgrave.
You can find Jules online at http://www.julesjones.com, along with excerpts, sample chapters and free short stories.