by Ella James
He hands me a glass of scotch, and I drink some of that. Then he rolls me over and straddles my lap, kissing me with his lips…then his slick tongue. He pinches my nipples and he rubs our cocks together.
“Trust me, it feels so good,” he says.
I lie back and spread my knees apart, and he licks my balls until it’s torture. Then he drags his tongue around my hole. I couldn’t eat a thing all day, so I’m empty and ready. He gives me a finger first. I shudder as I take it.
“That’s right. God, I’m so hard. I think I might come quicker than you do.”
More lube, and another finger. A low groan comes from my throat. I’m rocking my cock into the air. His hand teases my tip. “That’s right…ride my fingers. Let me…”
“Ahhhhhhhh.”
He hits the sweet spot. I can feel warm cum spill down my shaft as he plays.
My groans fill the room. He’ll graze me there, and back off, making me arch and bear down for more.
“Okay. I think we’re good.” He removes his fingers, and I feel a pressure. As he works the plug in, I growl and clutch his shoulder. I spread my legs…clench around it. Then another hoarse moan rips from my throat.
“You good, buddy?”
I can only grunt. His hand is stroking my knee. He’s between my legs now.
“Let me lick you.” I can tell he’s feeling it, because his words quake.
His tongue moves gently around my rim a few times. He pushes the plug’s base, and I’m oozing. He licks my shaft clean and repeats.
“OHHHHH.”
“That’s right. Let me have that big dick. I can suck it for you.”
He starts the vibration—just a low buzz—but it’s too much. I’m tugging his hair and moaning. I can barely move. I start to tremble. Everything.
“You’re all good, Sky. I’m about to come on your leg, though.”
He lowers his balls and cock down to my thigh, and then he rocks his hips back as his tongue laves my head. The plug tilts a little as I clench around it, and I come to the sensation of his hot spend pumping onto my knee.
I fall asleep. When I wake up, we go to the tub and he works it out.
My legs are shaking when we step back onto the bath rug. He pulls me against him, wrapping one big arm around my shoulders.
“Have you eaten dinner?”
“No.” I find I can’t look at him.
“You want something?”
He brushes his lips over my cheek. When I don’t answer, he shifts gears. “Let’s get some clothes.” He goes through my drawers and gets sleep pants, boxer-briefs, and soft, long-sleeved shirts for us both.
While he does this, I climb back into the bed, unclothed. My eyelids shut like they’re lead-weighted. “I just want to sleep.”
A minute later, he crawls up behind me. Comes under the covers…scoots in close and wraps an arm around me.
“Sky?” His words are soft against my neck and shoulder. “You feel sick?” His hand is gentle on my back.
I shrug. Then I turn around, because I want to hold him. I inhale near his neck. He smells so good. His hand’s in my hair, his lips soft and smooth against my forehead.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. What can I do?”
I try to breathe more deeply. So I’ll feel less like I can’t. He wraps his leg and both his arms around me.
“You’re okay, Sky baby.”
My lungs do a full stop. His hand strokes my back.
“They’re voting,” I croak, “in two weeks. On gay shit.”
His hand stills. “What do you mean?”
“Whether to move toward affirming.”
“The church board of elders? I saw on the display screens that the meeting was this afternoon. That’s how I knew to come check on you.”
I nod.
“Dammit. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s my fault.” My heart pounds as I say that out loud. “I’m the one who let it get like this. I was…scared.”
“You mean to lose your job and go out in a blaze of headline news hell? Jesus, Sky. Of course you are. The weird thing would be if you weren’t.”
I shake my head. I can’t find the words to explain. When I get like this, I always lose the words. Underwater. I hold onto him so that I won’t keep sinking.
I don’t even notice that I’m hyperventilating until his hand comes behind my head, pushing my face against his chest.
“Hey…” Through the fog, I feel his hand move over my back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Somehow, he pulls me closer. “My Sky.” His lips press to my hair. My chest and shoulders sort of shiver—how they always do when this happens—and I feel dizzy. Too cold.
His mouth covers mine. I don’t even see or feel it coming. It’s a quick, soft kiss…and then another. Another, and I gasp air in from his lungs…and feel a thick wave of calm move through me.
“Carbon dioxide,” he murmurs.
That’s the way he brings me down—with soft, warm, perfect kisses. I don’t know how long we do it, but at last I see his face. I see his eyes—they’re watchful on me—and I taste his mouth. I feel how close our bodies are…the way his leg is pushed between mine.
I wrap him against me, and we lie back on the bed. I’m so tired now. That’s the way it always is. The tired, and then the really bad dark.
His lips brush along my jaw.
“You’re the strongest fucker I know.”
I don’t even know how I feel until I’m half asleep against him. It drifts to me in the ethereal trappings of a dream. The word is good.
19
Vance
I don’t know what it’s like to be Luke, but I think it might be like living as a Russian nesting doll. He’s got a lot of layers of protection. When one of the outer layers cracks, there’s a backup layer underneath, but he’s lost something vital in the process. I don’t even know if he knows what’s at the center, so when he loses a bit, he feels real fear. He won’t take the layers apart on his own, ever—because he’s not sure what lies beneath. Or maybe he’s got an idea, but to him, what’s at the center seems bad, wrong.
I think the problem with burying parts of yourself is that the soil never holds. Life and stress, desire and heartache, till the soil, churning until those parts find a way back to the surface.
These aren’t things that he can say. Too much of him is in that center capsule, all locked up. The only way for me to know was to witness the layer sloughing off. Because I did—because luck or fate or God or something brought me over that night—everything after seems different.
It’s the last Thursday in April when he comes over at 6:30 PM with vegan tacos. He grins when he walks into the townhouse living room. His hair looks windblown, and he’s got on jeans, a pink Polo, and Chucks.
“Hey, dude.” I’m on the couch, barefoot in my boxer briefs—all the easier for him to fuck me—but I get up to hug him.
“Shit. I missed this today.”
He hugs me hard. “Yeah,” he says against my cheek, “the college students sucked.”
It makes me laugh to hear him say that. I pull back so I can see his face. “Did they really?”
He gives me a deadpan look. I kiss his cheek. “I think you’re lying.”
He walks me back, then shoves my shoulders lightly as his eyes run over me. “I think you want to be had.”
I laugh, and his teeth catch my throat.
“Mr. Rayne. You’ve been a very bad man.”
I roll with it, because hell yeah, I fucking have been. I’m hard enough to hurt by the time he locks my arms above my head and straddles me on the bed upstairs.
“What should I do to you, Vance?”
“I don’t know.” I’m lying, though. As I say it, I’m lifting my hips, making my erection bob. His hand closes around it. “Bouncing around, are we? Maybe you would like to bounce on something else.”
“Or maybe you would.” I stroke him through his
jeans. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe not, though…”
“What?” I ask softly.
There’s this kink club in San Francisco. Years ago, I went there with this girl I know—to whip her.
“I don’t even know if this place is still open.” I unzip his jeans, and his thick cock bobs down and out, straining at his boxer briefs. I work my palm around his head, and he pumps me, too.
“What kind of place?”
“It’s this masked fuck place. Might be way too risky, but you wear hoods. Like, everybody does. It’s really strict.”
He moves off me and zips himself up. “Yeah, I know of that place. Switch.” He says the word like it’s something ominous, which makes me smile.
“How do you know of it, choir boy?”
Color stains his cheekbones. I laugh, delighted. “Have you been there?”
He gives me a deadpan look.
“Do you think it’s safe for you to go?”
Luke
It isn’t safe, of course, but nothing is now. And I want to go out with him. The biggest question is whether my gait and build are recognizable with my face covered. I don’t think they are.
“What is it like there?” I ask. “Private rooms?”
His brows lift, like he’s surprised I would even know to ask that question.
“There are. Yeah. That’s what we should do, if we go.”
We’re in the Prius twenty minutes later, both wearing black shirts and pants, with a bag in the backseat of the car. Vance’s jeans are so tight, I can see the outline of his cockhead as he drives.
“You going in that way?” I nod at it.
He gives me a lazy grin. “You want to show me off?”
The opposite is true. I don’t want any eyes on him but mine. I don’t say that, though. If he thinks I’m jealous, when he goes back to New York, he might avoid having his picture taken. I want to see pictures of him. I need every picture, even though I know that it will make me sick.
He parks two blocks away from the club and pulls the bag he packed into his lap while I pull on the mask he wears when he’s around paint fumes. It’s kind of like an N95 mask, but it’s made of fabric. Lots of people wear them on public transport abroad.
“Will you be recognized?” I ask him. I hadn’t thought of that.
He takes my hand and gives me a smile. “Nah. I’m not that big time.”
What I want to ask him is how many times he’s been here. And with whom. His hand squeezes mine, though, and I let myself just be in the moment, next to him.
We walk down the street, past someone juggling neon balls and some people sitting at some kind of booth. It’s busy for a Thursday night. We weave between people, keeping shoulder to shoulder. I think of him leaving the club that night I called from Tokyo…walking toward his house. I squeeze his hand, and his eyes move over my face.
“You look dashing in that mask, Sky.”
He looks dashing. His hair’s chin length, and tonight, the breeze tosses it back behind him. Time has hardened his features, made him even more beautiful. His chiseled features make him look a little like he could be a model. But they’re not what I like most. He gives me another small smile, and his free hand reaches over to close over our joined ones.
“All good, my dude?” he murmurs.
“Yeah.”
The club is in an unadorned building. We enter through a door in the back and step into a dimly lit hall. Within seconds, a woman in a black teddy and a cat mask appears, holding a tablet.
Her eyes move over Vance…and then fix on me. I think I can see her brows clench behind her mask. For a second, I think I might lose it. Then she hands us both hoods.
“Where would you like to go, sirs?”
I realize she was assessing us to see if one’s the sub.
“We’d like a private room on floor one, if you have one open.” Vance hands her something; I realize later it was his card.
“Of course. Follow me.” Her bottom peeks out from beneath the teddy’s silky fabric. Vance’s eyes are on me. I give him a smile behind my hood as she leads us through a steel door, down another hall, and into a large room that makes my pulse kick up a notch. There are groups of people—doing I don’t know what, because I don’t look. She takes us down another hall, past windows and doors, before stopping in front of a door and pressing a combination into its lock.
“If you want to open the session for viewers, press the button by your two-way windows. Otherwise, the space is yours and private until 3 AM.”
She leaves, and I blink at the space. It looks like the club I went to a few times in Manhattan with a woman I was seeing my last year of college. She liked to be tied up and teased. I could take Viagra and the smallest bit of molly before sessions there—because they had a start time. I wore leather pants and made her come so much, she barely noticed if I did.
Vance pulls his hood off and sets his bag up on the leather table. “I brought something. If one of us want to…” He unzips the pack and pulls a plastic baggie from one of its pockets.
Molly.
“Do you know what this is?”
I laugh. “I’m a pastor, not a child.”
He smirks, and rolls his eyes. “These are weak stuff. I cut one up into fifths so you could get a little kick but not get a hangover. Only if you want, though.”
I pull off my hood and move the mask aside—and take it.
“Get up on the table, Rayne.”
I tie him up and clamp his nipples. Then I rid him of his pants and boxer-briefs and work a plug into him.
“Fuck.” It’s just a soft grunt. Chills move over his body. Sensitive. I love it. I take my time torturing him with the plug. He complains his abs are sore. I grin as I lick cum off his cock. Then I pull the thing out.
I check out the room’s equipment. There are a few stretchy cock rings—two with protrusions meant to be perineum massagers.
I oil him and work one around his cock. Then I do the same to myself. I turn on the vibration—his first, then mine—and my knees nearly buckle. Makes my dick so hard it hurts. A warm flush moves through my body, and it bubbles out of me in a laugh, surprising me. The molly. I end up hunched over him, licking him as I lean on the table. I focus and take him on a ride with the vibration of his toy. He’s shaking so hard…moaning. He comes, and my cock throbs. I tug at my ring, but my hands are sort of shaky. I don’t know if I can get it off.
“Sky. You feeling it?”
“A little maybe.”
He gets off the table, and I get on. Bursts of pleasure move through my limbs. My chest is so warm. I feel him doing something, and I groan before my senses catch up to the fact that he’s got the toy on. It’s thumping against my prostate from the outside.
I’m groaning as he pulls the thing off. He rubs my balls and pushes one slick finger slowly into me. He rubs a few times, and I’m arching off the table, shouting at how good it feels.
“I want…more.” He strokes my cock, and just that makes me shiver. “Vance. I want you.”
His eyes hold mine, and I nod.
20
Vance
I take my time getting him ready. Shit, the molly’s really on him. Small dose, but his cheeks are flushed. His eyes are glazed. Little shivers jerk through him when I touch him just so. I tease him for a while, enjoying the variety of accessories hung on the wall. Then, when he’s rock hard and seems a fraction clearer, I push two fingers inside him and watch as he tries to fuck them.
“You sure, man?”
“I wanna feel you.”
“You feel good?” I stand up by his head and smooth my cool palms over his cheeks.
His green eyes are burning. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” I test things by kissing him. He kisses back just like he always does, and then he’s panting after. Perfect. Not out of character, just more sensitive. I allow myself a brief grin that I got the dose right; he’s still hard and doesn’t seem too overheated.
I give him some water, and then
fold some things out to expand the table so it’s more a cot, and we can both fit up there. Then I climb atop him, rubbing us together…then pushing my fingers back into him.
He thrusts.
“You good?”
He grips chin and lifts my face so he can see me. “Give me what I’m asking you for, Mr. Rayne.”
I laugh. “Oh…it’s on.”
Who knew he was such a switchy boy? Fuck, this is hot…
My hands tremble as I coat the both of us with lube. Then I’m between his legs, and I’m so hard I’m aching.
“I’m gonna take it slow. You need more water?”
“I need you.” His hand squeezes his erection. Then he opens his eyes. He looks at my face as I push up against his rim.
“You ready?”
His eyes shut. He nods…and my knees quake as I push—hard then with a sort of thrust—and then I’m partway in him and he groans. He tries to lift his hips, and I push deeper.
“Ohhh.” His whole body shakes below me. His green eyes are stretched wide.
“You okay?” It feels so fucking good inside him, my eyes want to roll back in my head.
I rock just a little deeper, and he moans—and I can’t tell if it’s good. I change the angle, pushing in a little differently, and that’s when he starts to really lose it.
“Oh God…Vance. I—” His face comes undone, and I can feel him coming in the way his muscles lock up. I thrust deeper, so I’m buried, and we blow together.
I’m half laughing as I come to, still lit up from how good that felt…and from knowing that he let me inside. I ease out slowly, and his hand reaches for me.
“Vance?” His voice is shaky, his eyes half shut.
“Yeah?”
His eyes open fully, finding mine. “I love you.”
As soon as he says it, he sits up. His glazed eyes move around the room, then fix on my face. “Can we go?”
“Yeah. You want to go now?”
He nods. He won’t look at me as we both clean up and put the room to rights. We put our hoods on, and I clasp his hand as we move into the hall.
