by Amy Lane
“Ah!” This time it was Luka who pulled away, his movements jerky. “Yes. That. But in bed. Come.”
He turned and grabbed Crispin’s hand, leading him toward a short hallway with a bathroom at the end and a bedroom on either side.
One bedroom was a child’s room—Crispin could make out dolls and games and a small twin bed through the open door. Luka led him to the other side, a bigger room, dominated by a large bed with a wrought iron headboard that backed up against a window. Luka tugged at the airy white comforter and turned to Crispin, an intent look on his face.
“What?” Crispin asked, lips parted.
“I wanted to see your eyes in the moonlight again.” Luka’s cheeks twitched with what would normally have been a whimsical smile, but his overall expression stayed grave. “So beautiful. You looked at me with those eyes, and I thought, ‘I want them on me tonight.’ It was that simple.”
“My eyes?” Stupid, really, to want to hear more about himself, but God—Luka made him feel extraordinary.
“What was in them. So sweet….” And then, like he couldn’t help himself, Luka captured his mouth again, drew him against his body, their bare skin gliding sensuously. He turned and pushed Crispin back against the bed until he was lying down, head on the pillows, trying to cross his ankles.
Luka laughed, still so gentle. “Are you a virgin?” he asked, with nothing more than interest.
“Not technically.” Crispin rolled to his side, relieved when Luka lay down facing him.
“Define ‘not technically,’” Luka said, running a bold hand down his hip, his outer thigh, then back up to his flank.
“Do I have to?” Crispin hid his face in the pillow. “It’s so embarrassing—I’m so old!”
“And so pretty,” Luka said, leaning close enough to plant a kiss on Crispin’s bicep. “So why are we not fucking like animals?”
Crispin peered up at him through his lashes. “Is that what you want?” he asked, wondering if he even had it in him.
“Eventually, perhaps.” Another kiss along the inside of Crispin’s elbow, which had now become a sensual goldmine because it lit up every other one of Crispin’s nerve endings. “But I have had shy people in my bed before—and they usually yield in the darkness. Why are you hiding in it?”
“He left me,” Crispin said softly. “I let him see me, and he left me.”
“This time,” Luka told him, smoothing the hair back from his eyes, “you will do the leaving. Do you feel cruel about that?”
Crispin shook his head. “No. I feel lucky to be here.”
“I feel lucky to have you here with me.” Luka kissed his forehead and then slid his hand over Crispin’s chest, applying only a little pressure, and Crispin rolled to his back. Luka kissed his mouth again, and Crispin’s hunger seemed to have multiplied tenfold. He opened his mouth wide and arched up, needing to be closer.
Their bodies slid together again, and the throb of need under Crispin’s skin expanded exponentially. Fear of Luka seeing him, the fragility of his heart, the loneliness he tried to deny with every breath, all of it slid away and he succumbed to need.
He needed that next kiss like he needed his next breath.
Luka moaned softly and pulled away, kissing down his throat again, stopping at his nipples. This time he laved and sucked until Crispin arched against him, seeking more—more contact, more skin, more Luka.
Luka chuckled and kissed down Crispin’s stomach, nibbling the soft hollow of it and making his way to the vee of Crispin’s spread legs and what lay between.
Apparently the entire universe was between Crispin’s legs.
Luka’s hand on his shaft—firm and strong—just captured the aching caused by desire, and his mouth—oh Lord, his generous, wide, giving mouth made that desire explode.
Luka wasn’t shy—he licked, he nibbled, he teased, until Crispin could barely hold himself still, thrusting his feet into the mattress and spreading his knees just to invite more… more… more….
Then—oh horrors—Luka stopped, his mouth hovering over Crispin’s cockhead, his fist in midstroke. “Crispin—under my pillow there is a small bottle—could you—?”
Crispin fumbled for a moment, and amused puffs of breath on his dampened head told him that Luka enjoyed torturing him, just a little. Finally Crispin managed to produce the bottle of lubricant and the package of condoms that sat next to it. A tiny part of his brain said Oh—condoms. Way to think ahead, Crispin! But most of him was suspended in an agony of anticipation.
“What—I mean, are we going to—ohhhh….”
Luka went down on him again, shoving him to the back of his throat, and Crispin’s toes curled and his back arched, just… almost… not quite… ohmigod….
Luka pulled back, and he fell against the mattress, surprised when he felt slick fingers exploring his crease, along his pucker, and… “Oh!”
“You have no objections?”
“Oh!” A little push and Luka slid in to the first knuckle. “What are you—omigod!” Because it felt good. Like really good. And Luka was stopping.
“Crispin, this is important—yes? Or no?”
“Yes! Like, yes! Like, more! I like! Go, go, go!”
Luka deep-throated him again, still chuckling, and the vibrations made him almost as crazy as the finger inside him, stroking, penetrating, loosening. Spreading his legs didn’t seem to be enough then, and Crispin lifted them, holding his hands under his thighs to give Luka more access.
Luka raised his head enough for Crispin to see him, mouth glazed, eyes hooded. “Eagerness—I like it very much. Would you like more?”
It didn’t matter more of what. “Yes! Please! Oh God, Luka… I’m… I’m falling apart!”
“Good.”
With that Luka added another slippery finger, two of them, and for a moment Crispin couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—his whole world narrowed down to the invasion in his ass and the pressure on his cock. He squeezed his eyes tight, seeing a bright ring where his opening stretched… stretched… and he breathed in deep and….
And ah….
His entire body went limp with acceptance, his legs almost falling from his grasp.
“Oh yes,” he whispered from a fantastic, faraway floaty place where his body was singing and begging for more.
“Mm….” Luka gave his cock another hard suck before, oh no! Removing his fingers and scooting up the bed.
“But….” He let go of his legs and lowered his feet to the mattress.
“Don’t you want me inside you?” Luka whispered, taking a condom from the box and ripping open the packet.
Crispin shivered, his ass empty and aching, his cock hard against his stomach. Only the floaty feeling was keeping him from whimpering, taking himself in hand, masturbating to completion.
“Yes,” he moaned, hand drifting over his stomach.
“Mm… so compliant.” Luka kissed him, and he fell into it hungrily, wrapping his legs around Luka’s hips and bowing up, begging.
In a moment Luka gave him what he wanted, pressing up against Crispin’s opening with steady pressure.
Crispin fought against his dreaminess, but Luka kissed him again.
“Relax,” he soothed, stroking Crispin’s shoulder. “Just… give in. Allow it. I promise, no pain if you relax.”
Crispin fell back to that compliant place where he’d let Luka do anything to him as long as the touching didn’t stop.
Luka’s cockhead stretched him, and his eyes flew open as the burn returned.
“Sh….” Luka kissed him, pulled back, pushed forward, pulled back, and Crispin started to shake uncontrollably. Oh, he wanted it, wanted all of it, needed it inside him, oh please oh please oh please—
“Ah!” A brief burst of pain and then… fulfillment. Luka’s cockhead slid inside him—Luka was inside him! Crispin grabbed his shoulders and clung, eyes closed, half-submerged in that place of submission and half screaming with arousal.
“What are you afraid of?�
� Luka murmured. “Does it feel good?”
“Oh God yes!”
“Then scream it!”
“Ah! Luka!”
Luka started to stroke inside him, and Crispin started to gibber. He begged, he swore, he cried out, and Luka just went harder and faster, until all Crispin could do was hold on to his shoulders and keen, one continuous moan of pleasure, drugged on it, high with it, body strung like a piano wire, closer to flying with every thud of flesh against flesh.
Luka was sweating, face contorted into a grimace of need, and Crispin wanted to give to him, wanted to open for him, wanted to… oh! Omigod! Oh, holy hell—
“Luka!” He screamed, his orgasm taking him by surprise even as he craved it. Waves of heat crashed over him, followed by waves of ice, and he tilted his head back and groaned from the pit of his balls, where all good things were happening.
His body bloomed, convulsing around Luka inside him, swelling with the glory of his come.
Luka cried out, throwing his head back and rutting inside the clench of Crispin’s asshole, his grunt of climax almost a howl.
Crispin could feel the throb of him as he pulsed inside the condom, and he shuddered, suddenly wanting Luka’s semen inside him as he couldn’t ever remember wanting such a thing.
Luka collapsed on top of him, panting, both of them sweaty and sticky and spent. Crispin wrapped his arms and legs around Luka’s fine, lean body and held him almost desperately, needing him there to breathe.
Eventually Luka rolled away, and Crispin was left empty—and yes, aching.
“How are you doing?” Luka asked, breath coming in pants.
“I’m great,” Crispin whispered, but he didn’t sound great. He sounded a little broken.
“You sure?” Luka rolled to his side and pushed Crispin’s hair from his eyes with tender fingers.
“I’ve never….” Crispin gasped, searching for words. “I mean, I’ve done that, just never….” There was a wave in his chest, almost a second climax, rushing to come out. “That was really glorious,” he finished weakly, knowing water was leaking from the corners of his eyes.
“Sh…,” Luka soothed, kissing a tear as it trickled back from Crispin’s temple. His own eyes were suspiciously bright. “It’s an amazing thing when it’s good, yes?”
Crispin nodded, throat tight.
“Like seeing a painting you’ve always loved, or the ending of a beautiful movie.”
Crispin nodded again, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He squeezed them tight and let Luka crowd him, calm him, kiss his eyes, his ears, his throat, until Crispin rolled into his chest and slept.
HE WOKE not long after because Luka’s hands were roaming his back. Luka must have pulled the covers up over them, because they were body to body in the safety of a warm cocoon.
“Mm…,” Crispin mumbled, kissing Luka’s neck because he loved the warm, yeasty smell of him.
Luka paused and tilted his head back, giving Crispin better access, and Crispin used it, tasting down his neck to his nipples. He sucked hard and unapologetically—no tickling this time. He wanted, and the sleepiness and the afterglow and the power of the two of them together made him brave. His touches were sure and greedy, and Luka responded with abandon.
He rolled to his back and buried his hands in Crispin’s hair, and Crispin tugged on his nipple some more.
Gentle pressure on his head and he took the hint eagerly.
Luka must have gotten up to wash because he smelled clean and mildly soapy, and Crispin felt that odd sense of being cheated again.
He wanted to taste come, feel it.
Maybe because his life was so orderly, so neat. He wanted to taste the ultimate in sin.
He started by licking Luka’s shaft, tugging gently at the foreskin and tasting the ultrasensitive head. He pulled back for a moment, to see the shape of the thing, and was mildly shocked.
“That’s… wow.” The head was bulbous—much thicker than the shaft—which explained so much about how it had felt inside his body.
Luka chuckled, swelling in Crispin’s palm. “Come for the helmet, stay for the spear.”
Crispin grinned up at him. “That’s terrible!”
“Yes, but I have to say something. It’s very odd.”
Crispin opened his mouth and stretched out his tongue to lick again. Luka’s skin alone was ambrosia.
“It’s wonderful,” he praised, making sure his breath hit the dampened head. Luka’s long body tightened and then relaxed against the mattress, and that was the last thing Crispin said for a while.
He spent a lot of time licking, getting everything moist, letting the play of wet and heat and air and cold tease Luka’s skin. When Luka’s fingers in his hair grew urgent, he relaxed his jaw and took that head into his mouth, closing down and sucking.
Luka’s back bowed off the bed, and he let out a little cry. “Yes! Yes! Lick too!”
Crispin moved his tongue over the head as he sucked, pleased when Luka pounded the bed with his free hand.
“So good! You want to kiss me now and—”
But Crispin knew what he wanted. He pulled off long enough to say, “I want to swallow your come.”
His entire body washed cold, aroused by just saying the words.
“Please, then,” Luka begged. “Please suck me. Swallow me. Oh yes—Crispin!”
Hot. It was hot and salty—almost like beer but sweeter, and it flooded his throat, his senses, with a sense of triumph.
He could give pleasure too.
He swallowed but some still escaped, running down his mouth, his chin, and when Luka pulled him up by his armpits, he tried to wipe it off on his shoulder.
“No,” Luka whispered, pulling him close and licking his mouth, his chin, closing his eyes and swallowing too. Crispin whimpered, his cock hard and aching again, leaking copiously, aroused beyond endurance by bringing this man to climax.
Luka kept licking, pushing Crispin up until he was straddling Luka’s middle, licking down his chest, his stomach. Crispin knew where he was going, finally ended up astride Luka’s chest while Luka took him into his mouth again.
“Ah!”
“Look at me,” Luka whispered, licking his lips. “I’m going to suck you until you explode.”
Crispin grabbed hold of the headboard and realized that anyone from the outside could see him, see his face, if they looked across the courtyard to this window.
Then Luka’s wonderful mouth took him in, and he didn’t care.
His fingers tightened on the headboard as Luka had his way with him, lifting him up just enough to take a testicle tenderly into his mouth. Crispin didn’t try to hide his sounds this time, past caring. Let someone on the street see him be pleasured. Let the whole apartment building hear him scream.
Another testicle, oh so gently, a little harder, gentle again, then he lifted Crispin up some more and… oh my God. That was his tongue, rimming Crispin’s asshole, stretched and used and tender.
Crispin bent his head and bit his bicep, needing the pain to ground him.
“Stay there,” Luka whispered, rooting under the pillows where Crispin had found the lube and condoms.
Crispin couldn’t see what he produced this time, but he could feel it, slickened, smaller than Luka’s cock, big enough to stretch him again, ever so tender. It popped in, secure, and Crispin started to shake as Luka moved out from under him and took his cock into his mouth again.
Crispin saw stars, his ass contracting around the toy, his cock stroked and sucked and nibbled. He climaxed, hard enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, and Luka swallowed everything, leaving just the tiniest bit dripping down his chin.
Crispin slid down the bed and collapsed on his chest, his bottom still stretched by the toy, keeping his arousal hovering on “Not quite done,” but his balls were empty and throbbing with two orgasms so close together.
“God,” he said after a moment, when he thought the word wouldn’t get lost in the thundering of his pulse. He reac
hed behind him to pull the thing out, but Luka stopped him with a gentle hand on his wrist.
“If you leave it, I can take you as you sleep,” he said softly. “If that sounds sexy to you.”
Crispin closed his eyes, imagined waking up with Luka moving inside him, and nodded.
“Yeah. But not—”
“No. Not now. Come here, Crispin.” His smiled fluttered in and out like a startled bird. “I would like to talk to you for a bit, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He laid his head on Luka’s chest and let the smell of their sweat and semen and sex fill him. Utterly debauched, yes—but satisfying. As though this part of himself he’d held dormant and still for so long had just been growing ripe, waiting for this moment, this man, to burst juicily into being.
“You’re so pretty,” Luka sighed, combing his fingers through Crispin’s hair and letting the sweat dry. “Why am I the first—?”
“I wasn’t—”
“No, you said technically. So no, I am not the first man to put a penis up your sphincter—but I am the first person to make love to you until you screamed. Tell me?”
“I… well, I’ve always been shy, I guess,” he said, thinking he would leave it at that. But then, before he could stop himself, he said, “Even before my parents died.”
“Mm—that’s hard. Mine died when I was in high school.”
“You said.” Crispin would remember every word this man said to him. “I’m so sorry.”
Luka’s shrug seemed insouciant—but Crispin thought it masked a lot of pain.
“It… it was difficult,” he said with simple dignity. “They were kind people, yes? We laughed a lot. You?”
“I was young when my real parents died.” Crispin hated that word, “real” parents. But it was shorthand. “I think three when my mother died, and then my father….” He shuddered. This wasn’t pleasant. “He… he drank himself to death, I think.” Lots of days without the lights on. Lots of days with minimal food. “I just remember things being… dark.” His father holding him on his lap a lot. Crying. “And then he got sick and… I guess they had nobody. I was put in foster care.”
“Oh, Crispin—”
