by K. Z. Snow
Dare reached to his right and slid the case beside the CD player. The prospect of dancing with Jonah dwindled by the second. Dare’s chub-on was well on its way to becoming a hard-on. If he moved forward an inch, his crotch would connect with Jonah’s.
Simultaneously, they put their hands on the sides of each other’s hips. Dare moved forward an inch.
Contact. And it was electric. Jonah expelled a short, harsh breath. Dare’s legs went molten on the inside.
“D’you have a bed?” Jonah asked, voice thick and slurred.
“No. I sleep on a pile of straw in the basement.”
Hands slid around to backs, came forward, moved up, moved down. Dare fondled Jonah’s ass, no longer resisting the impulse. Hell, he’d been nursing it since that Sunday at the Zandt Pavilion. Even through cloth, the feel of those pronounced cheeks wired his nuts tight. With each pass of his fingers, his dick pulsed petulantly.
“Take me there.” Jonah cupped Dare’s neck and kissed it, worked his fingers under the hair at Dare’s nape, nipped and sucked at the skin of his throat. “I’m not afraid of mice.”
Moaning, Dare rolled his head to the side to give Jonah more access. “Are you sure?”
Jonah’s lips slid into a smile against Dare’s skin. “I used to have a pet mouse.”
“No, I mean… you’re certain you’re ready?” They moved apart so they could talk, which wasn’t easy with air in such short supply. Dare skimmed a few fingers down Jonah’s cheek. Christ, his skin was flawless. So were his eyebrows. Dare was almost envious; he had to pluck his. “We don’t need to rush into anything. We could sort of… cuddle if you’d like. Maybe sleep together. Just sleep.”
“I don’t think that would work.”
A flurry of goose bumps made Dare tingle from head to heels. Jonah closed in once more and nuzzled his head against Dare’s. Their faces turned. Their lips came together.
No mistaking this for a comfort kiss. Too steamy and eager and disturbing… in the best possible way. Jonah didn’t hold back and Dare didn’t pull back, except to mumble, “Come with me.”
He took Jonah’s hand and led him upstairs, determined to exercise restraint. But it wasn’t going to be easy.
They spun toward each other as soon as they entered the room, clung and groped as they undressed themselves and each other, crushed more kisses onto moistening lips. Clothing seemed to pull itself off—shirts suctioned into space, pants tugged down by gravity. Where were their shoes and socks? Dare couldn’t remember losing them.
“Hurry,” Jonah muttered.
Hopping and stumbling, Dare hurried as best he could while kissing Jonah wherever he could. He paused, mouth pressed against Jonah’s neck, to feel the clamoring pulse, the gathering heat.
What was it about the first glide of flesh against flesh that hit like the perfect opiate-amphetamine mix? It was a sharp, dizzying thrill that never repeated itself in quite the same way. Dare made a thin, helpless sound as soon as he felt the naked contours of Jonah’s body against his body and beneath his hands. He could’ve come just by drinking in the pools of scent behind Jonah’s ears, or tracing the choreography of bones beneath muscles and muscles beneath skin, or feeling the eager jabs of Jonah’s cock.
Inarticulate with lust, they clung together for endless minutes, kissing and fondling each other while sputtering out gibberish—profanities and invocations and praise.
“OhGodIlovethefeelofyou.”
“Iwantyousomuchwantedyouallalong.”
“YourcockissohardsofuckinghardIgottahaveit.”
Limbs weakened, they surrendered to the bed. Its thick duvet embraced them. Dare leaned over Jonah, who immediately reached for him.
“Time out,” Dare said, catching his hand.
“Why? For what?” Shallowly, Jonah’s chest rose and fell as he breathed through his mouth.
“So I can look at you.” And wonder how in the world I could’ve ever found you unremarkable.
“Look at me some other time.”
Smiling at his impatience, which was certainly a sign of better things to come, Dare chose not to listen. Instead he gazed at his new lover, stroking appreciatively instead of feverishly, and thought of that rose Jonah had sniffed at the botanical gardens, its velvety texture and gradations of blush. Jonah’s skin was like the rose’s petals. His eyes were the color of its leaves. Not that he was fragile as a flower. He was a good two inches taller than Dare, all long lines and sweeping curves, and, in spite of his lithe slimness, felt sinewy tough. But the similarity still stood.
Dare kissed him luxuriantly, taking time to let the humid warmth and softness of lips on lips work their subtle magic. A careful press, a languid swipe of tongue, then more prolonged and deeper contact. Delicious. Writhing beneath Dare’s weight, Jonah groaned. He gripped Dare’s head, speared fingers into his hair, sought more kisses.
“I could do this forever,” Jonah whispered.
“Something else we have in common,” Dare replied, mouth to mouth.
Body slicked with sweat, Jonah kept restlessly bending and straightening his legs and rubbing himself, shoulders to shins, against Dare’s body. The feel of Jonah’s arousal—not just the scuffing and poking of his rigid cock, but definitely that, too—was almost more than Dare could stand.
“Try to stop moving. You’ll make me come.”
“I want you to come. I want me to come.”
“Not yet. Let’s savor it.” Dare lowered his head for another kiss—one hand affectionately curled over the top of Jonah’s head, the other bracketing half of his jaw—and Jonah acquiesced by melting against him.
Dare stopped his flow of murmured words and expressed his ardor through a quieter language. He licked long, soft trails, marked by kisses, across the span of Jonah’s shoulders, the gentle rises and dips of his powdery-smooth chest, the hollows of his armpits.
Jonah released fluttery moans and whimpers, his skin shivering as his body twisted beneath Dare’s touch. “You’re driving me crazy.”
The feeling was mutual. Dare’s dick confirmed this with occasional pokes to Jonah’s slender waist and hips. Dare felt so flushed and tense, he thought he’d split down the center. Only concentrated effort kept him from charging toward climax.
Slow is best, he kept reminding himself over Jonah’s pleas. Slow says, “I treasure you. And this opportunity to let my senses delight in you.”
His hands took their own route, gliding down the Silk Road of Jonah’s arms and sides, over the shallow ridges of his ribs. But the dark, nestled chevrons of hair that spread below Jonah’s navel—those were for Dare’s mouth.
He stopped within the strangely soft delta of public hair. It smelled of baby talc. Smiling, Dare inhaled as he alternately nuzzled and plucked. His fingers painted through the down on Jonah’s hard, tapering thighs. Even though that roseate pole of a cock jutted directly over his face, Dare did nothing but tenderly kiss its base.
With a pained grunt, Jonah made a helmet of his hand and clamped it over the head. His breaths came hard and fast. At first Dare thought Jonah was going to shoot, with all the explosive spontaneity that a long stretch of celibacy can lead to. If that happened, Dare knew he’d lose it too.
Jonah managed to hold off. He didn’t let go, but when he shifted his hand to Dare’s cheek, his palm was slick with fluid. Dare turned his face and let the patch of moisture skim over his mouth.
“Oh Christ,” he whispered against it, tasting it, and had to clench forcefully, mentally and physically, to keep from gripping his own dick. A moment’s squeeze-and-pump would bring relief.
To stave off temptation, he repositioned himself and lifted Jonah’s legs over his shoulders… and immediately wished he’d left well enough alone. Jonah’s lust-saturated gaze fixed on Dare’s torso. Dare’s gaze fixed on the tightly packed weight of Jonah’s sac and the shadowed slope that led to his ass. Another bolt of excitement shot from deep within him, another touch to a trigger Jonah could find without trying.
Not yet, not yet.
With fingertips and tongue, Dare traced the bulging curvature of Jonah’s balls, beneath scrotal skin stretched to a glossy sheen, and teased the short track of his taint. His other hand, uncontrollable, fondled that incomparable ass. Jonah’s feel and smell and taste were slightly different from one spot to another, and Dare had been gathering them all within himself, fueling his hormones the way a variety of shots enhanced intoxication during a bar-hopping spree.
Sensory overload hazed his mind while sharpening his arousal. Another drop formed at his slit, then another. He was drunk on Jonah Day.
“Oh God, stop,” Jonah said on the thinnest thread of breath.
The message took a while to travel from ears to brain. Dazed, Dare eased off.
Jonah lowered his legs from Dare’s shoulders and boosted himself up on the rumpled pillows. “Do you have that oil?”
“What oil?”
“The stuff you had on at the club. I could tell you had oil on your chest.”
Sluggishly, the fog began to dissipate. “Oh, the cayenne-flavored oil. No, I only use it there.”
“Shit.”
“Why?” Smiling, Dare leaned forward and wiped the sweat off Jonah’s forehead. They continued to huff like wrestlers, and they hadn’t even exerted themselves yet.
“Ever since those two guys in the audience…. I’ve had these fantasies…. Damn, I get excited when I have them.”
The heat radiating from Jonah’s damp skin bore testimony. Dare was feeling pretty toasty himself. His balls drew tighter, as if seeking the fire that crackled and smoldered at the base of his spine and filled his pelvis with pressurized heat. “I think I have mango or almond around here somewhere.”
“Run and get it and come back and sit on your haunches in front of me and wipe it over your pecs and your dick.”
“Yes sir. But I don’t have to run anywhere.” Dare leaned over Jonah, making sure the damp head of his cock brushed Jonah’s right nipple, which elicited a ground-out groan. The oil, whatever kind it was, should be in the nightstand drawer.
“I’m so glad you’re mine tonight,” Jonah said, smoothing both hands over the small of Dare’s back, over his butt and flanks and the backs of his thighs. “Thank you.”
Like I’m a gift. Immediately, Dare’s throat knotted. I think I’ll be yours for longer than tonight.
“Shhh. Just let me please you.” Sentiment. Oh Jesus. Dare didn’t want to lose his marble monument of an erection to sentiment. Not here, not now.
After handing over the oil, he sat back between Jonah’s parted legs and—speaking of monuments—marveled again at how such an unassuming man could stand out so strikingly, front and rear.
Jonah sat facing him, legs angled over Dare’s thighs. Their cocks bumped restlessly. Their chests pumped with anticipation.
“Put it on,” Jonah said, his voice coarse and constricted.
He watched, lips slack, while Dare drizzled oil into his palms and slowly swiped his hands over his chest and hard-on.
“Your body is so insanely beautiful, Dare.” Jonah’s voice was nearly inaudible.
Without another word, Jonah all but dove forward and fingered one slick, taut nipple while closing his mouth over the other. He sucked at it, flicked his tongue over it, held it between his teeth and jerked his head back.
Too much. Glinting blades of pleasure-pain sliced through Dare’s body. He sealed his eyes shut and stiffened all over, trying to stifle a response he soon wouldn’t be able to contain.
“Come for me,” Jonah murmured, sliding his hands down Dare’s torso. The mattress bounced slightly; Jonah was moving somewhere. “Come in me.”
Back. He was sliding back so he could more easily lower his head. So he could take Dare’s straining dick into his beautiful mouth.
If Jonah was capable of oral finesse, and there were definite indications he was, he had little chance to prove it. At the first hard suction combined with the first curl and sweep of tongue, Dare cried out, his neck arching backward and hips thrusting forward. The fierce buildup and break came within seconds. Jonah cinched one hand around the root of Dare’s cock as his mouth worked shaft and head, and Dare could do nothing but let climax tear through him.
Within glimmering blackness he was tugged from crest to trough, over and over again, until he felt dizzy. Jonah finally released him. Quivering with emptiness, Dare wilted forward as he caught his breath. Liquid white threads and splotches patterned his belly and thighs and cooled against his skin.
Weakly, he smiled. Jonah must have pulled back at the last minute, as soon as Dare had reached critical mass. That was okay; it wasn’t as if Dare had never come on himself before.
Jonah had been a lovely lover. Considering this was their first time, and considering what had brought them together, Dare couldn’t have asked for more.
“Sorry,” Jonah said, smoothing a hand over Dare’s sweat-dampened hair.
Dare touched Jonah’s flushed face, looked into eyes that were greener than Dare had ever seen them before. “Believe me, you have no reason to apologize.” He lifted one of Jonah’s hands and kissed it.
“I didn’t mean to come all over you, but I’ve been ready to burst since we were in the living room.”
Dare glanced at the flaking streaks and lifted his brows. “That’s yours?”
“Do you see anyone else on the bed?”
Chuckling, Dare fell into him—a lazy, loving tackle that left them curled together on the hopelessly creased sheets.
“By the way,” Jonah murmured as they lay nose to nose, “you taste great.”
BEFORE they fell asleep and between expressive kisses, Dare got Jonah to talk about how he would like to be satisfied. The questions, the whole conversation, were new to Dare’s experience. He was used to abrupt encounters without much foreplay and even less consideration. For years he’d simply found himself naked, or naked enough to get the job done, with some guy who’d temporarily struck his fancy, and they’d fall into whatever roles whim seemed to dictate.
Soon Dare had come to the realization he liked topping from the bottom. He couldn’t remember when or why he’d developed that preference, just knew somewhere along the line that neither aggression nor passivity was for him. He’d realized he could go all top, too, given the right incentive.
If anybody offered the right incentive and offered it in spades, Jonah did. He said he’d been fantasizing about the two of them “notched together,” Dare holding him and driving deep inside him. He spoke of it in such graphic terms—the rhythm he’d like, the fullness and pressure he anticipated, the protracted periods of stillness and “oneness”—that it was obvious his desire had as much to do with romantic bonding as it did with sexual gratification.
Dare couldn’t deny he wanted in. He hadn’t seen an ass as fine as Jonah’s in ages. Hell, he hadn’t known a man as fine in ages. Or ever.
Problem was, fucking Jonah could be a delicate issue both literally and figuratively. Jonah hadn’t been sexually active in a while. Much more important, though, he could still be burdened by hideous associations.
They had to work their way up to that aspect of sex, but there was no point in thinking about it as they drifted toward sleep. Dare knew they were more than sated. They were fulfilled.
SOME hours later, in the dark hollow at the middle of night, Jonah broke.
At first Dare thought he’d startled himself awake by reacting to a dream he couldn’t remember. It had happened before. Within seconds, he realized the noises he heard came from elsewhere… and kept coming.
Dare slipped out of bed and found Jonah hunched in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around his bent legs and face pressed into his knees. His sobs twisted out as muffled growls and groans. His inhalations were abrupt, harsh gasps. The sounds alone were painful. The feel of them must have been agonizing. His folded body tightened and shuddered with repeated spasms, tightened and shuddered.
Jonah’s break was worse than Dare’s, because he�
��d been broken even more thoroughly, more cruelly. Although he’d patched his pulverized self together with pride and determination, with GG’s love and AA’s help, the glue hadn’t been strong enough to last. Its disintegration was long overdue.
“Keep letting go,” Dare whispered, holding him snugly and petting his hair. “Let it all out.”
After that, neither of them said another word. No words were necessary.
Loosely entwined, they both slept soundly after they went back to bed.
THE next morning, Jonah made a request.
“I don’t want to rush into this,” Dare replied with concern.
“Then don’t rush. Just believe it’s what I want, what I need. With you.”
So Dare took another step toward fusing their separate dreams into a single reality. After they shared breakfast and a bath, Dare made slow love to Jonah with his hands and mouth—an inspired act of worship, deft and meticulous. He didn’t enter Jonah with his cock. In Dare’s mind it seemed appropriate that this be about cherishing, not about fucking. Not just yet.
They had time to work up to that. Plenty of time. Dare was sure of it, because he was sure their intimacy would grow. What mattered most now was laying the foundation… and getting it right.
Dare was also sure Pepper Jack would never again allow himself to be touched by a Sugar Bowl customer or employee. Not as long as Jonah Day was willing to touch him.
Chapter Seventeen
TWO months of progress. It wasn’t a lot, yet it was, because it came bundled with Jonah Day and GG Martinsek, with Bouncin’ Bob’s Polka Doodles, and even with three girls—well, boys—at the Sugar Bowl who’d been emboldened to talk about their own abuse experiences when they heard about Dare’s.
Pankin and Wallace occasionally came up, which meant a haunting sting occasionally crawled through Dare’s and Jonah’s scars. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be. Remembering would never be easy, but at least it would never again be as hard.
