by Amy Lane
It was coating his hand, his stomach, his chest, and as he lay there, he pulled his hand up to his mouth and licked his fingers, shuddering, because it seemed such a deliciously dirty thing to do. He kept licking until his hand was clean and his cock had shuddered and spurted in aftershock until everything was spent, and his body was shiny clean inside because he’d spilled everything he had onto his skin.
Absently, he used a corner of the white towel to wipe off his stomach and his hand, very conscientiously not getting anything on the white coverlet or doing anything to soil the bright, airy, lovely room.
Alejandro, he yearned. Alejandro, would you like me like this? Would you want to see me come? Would you want to help me along? Would you see me as Don, god of sex, or Donnie, Chelle’s little brother? Oh God, Yandro, are you sure you wouldn’t like to taste me? Touch me? Kiss me? I’d die for just a taste of you. I’d die to know you wanted me. Oh, please, Yandro—couldn’t you want me? Even once? Just long enough to make me know what it feels like to be touched like that by another human being? Just for a little? I sure would love the chance to please you, and maybe, if I did, you’d like me to be naked a lot more than just once, and I could please you forever.
It was on that thought that he fell asleep.
Alejandro
THERE was something about coming into a home—any home, even your own—in the middle of the night that made you move quietly, not that Chelle was all that obtrusive as it was.
The two of them hauled their exhausted asses through the door wearily, too numb with exhaustion to even put a word to things like broken busses and missed flights and the complete clusterfuck of the last show which had led to them getting home two days early. Jesus, all they wanted was a shower and bed—maybe not even in that order.
“Where’s Donnie?” Chelle asked, and Alejandro had to ask the same thing. Betty was asleep on the couch, Barney (who ignored the whole thing about being a cat) was asleep next to her, and the television was on. “I wonder if he fell asleep or something.”
Alejandro looked around the house. Everything seemed to be in good order. He’d had to admit to himself that Donnie really did know how to take care of his home and his animals—and nothing he could see here, even two days early, showed that Donnie had been anything but responsible. But then, the only remotely scandalous thing Chelle’s little brother had done was come out to his awkward, but still loving and supportive, parents.
Alejandro had been a little jealous about that, actually, which was something he’d never confess to Chelle. His family didn’t know, because he was pretty sure the love and the support would stop as soon as his little secret was known, and that was too bad. Maybe that was what made him not want to get too involved with anyone. How excited could he be about a relationship if his parents would never know the person as anything other than his “very very good friend”?
But Chelle was right, the house was in good shape, and why not? Really, how badly could a college student fuck up house-sitting? Okay, don’t answer that. How badly could Donnie fuck up house-sitting?
As far as Alejandro could tell, the worst thing he’d done was fall asleep with the lights on, and as he pushed the door open into his room, he thought he could live with that.
He saw what was on his bed, dropped his suitcase on the floor, and felt an ache in his groin he would have sworn was impossible through the weariness and the irritation he’d felt as he’d walked into the house.
The boy was just so… so decadent all sprawled out there on a white towel, his tight twinkie ass exposed to the world, his shoulders hunched underneath him as he slept. Alejandro’s bottle of lube was next to him, and those kinky art books Alejandro had bought during his long dry spell were neatly spread out in front of him, and oh. My. God. Did that kid ever look like a leading player in a wet dream!
Heart pounding, Alejandro took two steps backward, flipped off the light, and shut the door behind him, looking wild-eyed into the rest of the house.
Chelle must have heard him because she came out of her room in her bare feet and leotards, looking graceful and exhausted.
“Did you find him?” she asked, and Alejandro made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Seriously,” Chelle said, her delicate, triangular face anxious, “Yandro, where’s my little brother?”
“He’s sa-afe.” Alejandro’s voice cracked and pitched at the end of that word, and suddenly Michelle’s lips quirked up.
“He’s naked on your bed, isn’t he?”
“No!” Alejandro shook his head like mad, like that would make her guess less true.
“He is! He is totally naked on your bed right now! I knew it! I told you he had a crush on you!”
“You did not!” Alejandro would have remembered something like that, and Chelle grimaced.
“Okay, you’re right. I did, but it was like a year ago and you probably thought I was full of crap and forgot. But I knew—hell, Yandro, you’re damned near the reason he came out!”
Alejandro put his face in his hands and leaned back against the door. “God, Chelle—really? I don’t want to know that!”
“What? Is my little brother not good enough for you?” Her words were light, but he looked up and saw she was on the edge of being hurt, and since he was the first to admit he got more from her living with him than she did, he felt compelled to be totally and completely honest with her.
“He’s awesome,” Alejandro confessed, looking at her. “Your little brother is beautiful and amazing and perfect and way too young and innocent for the things I want to do to him.” Alejandro put his face back into his hands and wailed. “Oh geez—what am I going to do? He’ll be mortified.”
Chelle shrugged and smiled innocently. “Not if you make like Prince Charming and wake him with a kiss!”
Alejandro glared at her. “Michelle! That is your brother!”
“And he’s totally of age, and he’s been pining for you forever. I’m not asking you to pull out the handcuffs and all that sex stuff you’ve been smuggling in when you think I haven’t been looking. Just give him a kiss and go to sleep.” Chelle yawned. “Especially that part about the sleep, okay?”
Alejandro yawned too. God, they were both wiped out. He sighed. “Yeah, okay, fine, but if that kid loses his virginity while I’m having a wet dream, we’re both blaming you.”
Chelle grimaced and rubbed her hand through her short-cropped blonde hair. “So. Gross. Spare me the details and remember I tell Mom and Dad everything, okay?” She yawned again and padded gracefully into her room. In a moment, Alejandro heard her shower, and thought that maybe if he used the shower in his room, Donnie would get the hint and clear out, and they could pretend this never happened.
Unfortunately, Alejandro spent the entire shower fantasizing about Chelle’s little brother. God, he was cute. Alejandro had thought so three years ago, and even more so now. Between the tousled blond hair, bright blue eyes, and that look on his face—so sweet. Such a good boy.
And he had a wide, mobile mouth that would look fabulous wrapped around Alejandro’s thick and uncut cock.
He shuddered, even as the hot water sluiced down his back. He wrapped his hand around himself and pulled his foreskin back, shuddering again as the water massaged the tender, naked pinkness underneath. His cock swelled and he gripped it tighter, thinking about that hot, tight little ass, naked and bare, upraised on Alejandro’s bed. Donnie hadn’t used the toys, and there wasn’t a telltale track of lubricant on his cheeks or running down his thighs, but that didn’t stop Alejandro from imagining….
Imagining coming home to find Donnie waiting for him in the dark with his knees spread on the bed and his sweet little sphincter, dilated by one of the plugs in the drawer, lubricated, stretched, and panting in anticipation. Alejandro would pull the plug out slowly, just to hear him whimper, hear him plead, before placing himself right at the entrance, and slowly… so slowly… just press forward… forward….
“Gawmmmmphhh….” He muffled his howl
of completion on his arm, his whole body shuddering, and oh God, he hadn’t even imagined the complete act!
Did he want his roommate’s little brother? Oh hell yes!
But that didn’t mean he was going to come out of the shower and jump the kid’s bones. That wouldn’t be even remotely honorable, would it?
But still….
He came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist (much like Donnie, had he known it) and dug in his drawer for some sleep shorts. He put them on and then, reaching very carefully, pulled the comforter out from under the boy and down around Donnie’s feet. He stopped to throw the towel in the hamper, thinking yearningly that he wished he’d been there when it had been soiled, because that would have been something to see, and then crawled in next to Donnie, pulling the comforter up around their shoulders. With a sigh and a hope he wasn’t fucking up completely, he wrapped his arm around Donnie’s waist and snuggled in, kissing the back of a slender neck under that tousle of blonde hair. The air conditioner was a little overzealous at night, even on a hot day like this, and Donnie’s warm skin felt so good against Alejandro’s chest and thighs.
“Mmm….” Donnie mumbled. “Alejandro?”
“Yeah, kid. This okay?”
“I’m dreaming about you, Alejandro.”
“Good dreams?”
A quiet chuckle. “The best.” Donnie snuggled deeper into Alejandro’s arms, and Alejandro thought he could really get used to this—after a talk with Donnie in the daylight, of course. Suddenly, the thought of daylight called up bright yellow behind his eyes, and the green of the lawn and the blue of the skies, all of that with Donnie in his arms.
Alejandro pushed himself up and kissed Donnie on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, Twinkie,” he said softly.
“Just don’t leave me, ’kay?”
“Deal.”
Alejandro closed his eyes and thought maybe there were worse things than having a naked body in his bed come sunrise.
“Donnie?” he asked, right before he fell asleep.
“Mmm?”
“Why are you wearing the socks my grandmother made?”
“Cause they’re sexy.”
Alejandro mused on that a little, and about the time he decided the kid had a point, he fell asleep.
Donnie
MMMM…. Warm arms around his middle and a hard chest pressed along Donnie’s back. It was so intimate, so sweet as the sun peeped in through the sliding glass door that led to the back yard, that Donnie wasn’t sure he wasn’t still dreaming, sort of a post-jack-off fantasy.
Then he felt the hard-on—covered in cotton, yes, but a definite hard-on—prodding along the crease of his bottom, and he knew it was a post-jack-off fantasy.
His thighs grew heavy, his cock swelled, and he was moving a lazy hand down to his groin to stroke it when a low rumble of a subtly accented voice snapped him awake.
“Don’t do that.”
Donnie stiffened and might have even jumped up and out of the bed, but that strong arm clamped over his shoulders and kept him from freaking out.
“Alejandro?” he squeaked. Oh God. Not a post-jack-off fantasy after all!
“Morning, Donnie.” There was a shifting behind him, and then soft lips tickled the nape of his neck, his back, and then moved over the side, to his shoulders. That hand—firm, strong, and undeniable—reached over Donnie’s bare (oh geez, was he really naked?) bottom and without apology grasped Donnie’s morning wood, hard, at his base.
Donnie made a strangled moan, especially when that hand didn’t move, didn’t stroke, didn’t anything.
“Donnie?”
“Yes?” His breath was ghosting past Donnie’s ear, and Donnie just wanted to die, dissolve into a puddle and seep through the sheets die, with anticipation.
“I’m going to stroke you off and make you come, do you understand?”
That fist didn’t move, even when Donnie bucked into it, and Donnie kept his manly whimper locked in his throat. “Mm-hmmm…,” he tried, breaking into a sweat with the effort of keeping still.
“I don’t want you to move, okay? And when I’m done, I want you to get up and take a shower, and come back in here and lay naked on the bed, and not to touch yourself unless I’m here to watch you. Can you do that?”
“Does this mean….” The hand on his cock started to stroke slowly up and Donnie could barely talk. “Does this mean you want me?” he blurted while his voice still worked, and the hand suddenly relaxed and stroked him meditatively, not forcefully at all.
“Oh God, Donnie.” Alejandro’s voice had dropped, was less the mysterious voice of the sexually dominant, experienced man and more the voice of Chelle’s roommate who had always been kind. “Want you? It’s not even a question, okay?”
“Okay, but—”
“I want this to be good for you. I want you to want to stay here, in my bed…. I guess….” That hand tightened and Donnie’s erection grew so hard that the skin on his cock actually felt thicker. “I wanted you to feel safe, and cared for, and like what we were doing here was okay. I thought if I bossed you around, you wouldn’t question waking up here in my arms.”
Donnie closed his eyes, his whole body thrumming with anticipation and understanding and joy.
“Okay, then,” he murmured. “Okay, then. You boss me around until I get tired of it… but….” And now he really did whimper.
Alejandro’s hand tightened up again, and Donnie gasped. It was so tight it almost hurt, and the pressure felt wonderful and so different from his own hand. His body bucked frantically, and Alejandro placed a gentle kiss on the back of his neck and said, “Stop moving, Donnie, yes?”
Donnie let out a soft keening sound and then froze.
And still that hand stroked. From the base to the crown, from the base to the crown, steady, firm, teasing the head on the upstroke.
Behind him Alejandro shifted, moved, his other hand rooting around on the bed almost uncomfortably, but the hand that mattered, the hand that kept that blissful, maddening back-and-forth on his cock, didn’t falter even a little, even when Alejandro’s other hand snuck down, snuck down… past Donnie’s spine, and the crease of his bottom, to gently, gently stroke at that bare patch of skin between Donnie’s balls and his sphincter, and then very gently back into the sensitive, contracting skin of Donnie’s rim.
“Uh… ooohaaaaaaa….” Every nerve ending seared, blazed white, then red, then black, like the fireworks behind Donnie’s eyes as his entire body contracted and he came.
Everywhere.
Alejandro’s hand was dripping, and so was Donnie’s chest, his stomach, his pubic hair, and thighs. Alejandro’s grip eased up, and his touches at the head of Donnie’s cock became softer, more tender, and then Alejandro’s other hand moved and Donnie felt—unmistakable, even with the fabric covering it—the outline of a very big, very hard cock grinding up against Donnie’s ass.
It sort of dawned on Donnie that Alejandro wanted that thing to get a whole hell of a lot closer to that place.
Alejandro nuzzled the back of his neck again and then pushed himself up on his elbow. Donnie turned toward him, knowing his cheeks were flushed and that his mouth was parted, and all three years of his terrible crush on this beautiful man were shining out of his eyes.
“I’m nineteen now,” he said breathlessly. “I’m old enough—you know. For you and me.”
Alejandro bent down and kissed his cheek. “I’m not….” He grimaced. “I’m not good at you and mes, Donnie. But I would like to make this good for you. If you and I never touch again, after this day, and we go back to being just people in your sister’s life, I still want the chance to make this good for you.”
Donnie nodded blindly. If Alejandro had told him to bend over, spread his ass, and scream like a chimpanzee, he probably would have done it right then, even if what followed was going to hurt twice as much as Donnie suspected going back to being sort of friends would hurt now.
He remembered an inconvenient factoid, though
, that put a damper on his resurging hard-on. “Yandro, I’ve got to work in, like, two hours.”
Alejandro closed his eyes for a second and then said, “You were going to come back tonight anyway, weren’t you?”
Donnie nodded eagerly.
“Good.” Alejandro balanced his outside hand on Donnie’s hip. It was unapologetically wet and sticky, and Donnie rolled over so they could look face-to-face. Alejandro went to put his hand back and Donnie seized it, curious and quickly becoming aroused again. Playfully, his eyes locked with Yandro’s, he pulled it to his mouth and stuck out a delicate tongue to trace the wet, sloppy lines of Yandro’s fine, artistically long-fingered brown hand.
Alejandro’s mouth opened and his eyes closed, and when Donnie popped the middle finger into his mouth and suckled all the way to the base, he threw his head back and gasped. His hips bucked into Donnie’s, and Donnie slurped his way to the other fingers. When he was done, Alejandro slid his still-damp hand through Donnie’s hair and cupped the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss.
Donnie opened his mouth and kissed back, letting Alejandro tell him what to do, guide him, because, after all, it might not have been his first hand job, but it was his first kiss.
He closed his eyes and tasted morning breath, but not too bad, and Alejandro’s skin and the rough feeling of his tongue in Donnie’s mouth. Donnie groaned and sank into the kiss a little more, relaxed, and stopped fixating on the fact that it was Alejandro’s body in Alejandro’s bed, like Alejandro was the god of sex and he was going to smack Donnie down for daring to be there. What he started to remember—or at least his body started to remember, because his brain finally shut up and let things happen—was that Alejandro was his friend, and that he had never been anything but kind.
And suddenly Donnie couldn’t get enough of the kiss. He reached out and clenched his hands in the nape of Alejandro’s neck and knotted his fingers in Yandro’s thick dark hair and mashed his hairless chest up against Yandro’s.
