by A. F. Henley
"On the bed," Arik murmured.
"Don't go," Blaze said suddenly, his fingers clamping and his expression hardening. As if, somehow, for some reason, letting go meant parting. As if, somehow, for some reason, the fall onto the mattress would mean disappearing altogether. Like it waited to swallow him away. Like that moment had been the one written in as the pinnacle of their rendezvous. Like it was already over.
"Not even one step," Arik promised.
Blaze sat, and Arik smiled. "Not like that." Arik lowered his hand to Blaze's shoulder, directing him with a light touch. "Lay on the mattress, face down."
"Lube ..." Blaze suggested, starting to rise.
Arik shook his head. "Don't need it." He waited for Blaze's head tilt to pass, for Blaze to resettle as directed, and then guided one of Blaze's legs into a crook on the mattress. Blaze's other leg was off the bed, foot on the floor, so that he seemed to crouch over the end of it. Arik placed both hands on Blaze's ass, and massaged the two muscles to expose the heated hole between them. "I'm not done tasting you yet."
A low groan sounded from Blaze's throat, and Blaze buried his face into the mess of tangled cotton underneath him. Blaze's hips tilted, his fingers found pointless holds, and even his balls twitched and tightened under Arik's visual adoration.
And I haven't even touched him yet. Another thought that had Arik's cock dancing for consideration. All the gods in heaven could not have held Arik back any longer, he was sure of it. Arik dropped to his knees, fell forward, and swiped his tongue over Blaze's asshole. Blaze's breathy verbalizations didn't need to be recognizable as they were huffed through the sheets. Inflection and tone were enough to identify them as praise. Arik teased with feathery flicks of his tongue; wetting, coating, enticing. When Blaze began to whimper, Arik began to run his tongue up and down Blaze's cleft, Arik's right hand massaging slow circles into Blaze's lower back. Such a beautiful physique. Perfect structure. Awesome taste.
"Arik ..." Blaze's spine seemed fluid; Blaze's body a slither of form into mattress. He jerked his head to the left, looked over his shoulder and groaned. "Please ..."
If Blaze had any more of an idea what he was asking for than Arik did, Blaze wasn't saying. So Arik took his direction from imagination, located Blaze's tight hole with his tongue again, and began to wriggle the muscle into Blaze's body. The sound Blaze made wasn't human. But it was fucking beautiful to hear. Almost as gorgeous as the way that Blaze's hips began to hump the mattress, his back muscles tensing and trembling. Blaze's other leg slipped to find a way to hold himself open wider. If the sensation coursing through Blaze's blood was even a fraction of what Arik felt when Blaze touched him ... the man had to be losing his mind.
Arik watched it all, drinking in Blaze's reactions, piercing Blaze's asshole with his tongue in a drive that was too deep for Arik's jaw to maintain comfortably. Discomfort was not, however, any reason for Arik to stop. Not this time. Hell no. The only thing that mattered was the giving—making the pleasure stream off Blaze's body.
This was Blaze's turn, a moment of unadulterated satisfaction without duty or function. Because try as he might, Arik couldn't shake the idea of Blaze's quests, be they truth or fiction of mind, as some kind of purgatorial existence. For the few, the thousands (God could only know the true numbers), Arik hadn't gotten the impression there'd been a lot of enjoyment sent Blaze's way. "If it's just a comfort thing, that's fine too," Blaze had told him, the nonchalance behind the words suggesting familiarity with the concept. So what then? Go where I tell you, do what I want you to do, offer yourself up wherever, whenever, however you are directed. The Universe's Whore. A puppet on strings. Obey or pay.
What a crock of bullshit. Worse if it was true. Not that Arik had ever had to find another reason to hate the mystical.
Arik's grip tightened on Blaze's ass, and he sought for deeper drive and sweeter sensitivity. He searched out every dangling tendril of those spark-infused, manipulative, bastard strings, collected them up in his head, and used them as a whole to stroke Blaze's mental and physical everything.
Blaze whispered, whimpered, and begged while his body squirmed, contorted, and fucked the bed. Arik gave up on holding flesh apart and let his left hand seek out the path his right was already on, finding and caressing the rolling muscles of Blaze's back.
"That ..." Blaze panted. "You ... Make ... Ah, fuck!" Blaze's knee finally caught a hold on the edge of the bed and the center of his being split wide and willing. Arik leaned closer still, worked Blaze's spit-soaked hole furiously, and groaned at the way Blaze's walls tried to both grip and pull his tongue deeper. Sparks danced between fingertips and torso, Arik's mouth felt alive with electricity, and he had no choice but to drop his right hand to his pants, release his own cock and start stroking it mercilessly—lest he lose his mind.
"Make me ..." Blaze's voice dropped to a mewl of need. "You're going to make me ..."
Arik trailed his fingertips down Blaze's spine, shoulder to lower back, and down the slick path his tongue had worked up. Then it was both tongue and finger. Both tongue and a couple of fingers. It was sputtered curses and ragged breaths. It was fucking and kissing, of the most erotic nature possible, and it was the hottest damn moment of Arik's life. Twice he had to still the hand on his own cock, twice he was forced to swallow back the waves of orgasm that threatened him, and when everything began to culminate in a greedy, heady fuck-everything-else-I-need-to-come-NOW rush, Arik finally gave up the scintillating penetration his fingers kept insisting on, to shove his hand underneath Blaze's hips and squeeze Blaze's cock.
That was all it took. One squeeze. Blaze hollered, screwed his eyes closed, and thrust into the grip. Blaze's body shuddered from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, and warm fluid pumped over Arik's fingers, soaking the sheets.
Without even bothering to remove his grip, Arik kissed the small of Blaze's back, straightened his spine, and shot his own load over the spread core of Blaze's ass. It was more than a mere release of pressure—the spatters that painted Blaze's body were nothing less than bliss liquefied into a tangible mess of body fluid. It seemed as if it was Arik's core, sputtering out of the end of his cock, to mark Blaze as his own. If only for that moment.
Arik rested his heaving chest and sweat-slicked forehead on Blaze's back, bit back the words of endearment his tongue tried to voice, and instead, Arik chuckled. "The chambermaids are going to hate us."
"My, God," Blaze gasped under Arik's weight. "If we keep up this pace, I'm going to hate us."
Arik shook his head, "Not I. Not for a single moment. That was fan-fucking-tastic."
"It was," Blaze murmured. "But can we eat for real now?"
"Ayup," Arik laughed. "We certainly can."
Blaze
Blaze woke up, and for a moment, he forgot who he was. Gone was history. Vanished were hurts, trials, miseries, deaths ... His name eluded him. His location didn't matter. The day of the week was a petty detail.
There was only the sheer drapes fluttering over the silent air conditioner. Sunlight peeked through the crack in the heavy curtains, highlighting expensive wall paper and paintings of peaceful pastoral scenery. He could smell soap, food, and sleep-warmed sheets. He was sprawled on his side, naked, comfortable, warm, and lazy; more satisfied than he was sure he'd ever been.
A sigh, a rustle of covers, and a body pressed against Blaze from shoulders to ass. Electricity sparked between them, and Blaze sleepily moaned without bothering to check the noise. It was Arik behind him. Arik around him. Arik tracing his arm, rubbing his chest, stroking his belly, wrapping a hand around his ..."Oh," Blaze breathily whispered.
"Morning." Arik kissed behind Blaze's ear.
Blaze heard his own whimper, and he was at a loss to control the pump of his hips into Arik's hold on Blaze's hardening cock. He could barely keep his eyes open, so unwilling was he to come up from under the sea of tranquility. He gasped for the man sharing his bed. He arched. He clutched at the pillow, at a hip, on a thigh.
"Mm?" Blaze couldn't remember, and Jesus-spirit-God-all, the sizzling esoteric tingles on his flesh felt too good to think. He tried, anyway, wanting to know what he'd done to earn this so he could do it over and over, and then it came back to him ...
... four a.m., a sleeping Arik ... beautiful ... serene ... and Blaze had gotten water, watched Arik on his back, the rise and fall of his chest ... and couldn't resist climbing into bed and sliding down Arik's body. Couldn't stop himself from taking Arik into his mouth. And Arik had been entirely silent, holding Blaze. Arik had tossed, writhed, jerked, clenched, and hissed breath ... He'd come, hard and fast. He'd rolled over. He'd tucked himself against Blaze, and they had gone back to sleep ...
Two days. For two days, it'd been them in the hotel room. After the initial chat about Quests and Visions and Arik's potential gifts, they'd not spoken of any of it again. They'd eaten off room service trays. They'd left their sanctuary only to allow the maid to change the bedding and the towels. They'd gone to the indoor pool on the ground level and had swum in heated waters. They'd rented movies, charged them to the room, and to date, they'd not seen the ending of a single one of the films. They'd gotten lost in making out, in trying out ways to intensify the buzzing that crackled between them. They'd showered together, fallen asleep wrapped around one another ... resting, recovering ... existing.
"Ahn ... ah ..." Blaze gasped, rippling in Arik's hold.
"Can you?" Arik asked, because at some point after the millionth orgasm, it'd stopped being about performance and started being about pleasure. Arik seemed obsessed with it, actually: making Blaze feel good. Paying Blaze back, for whatever the hell it was he thought Blaze had done. Blaze didn't argue. Couldn't, in fact, argue most of the time, as his mouth was occupied in some way, shape, or form. And Arik was so damned hot and weirdly gentle, yet ferocious, and what man in his right mind would say no to that kind of affection?
Blaze nodded, because he could feel the burn building. His lower back, his ass, and his groin were already tightening. But it was ... almost peaceful. Undemanding. Like the sensation was going to happen, was destined, and Blaze could simply ride it out and enjoy.
"Good," Arik whispered, and he licked Blaze's ear in precisely the way that made Blaze shiver. "I love seeing you get off."
Blaze bit his lip, snaked a hand back and up and into Arik's hair. He rocked, he called out, softly but audible, and soon it was cresting, rising—inevitable—and then spilling, overflowing ... And Blaze opened his eyes, trying to catch his breath and eagerly sucking his own cum off Arik's hand when Arik held it up for Blaze to taste.
For an instant, Blaze felt safe, and he hugged Arik's arm to his chest, willing the moment to last.
"I have a surprise for you," Arik announced, nuzzling Blaze's neck and planting little kisses along the tendon.
Blaze arched an eyebrow over his shoulder at Arik. "I know it may not seem like it, but my dick does have limits."
Arik laughed and kissed Blaze. He tasted like sex-flavored toothpaste. "I'll believe it when I run into them."
"Mmhm."
"But I actually had something else in mind." Arik slid off the bed, snagging a pair of pants out of a chair, and Blaze sat up. The room was clean, Arik's bag was packed, and Arik was putting on clothes almost as fast as he could take them off, when properly motivated.
"We going somewhere?" Blaze asked, rubbing his eyes and stumbling out of bed.
"We are!" Arik grinned, so proud of himself that he was bursting at the seams.
Blaze snorted. "Okay, okay," he muttered, good-naturedly. He went to the bathroom, hurried through his business, and snagged all the tiny bottles of shampoo, mouthwash, lotion, and conditioner that were left. He got the body wash and the bars of soap, too, and was prepared to explain to Arik that, yes, he was a mooch, but at least he was a clean mooch.
When Blaze came out of the bathroom, however, Arik was dumping an entire basket of freebies into his own bag. "Oh." A blush rose on Arik's cheeks when he was caught in the act. "I, ah, had them bring up some extra? In case you ... I just thought I'd ..." The blush darkened.
"Cool. Thanks." Blaze hurried to his own bag, unzipping it and shoving his prizes inside. His blood felt thick in his veins, and too warm, like he might burst out of his own skin. He was in a dream he couldn't shake. And such a small gesture shouldn't have meant so much, but it did. Arik was sweet. Entirely too sweet for the likes of—
"You okay?"
Blaze paused in the act of pulling out a rolled t-shirt and similarly packed pair of shorts. "Yeah," he said. "Fine. Why?"
Arik hesitated. "Nothing I just—good God." He peered into Blaze's bag. "Are those clothes? How did you pack that much into... You really do know magic."
Blaze chuckled. His bag was divided into compartments, his clothing rolled into tight knots and flat layers and the rest of his possessions stowed away in the most economical way possible. "Well, it's sort of my house, I guess. I keep it in order."
"It's your what?"
"It's all I own. This is everything, so ..." Blaze trailed off, fighting anxiety and melancholy tooth and nail. He thought how pitiful it must seem to Arik, his existence. How fleeting. And Blaze wanted to tell Arik that his life had been anything but short. Old habits stilled the words, killed them in his throat, because it was too soon to tell Arik that kind of truth. And Blaze had to slay the desire to stay in this hotel, wrapped up in Arik. He needed to destroy that kind of sentiment, because it'd be too damned easy for the happiness to remind Arik of all he'd lost and all he craved and how amazing it'd be if Blaze could mend and have even a portion of peace with Arik.
Ridiculous. Stupid. Impossible.
Irresponsible. Silly.
Dangerous.
Quit it.
"Hey ..." Arik rubbed Blaze's arm.
Blaze shook himself and, subsequently, Arik's hold. "Where we headed?" he asked.
"Just another place to stay that might be a little quieter. Always wanted to go there, but never had the chance or ... Someone to take with me, so. Yeah."
Blaze nodded, yanked on his shorts, shirt, and shoes, and zipped up his bag. "Okay, then. Lead on."
Arik lingered, studying Blaze with intensity that Blaze answered with an easy, practiced smile, and Arik lead them out of the room, muttering to himself. At least the man was learning not to keep every thought in his own head.
Checkout and the walk to the car were a blur. The weather was bright, tranquil, and pleasantly warm, the leather seat of the car was perfectly cushioned, and Blaze turned on the heater under his ass. Before they'd even made it onto the Interstate, Blaze was dozing, and when he woke up, Arik was humming along to the Rolling Stones on satellite radio. They were out of the city, well out of it, by the looks of the sandy, scrubby surroundings.
"We're headed to the water," Blaze said, sitting up and trying to stretch kinks out of his spine.
"We are." Arik's grin was irritatingly smug.
"How long have I been out?"
"Couple hours."
Blaze rubbed his face. He was starting to wonder if all those times he thought he'd been getting good rest were all a sham. He couldn't remember being this tired or this relaxed, and that worried him for a multitude of reasons. It never paid to get comfortable. "Why are we changing locales?"
"Because I wanted to treat you. And me, I guess."
Arik's profile was smooth and easy. There was no pinch of features, no circles under his eyes, no worry lines drawing down his mouth. "Okay," Blaze said, seizing the element of surprise. "Did you have a Vision?"
"No," Arik said, frowning at Blaze.
"Have you had one since the goat incident?"
"No." Arik's hands flexed on the wheel. "Why are we talking about—"
"What are we doing, Arik?"
"We're going to a resort, Blaze," Arik answered, mimicking Blaze's tone. Blaze hoped to hell he didn't sound that annoying, but he probably did.
"It's a nice place that I've known about for years. Always wanted to go, never had the chance, figured I'd take this one. We've got to get to a ferry, park in a long-term lot, cross the water, and get to Alana Island. A car'll pick us up there and take us to the hotel. It's on an underdeveloped part of the shoreline, surrounded by oaks and wild horses, and what is up with you today?"
"What?"
"You heard me." Arik kept glancing Blaze's way, and he turned off the radio. "Did you have a Vision?"
"No." Blaze crossed his arms. "Not had one since ..."
"Since?"
"Since I envisioned you fucking me right before I blew you that day we went to play mini golf."
Arik hummed, hands slipping around the steering wheel until his wrists rested on his knees. "Were you bent over in front of me? Letting me hold your arms behind you?"
Blaze's cock had no business stirring, but it did, and a jolt of warmth zinged down his spine, the echoes rippling through him. "Yeah. How did you know?"
"Had the same one. Or, well, for me it was more like a dream."
"You seem awfully calm about sharing dreams for a guy who hates the mystical."
"Oh, I hate the mystical, all right."
"... but?"
Arik shrugged. "Right now, it just supports my theory, which is nice, for a change."
"Theory?" Panic sprang up and rattled Blaze's heart. He couldn't have said why. "What theory?"
"Of why we're together and what this 'Quest' of yours is all about."
"Oh, think you've got it figured, do you?" Blaze's palms were sweating.
"Ayup."
"Let's hear it."
"Well, you were the one who said it first, really. The whole, 'here for you' bit?"
"It's a line I've used a lot, Arik," Blaze said. Normally Blaze would never remind a target that there had been others before him and would be more after him. Blaze didn't know why he was trying to scramble for emotional ground and distance, useless as it was inside the confines of a Quest, but scrambling he was, and he had to fight the urge to jump out of the car.
