by Clare London
He wanted to taste Miles Winter, and pretend for a few seconds that he was his.
“That’s nonsense.” Had Miles read his thoughts? Or was he just replying from earlier…? “Nonsense from your own mouth, Zeke Roswell.”
“And so…,” murmured Zeke, as he leaned forward to kiss him, “is this.”
Chapter 6
HOW long had they been touching like this?
Miles stirred on the couch, full of hazy astonishment. Zeke had pushed him down, gently but firmly, and now he was stretched out on top of Miles, his lips at Miles’ neck, suckling softly. Miles couldn’t believe how excited he was—how loudly his heart hammered, how rasping his breaths were. He felt disorientated and there was a rushing noise in his ears. Every nerve he possessed appeared to be strained to the limit, waiting; anticipating. Zeke’s hands were all over him. They stroked at his chest, plucked at his clothing. They peeled his sweater up and over his shoulders.
Miles shivered, but not from the cold.
Zeke was staring at his naked chest, and sucked in an appreciative breath. He ran a slow, teasing finger down the trail of hairs running from between Miles’ nipples, down to his belly. Miles couldn’t prevent his muscles tightening instinctively at the touch, but he saw Zeke’s eyes widen with pleasure. His gaze continued, down to Miles’ lap.
Then he grinned.
God. Miles knew how obvious he must look. Under the restrictive linen fabric of his pants, his cock was rock hard and straining to be freed. He knew he was more aroused by Zeke Roswell than he’d ever thought he could be. Everything in the past was a sham, was now mocking him. His lukewarm response to Remy’s fondling; the brief escapades he’d had when he’d been out with Red; the frenetic scene of parties and clubs and appointments with gorgeous young bodies of all shapes, sizes, and genders—if he’d wanted them. He’d rarely acted on it. The mere promise had made him feel alive in a way nothing else did.
Until now.
He wished he knew what Zeke expected, what Zeke wanted. He didn’t know if it’d be the same as his own desires. The unfamiliar nervousness made him angry on top of his thundering need.
Zeke sat up in front of him and lifted his own shirt over his head. For a moment his hand strayed down to his waistband, as if he wanted to shed the pants as well. Miles stared up at the smooth tanned skin that he’d admired before, that he’d wanted to touch. It was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, which glittered in the dying candlelight. Miles didn’t know whether Zeke was too hot, or nervous as well, or what. The shadows from the fading light glanced off the planes of Zeke’s chest, and danced across his well-muscled torso. He had only a sprinkling of dark hair on his chest and belly, a shade darker than the hair on his head. His fingers teased at a curl of it that peeped out from the top of his sweats.
Miles nearly groaned aloud. The semi-nudity was incredibly erotic. The desire to touch grew inside him like a hungry parasite. He felt consumed by it.
Zeke was still staring at Miles’ imprisoned erection. “This is where I ask you if you want some help with that,” he joked. His voice cracked a little on the words.
“That’s a little corny, isn’t it?” gasped Miles. He felt embarrassment threatening. What was he supposed to do? What was the right thing? He saw Zeke’s gaze fixed fiercely on his groin, felt the thread of memory of their last kiss still on his lips. The firm touch, the hunger he thought he could taste in return. And underneath him, the cushions of the couch were so soft that he thought he might sink in and never reemerge.
“Corny. I guess so.” Zeke sighed in reply. But he sounded amused, not regretful. His hand still ghosted around his pants, and as Miles watched, he hooked a thumb in over the elastic waistband. “How’s about I just tell you how much I want to go down on you? How much I want to suck your thick cock, and feel it throbbing and swelling between my lips? How much I want you fucking my mouth with it, to feel the taste of your come spitting out on my tongue?”
Miles had heard plenty of dirty talk in his life, and he’d thought he was no easy man to shock. But he barely recognized the animalistic moan that was wrenched from him.
Zeke’s eyes flashed with excitement and probably triumph. He slid off the couch completely, and dropped to his knees beside Miles’ hip. His hands were swift and efficient with the zipper of Miles’ pants; the expensive fabric was dragged open, and the waistband of the silk boxers underneath tugged down. Miles’ aching cock was pulled impatiently from its clothing, circled briefly by Zeke’s eager fingers.
“God…,” Miles gasped. The fresh air of the room was chill against his heated skin. His cock bobbed heavily and eagerly outward from his groin, desperately seeking attention. Zeke’s fingers slid down the shaft, cupping his balls possessively. Then his other hand slid back up over the crown, spreading a thin trail of pre-come in its wake. Miles bucked his hips, thrusting hungrily into the touch. And then the fingers were gone, and there was something else warm and firm teasing his arousal, flicking its tip into his slit and sipping at the leaking drops. Zeke’s tongue; Zeke’s mouth, caressing him. It was gorgeously warm, lapping around the rim, following the trail of the vein, making Miles thrust up again, straining to reach more of it.
He thought the begging in his head might have slipped out aloud. Was that why Zeke was laughing so softly? His breath warmed the curls at Miles’ groin.
“So good,” Zeke murmured. “Rich. Tasty, you know…?” But the words were muffled as he gradually drew more of Miles’ cock into his mouth and started to suck.
Miles thought his skin would burst. He didn’t know it was possible to be so swollen with desire. His cock felt scorching hot, and his blood raced around his body like a wailing banshee. His sight was blurred, and his groin ached all over; he gripped so hard at the cushions underneath him that he thought the fabric would tear. The edge of his zipper scratched at his thighs, and the linen was bunched uncomfortably around the top of his legs. He just ignored all of it. When he arched his hips up to thrust into Zeke’s mouth, the other man’s hands came down sharply against him, pressing his hips fiercely back onto the couch. Zeke’s mouth was the one doing the thrusting.
“Soon,” Miles whispered warningly.
Zeke chuckled again. He sucked with enthusiasm and obvious pleasure. When he shifted his head to concentrate on the other side of Miles’ cock, Miles could see the thin trail of saliva dribbling down his chin. Miles blinked hard, trying desperately to clear his sight, to waste not a second of this experience. But Zeke’s head slid slowly up and down, driving him crazy, his licking loud and greedy, his mouth nuzzling closer and closer up to Miles’ pubic hairs. Miles shuddered, and Zeke laughed at this evidence of a swiftly vanishing control; it was a low, humming laugh, reverberating around the already painfully sensitive flesh of Miles’ cock. “Yeah. I see that. Very soon….”
Miles groaned loudly, unable to hold it back. Shivers of anticipation rippled across his exposed flesh. He’d never had a blow job like it; he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever thought one had satisfied him before. He had a fleeting memory of Remy in a similar position, but elegantly spitting out a stray drop of seed that had reached her lips when she hadn’t pulled away soon enough. He saw long-nailed fingers reaching rather distastefully for a tissue; he recalled his own pitiful disinterest.
This was so different that it rocked his world.
“Come for me,” said Zeke, his voice low and chocolate-rich, his lips shaping the words around Miles’ cock. “Miles… fuck….”
Miles obeyed without question, his body arching up uncontrollably, and his hips slamming against Zeke’s chin. In the brief second of clarity before the climax spun reason right out of his head, he realized he should have checked whether Zeke would swallow or whether he should have withdrawn. Then it was too late. He came—gloriously, fiercely, intensely. It all burst out of him, spurting, looping, spilling into Zeke’s mouth. He couldn’t stop his hands embedding themselves into the curly head buried in his groin, tangling themselves in the thick, sof
t hair, and forcing himself even deeper into Zeke’s luscious mouth. He swallowed a sob. Would he ever experience anything that sweetly sharp again?
“Ouch.” Zeke slipped his mouth off Miles’ cock, still laughing softly, though Miles couldn’t hear any offense in it. But he quickly let go of Zeke’s hair. His mouth was dry, his heartbeat still racing. His cock was still throbbing with the aftershock of ecstasy and his legs trembled as if he’d been overstraining at the gym.
“So good,” murmured Zeke.
Miles grinned. That would have to do as his reply. Then he collapsed back into the soft sanctuary of the cushions.
ZEKE knelt on the floor, his heart hammering with excitement, his lips a little numb.
God dammit!
He couldn’t remember ever having such a good time, ever having a man like Miles. Why was that so amazing?
The man he’d just sucked to orgasm was lying there on Zeke’s couch, panting, a shocked smile on his face. He was naked to the waist, with his legs spread as wide as he could reach, stretching the material of his designer pants. The clothing was sweat-soaked and wrinkled around his thighs. Must feel clammy; awkward. But Miles wasn’t moving away. Zeke could see threads of his saliva glinting in the hair at Miles’ groin, and he thought there might still be the imprint of his fingers on the taut skin of Miles’ hips. It all made his own groin throb with need. Miles’ cock was hanging out from his open fly, relaxing back down to its usual size. It nestled against the crumpled material of his boxers, cocooned against his leg. It looked damp.
The ache to touch him again was so strong that Zeke groaned aloud.
He leaned back, his legs cramping with the tension. There was barely any light from the candle now. Reflections from the city buildings outside arced through the wide studio window, lighting patches of the floor and table.
“My turn,” he whispered.
Miles stirred again and focused on him. His smile was warm; pleased.
Zeke smiled back. He slid out his tongue to lick gently at his lower lip, collecting a stray drop of come. He watched Miles’ widening eyes, so dark, so delicious. Zeke pulled his sweats down to his knees, wriggling them down and off his ankles. Miles was watching every movement, his face flushing.
No underwear. See?
Zeke grinned. He knelt there, stark naked, savoring Miles’ reactions. His cock jutted out, heavy and hot with need, and the weight in his shifting balls was a thick, warming ache between his thighs. Miles’ eyes flickered to the tattoo on Zeke’s hip.
Zeke shrugged, blushing, surprised at his own shyness. “It was for a dare, you know?”
“An artist’s palette.” Miles could apparently only manage a whisper.
Zeke nodded and ran his fingers along his hip, tracing the shape of the tattoo, nestled a couple of inches from his cock: a small palette-shaped outline with a slim paintbrush threaded through it. “You like it?”
Miles’ answer was nothing but a moan, and Zeke laughed, delighted. “That works for me. Just relax, okay?” Pleased with the fascination he saw on Miles’ face, he folded his hand tightly around his cock and started to stroke himself. Steady and slow. Slow. He sucked in a breath. God, it was good. The excitement of sucking off Miles, the smell and touch of the other man’s body, the fierce concentration in those fabulous eyes….
“Zeke, wait.”
“Can’t,” he growled. “Got to see to this before I disgrace myself up against your leg like a rutting dog.”
Miles had struggled to sit up. “Don’t,” he gasped. “I… I want to do that.”
Zeke was startled. “You don’t have to.” But he found his whole body leaning toward Miles. Please….
Miles wriggled around, hindered by the awkwardness of his half-undone pants, until he was lying on the couch again. This time his head was at Zeke’s groin. He reached out a hand and slid it behind Zeke’s ass, tugging the lower body in closer. Zeke sucked in an excited breath, his muscles clenching at Miles’ touch. His cock reared out from his body, thick and blood-red with his need. It nudged against Miles’ nose and was met with a soft moan.
“Miles, if you don’t want….”
But Miles’ fingers gripped him harder. “Your smell. Your taste. God… so good.”
Zeke groaned. He brushed the tip of his cock across Miles’ lips, and felt the answering lap of his tongue. They both shifted to get into a better position, and Miles’ strokes became longer and stronger.
Zeke was whimpering like a baby. He wasn’t particularly proud of that, but it was all too much to resist. Miles dragged his tongue up and down the shaft, and at the end of each upstroke, he slipped his lips over the top, just capturing the hot, leaking crown in his mouth. Then he licked back down to the root, his tongue flickering underneath, catching the crinkled skin of Zeke’s balls and tickling the skin where his inner thigh met his groin.
“Fuck, Miles, but you know what to do with that tongue.” Zeke flung his right hand out to grab at the arm of the couch, to anchor himself somehow. His knees shook underneath him, barely holding him still. His torso bent forward over Miles’ body, and his head dropped down so he could watch. The pulse in his forehead throbbed and his heartbeat raced faster and faster. Miles’ arm pressed against his hip, holding him tight, his other hand still resting on Zeke’s ass. Breathless, Zeke watched Miles’ dark head bobbing at his groin. The tongue rasped gently up and down his cock, teasing the skin up, and the pre-come down, then repeating the torture again and again.
Then Miles lifted his head, looking up at Zeke from under his tousled hair. Zeke felt his whole body tense. Miles’ eyes reflected ocean blueness with the black of rock: his top lip was swollen, a startling red against his face. Below that lip, his tongue laved at Zeke’s straining cock, strong and hungry, caressing him like a succulent dish.
God.
Zeke had never seen anything so erotic in his life. He knew in that very second that he was completely undone. He felt things inside him unraveling, the threads racing away throughout his veins and nerves, so swiftly that he stood no chance at all of keeping control. His body convulsed as if electricity ran through it, and he shouted aloud with ecstatic, agonizing surrender. The rush of his climax hurtled down through every conduit of his body and into his cock. Even as Miles’ mouth slid away from the jerking shaft, the come burst out of him, a thick, glutinous stream that spilled out in a short arc and spattered all over Miles’ mouth and chin, dribbling on down his neck.
Zeke shivered; he shook all over. It felt like he teetered on the edge of a cliff. He knew he grabbed out at Miles, but he hoped the soft folds inside his clenched fist were the couch cloth, rather than Miles’ skin. But if he let go—he knew it for certain—he’d fall over this virtual cliff, and his body would smash to bones and blood at the bottom of an equally virtual ravine. The waves of his climax kept swamping him, buffeting him; his body kept shuddering. The churning in his stomach felt like he was already falling, and he was suddenly terrified he’d be sick.
And then the madness was passing, and he could hear his breathing again, although it was harsh and loud. He relaxed his hand, the fingers painfully tight against his palm, and he focused back down on Miles.
“Miles?” It sounded like a question, but he really wanted to know if he still had the power of speech. And maybe just to hear Miles’ name, to see if it sounded different, now….
Now that they’d come over each other.
“Zeke?”
Miles was grinning back at him, damned, smug bastard! Zeke wanted to look irritated but his own smile wouldn’t let him. The man gazing back up at him was fucking gorgeous. Miles’ skin was that deeply flushed crimson that Zeke had only seen so far under the open collar of his shirt. His hair was messy, and there were tufts of it stuck with sweat over his forehead. The depths of his eyes seemed to be swirling more like a whirlpool than the steady ocean of before. He lay back on the couch, naked to the waist, staring at Zeke’s reactions with a satisfied pleasure, and nursing the rather obvious signs of
a returning erection. His hand lay on his thigh, the flushed skin contrasting with the light material of his deeply creased pants, his fingers teasing at his twitching cock. Such a thick, rich, tasty cock. Zeke’s taste buds whimpered in memory of it.
Zeke also saw the glimmering trails of his come over the firm line of Miles’ jaw, and plenty more over the soft pulse of his throat. He felt suddenly uneasy. What was the guy going to say to that?
Miles didn’t actually say anything. He moved his jaw gently, as if he were testing its mobility. Then he lifted his other hand, dipped a finger into the pool of seed under his chin, and brought it to his mouth. Zeke watched, fascinated, as Miles pressed the finger into his pursed lips; as the tip of his tongue licked at the residue and sucked it inside.
Zeke shivered with delight.
“A pearl necklace, Miles,” he murmured. His voice sounded hoarse; he knew his smile was shaky. “That’s what they call it. Can’t say I don’t give you gifts, eh?”
Miles grimaced, but was still smiling. “Sticky.”
“Uh-huh.” Zeke nodded and grinned. His whole body felt hot again; the pulse was thrumming through him. It had been a long, long time since he’d been so excited. Miles’ flushed skin; the pale. shining spots of come all over him. Zeke struggled to find enough breath to banter. “So you want me to apologize for my poor aim…?” Then he caught sight of Miles’ expression, and he shut up.
“No apologies.” Miles still managed somehow to sound stern. “No jokes.”
“Hey, I just—”
“Clean it off, Zeke,” he growled.
Zeke’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Miles stretched gently and languidly, and a dribble of come trickled down his neck.
“Lick me clean.”
MILES woke from his doze. He groaned a little, stretching out his cramped left leg. Zeke lay heavily against his chest. The pair of them were still tangled together on the couch, Zeke completely naked and Miles with only one leg of his boxers hanging from his ankle. Zeke’s cleaning task had been hot and impossibly exciting, and Miles’ erection had swelled again, faster than either of them could quite believe. Then Zeke had laughed, reaching for him, to squeeze and stroke and pump lasciviously…. Dammit, he’d barely had enough time to kick off his pants, and free his legs.
