True Colors

by Clare London

  “Uh-huh.” Zeke felt his heartbeat speed up again, but not from anger this time. His thoughts were on Miles’ voice; his hands; the musky sweetness of his flesh, taken eagerly into his mouth; the tart, sticky come splashing against his taste buds. Miles had been around night after night, and Zeke was compiling a whole portfolio of those memories. Of clothes wrenched off, of mouths meeting, and always the heat and the groans and that fabulous body under his hands….

  A hell of a time it had been!

  “So maybe the time has come to move on,” he murmured. He ignored Miles’ shocked expression, hurrying on. “To something more, I mean. Do we want more, Miles?”

  They were just staring at each other. Zeke’s breathing sounded too loud to him in the deserted gallery. But then, so did Miles’. He moved back a step. Miles moved forward two, closing the gap.

  Zeke remembered Miles’ fingers, gentle yet questing behind his aching balls, each time moving that little bit farther toward his entrance, ghosting gently and teasingly over the protected, sensitive skin. He remembered arching in Miles’ arms, caressing his ass in return—running his own speculative fingers between the tight buttocks. When he brushed against the shockingly gorgeous puckered flesh that he found there….

  Miles was watching him, smiling again.

  Yeah. They both wanted more of that.

  Zeke felt as if he were panting, like some kind of hungry animal. He felt very hot. He wondered if the guys had locked the front door behind them, or whether there was still a chance someone might walk in and disturb them. He really didn’t want that to happen right now. He was so close to Miles that he reckoned he could have slipped out his tongue and licked at the trail of teeth marks he’d left just below Miles’ sharp shoulder blade, only two nights ago….

  His lips twitched, his mouth filling with the taste of desire.

  “You said it,” Miles whispered. He didn’t need to say anything else. Their whole bodies communicated with silent cries of need.

  “Only us here now,” murmured Zeke. He gazed deliberately at Miles’ mouth. His tongue slid out of his own mouth and licked swiftly at his lips. “You going to do anything about it, then? After all, you’re—”

  “The owner of the whole fucking place?” Miles quoted back at him. He grinned openly at Zeke now, eyes wide and shining. “Get upstairs,” he growled. “I want to do something about it, all right. And I want to do it now.”

  Zeke turned and almost ran for the door up to his apartment.

  Chapter 7

  MILES was moments behind Zeke as they staggered through the door to Zeke’s bedroom. He pushed Zeke into the room and up against the wall, cutting off Zeke’s shaky laughter with a fierce, clumsy kiss. He knew his mouth was greedy; his tongue probed, his teeth nipped at Zeke’s swollen lips. Zeke didn’t resist; in fact he grabbed back at Miles, inviting it. Miles ran his hand under Zeke’s shirt, stretching it forcibly up to his shoulders, trying to get to bare skin. As he peeled it off, Zeke tugged at Miles’ waistband, tugging his dress shirt out of his pants, scraping the tight muscle in his eagerness.

  “I want you,” Miles groaned. “Like this.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Zeke’s naked torso, off the tightening muscles. His throat hurt and his voice rasped. “Want you.”

  “I’ve wanted you for longer,” gasped Zeke, like it was some kind of contest. “Just been waiting.”

  “What for?” There was an ominous tearing noise. Miles realized he was being a little too aggressive with Zeke’s clothes.

  “To see what you thought about it. What you wanted. With me.” Zeke twisted his body away from the wall, stumbling back toward the bed. He dragged Miles with him, though Miles went more than willingly, his mouth reaching for Zeke’s all the way, his hands touching and grasping and sliding away in frustration when his awkward steps unbalanced him. He pulled off his necktie, loosening his shirt, his hands impatient. When a button bounced off into the corner of the room, he cursed. Zeke just laughed.

  Over recent nights they had spent long, sensual times undressing each other slowly; caressing each part of the body as it was uncovered; savoring the gradual exposure.

  Tonight, Miles felt as if they’d melt away if they didn’t get naked in the next forty-five seconds. He watched as Zeke shrugged out of his jeans and boxers, kicking them to the side, ripping off his boots and socks.

  Naked. Oh my God.

  Miles grabbed for him, and Zeke grunted, reaching for Miles’ clothes, pushing back playfully. It was Miles’ turn to fall backward, onto the bed. He sat down suddenly with his pants around his ankles and Zeke’s hand still trapped inside his boxers.

  Zeke’s laugh was short and excited, and it echoed Miles’ feelings perfectly. He gazed hopefully up at Zeke, and then Zeke dropped onto the bed beside him. Perfect. Miles held him close, kissing him, pressing up against that gloriously nude body, thrusting nipple to chest, warm groin to shivering thigh. His boxers went the way of all the other clothes, kicked and thrown to one side. Now Miles was naked as well, and his cock was hot and thick and free, tugging impatiently at its bed of dark curls. It reared out, seeking contact, brushing against Zeke’s equally swollen shaft.

  Miles groaned.

  “Fuck, that’s good,” gasped Zeke.

  “I want you… hold you… here,” Miles gasped, trying to make a more coherent sentence and failing. He reached down with a fumbling hand and folded it around the two aching cocks, holding them together. Zeke’s hand came to meet his, sliding his warm, slim fingers on top of Miles’. They began to pump in tandem, kissing clumsily, their bodies clutched together as the bedclothes creased in chaos beneath them.

  Miles felt the heat coiling up inside him, far too quickly. He’d never had so little control of himself as when he was with Zeke. His groin ached and his cock was slippery, leaking pre-come, the skin stretched tightly over it. Zeke’s foreskin wrinkled against his own, an astonishing delight, the sheath catching his as he pumped. He felt himself swelling even further, desperate for the increasing pressure of their fingers on each other, encouraging, caressing, cajoling, begging for completion. He wasn’t entirely sure anymore where the flesh of his cock ended and Zeke’s began. His stomach slid with sweat against Zeke’s; their thighs tangled in a muscular mess half on and half off the bed. His free arm grabbed at whatever skin he could find, both to caress and to anchor himself against the enthusiastic rocking of their hips.

  “Wait,” gasped Zeke.

  The hell I can.

  “Wait!” he cried again, until Miles forced himself to listen over the rushing in his ears. “I’ll come. Too soon… remember? Want more….”

  Miles felt his hand gripped and his fingers pried off their precious target. He could feel the pulse of blood in his cock; feel the answering hammering in his chest. His hand felt numb and the palm was slick with pre-come.

  Zeke wriggled awkwardly out of his grasp, the soft sucking sound of their flesh sliding away from each other. Miles thought he groaned in protest. He hoped he showed more dignity than that, but he doubted it.

  “Zeke… come back.”

  “Hush, Miles,” came the throaty chuckle. The bed rocked and creaked, and Zeke rolled over so that he was facing away. He hitched himself up onto his hands and knees and peered back over one shoulder at Miles. His hair was tousled and clung to his neck and cheek. His eyes were bright, the pupils dilated.

  “Take me, Miles,” he whispered. “Put those hot, wet hands on my ass and take me. Now.”

  Time felt suspended, for sharp, precious seconds. Then Miles remembered to breathe again. He knelt up behind Zeke’s ass, a strong, fine ass, which he’d caressed many times. He loved the feel of the muscle here, the taut skin; the soft hairs between Zeke’s thighs.

  His fingers ran firmly over the shape of the buttocks and the muscles clenched. Zeke’s back arched under his touch, and his head stretched back; his thighs instinctively opened a little wider. There was a dark, intimate valley between the cheeks of his ass: there was pinker skin,
and sparser hairs, and the promise of something impossibly exciting, earth-shatteringly sexual. He heard Zeke moan, followed by soft murmurs of encouragement. And impatience.

  Miles hesitated, breathing heavily.

  “There’s stuff in the drawer, Miles,” Zeke gasped. “Condoms… lube. Is that what you want?”

  “I want you,” groaned Miles. “Do you believe me, Zeke?”

  Zeke looked back over his shoulder again, his brow furrowed. He glanced down at what he could see of Miles’ swollen cock: at the glistening purple tip; at the softly throbbing pulse.

  “Guess I do,” he said, breathlessly, with a rather twisted grin. “So what’s the problem?”

  Miles struggled with the words. He struggled with a hell of a lot more than that. He’d never seen anything as gorgeous as Zeke’s ass spread out before him, offered to him. He reached out for Zeke, stroking him, reassuring himself with the touch of warm, willing flesh.

  Zeke’s breath hitched suddenly. “You’ve never done it before,” he said, softly. “With a guy. Have you?”

  Miles flushed. How could he answer that? “Fooled around,” he gasped. He was swamped with miserable, debilitating shock. His head swam, his body felt suddenly, humiliatingly paralyzed. “Never actually….”

  “It’s okay, Miles.” Zeke’s voice was gentle, so different from his usual boldness. He shifted a little on the bed, slipping away from Miles’ petrified touch. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I want you,” repeated Miles, as if he were in a daze. He felt Zeke leaving him; pulling away. This wasn’t going to happen, after all, was it? The promise; the anticipation; the need….

  But Zeke was murmuring to him, his face sympathetic, still smiling. “Hey, man. That doesn’t mean I’m letting you off. Just means we’ll go a little slower, okay? You happy with top? Or would you rather go bottom…?”

  Miles tensed up, involuntarily.

  Zeke chuckled. “Another day for that, I think,” he murmured. “And bottom’s always great for me.” He shifted again, this time turning fully to face Miles, and sitting back on his heels so that they were of equal height. His hands cupped Miles’ face and his lips ghosted gently against Miles’ frozen ones. Miles melted under his touch, passing his own harsh, panting breath back into Zeke’s mouth.

  “Let me lead,” Zeke whispered. “I want you inside me. Fucking me. I want to show you how good it can be. Let me, Miles.”

  Miles ached all over, both with need and this strange, overwhelmingly sensual fear. He couldn’t have protested, even if he’d wanted. Zeke’s hands stroked him slowly, across his shoulders, down along his sides. It was stimulating; it was comforting. Zeke murmured nonsense into Miles’ ear; he breathed warmth into Miles’ body. He kissed him, often and passionately. He moved like a river flowed, like smoke enfolded. Miles couldn’t dismiss the fanciful, unbidden pictures in his mind. He was lost to it all. Zeke knelt in front of him and slid his hands across Miles’ chest; and then he was behind him, rubbing his chin on his shoulder blades, and tracing down the shape of Miles’ backbone with his rough tongue.

  How did he move like that?

  How had he, Miles, lost the ability to judge time and distance in this way? His head swam. He felt increasing heat along his veins, and the promise of even greater pleasure shivering in his groin. His cock was thick and heavy, bobbing at his belly, his balls damp with sweat between his legs. His skin felt gently peeled away from his bones; his nerves were exposed and panting for attention.

  When would it happen? What would he do?

  He cursed every second that Zeke kept him waiting, and yet he had no choice but to leave Zeke entirely in charge. He had never felt so adrift before; so disconnected from his own body and his actions.

  Zeke reached out from the bed and pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand. Then he was back, caressing Miles, kissing him, stroking him, distracting him deliciously. When Zeke finally put a confident hand back on Miles’ cock, Miles shuddered with the delight of the strong, supple fingers caressing him. Zeke chuckled, and then started to roll a condom onto Miles’s shaft, smoothing soft, cool lube along its length.

  “You… what about—?”

  Zeke sighed softly. “Miles, I can see to myself.” Miles saw him toss a small, open tube away from him, down beside the bed. It fell with a gentle clatter onto the bare boards. His other hand was busy at his hips, between his legs. Miles couldn’t see clearly what he was doing, and maybe Zeke didn’t want him to. Not yet. Zeke leaned back over and kissed him, his tongue hot and slick in Miles’ mouth. Miles saw and felt nothing but a mess of desire and lust. He knew now—of course he did—that nothing would stop him from taking Zeke tonight. Not his nerves; not his inexperience.

  Nothing!

  “Now,” he rasped.

  “Who’s arguing?” grunted Zeke, and the last expression Miles saw was his grin as he rolled back to his position on all fours, wriggling up against Miles’ groin. This time, Miles pressed firmly up against him. He put his hands on Zeke’s buttocks and peeled them apart, running his finger wonderingly against the glistening, newly lubricated hole.

  “Jesus, Miles, I’m beyond want here….” Zeke spoke with a gargled mixture of anger and amusement and his own, urgent need. Miles smiled, more confident now, and eager beyond belief. He slid his cock along the crease, over Zeke’s puckered skin. Then he started to push it into the tight, muscled entrance.

  Zeke groaned.

  Miles nudged the swollen crown in, gripping Zeke’s hips to give him purchase. Amazed; fascinated; unbearably excited, he watched the pucker open almost reluctantly and then swallow him gratefully as he pushed on in.

  Zeke groaned again, a deep, guttural noise. His legs and arms tensed up, holding himself rigid, and then his hips relaxed back into the hollow made by Miles’ body. Miles pushed again, sinking deeper. He was rewarded with the sensual pleasure of his warm, painfully clenched balls slapping against the back of Zeke’s thighs.

  “Okay?” he gasped.

  Zeke laughed, but it was cut off on a moan. “Okay.”

  Miles pushed again, easing himself inside, withdrawing a little then sliding back in. “Incredible….”

  “Uh-huh.” Zeke wriggled against him, gingerly. He was panting too. “Preaching to the converted, you know? Just….”

  “Huh?”

  “Just… get going, okay? Start moving, or I’m going to come all over the sheets before you get anywhere close.”

  So Miles moved. He slid himself gently out again, and then plunged back in. He gasped at the sharp, squeezing hold that Zeke had on him, and praised the cool lube that allowed him to thrust in and out of Zeke’s ass. Which he did—again and again. His hips began to slap against Zeke’s flesh, and his upper body sagged over Zeke’s back with the effort.

  Their skin was slick with sweat, and he slid easily back and forth against Zeke. He could hear Zeke grumbling, not knowing whether it was from frustration or anger or eagerness. The vibration of his voice ran along Miles’ chest and across his own, parched throat. He tried to reach under the other man’s body to caress his cock—to give him some attention—but Zeke grunted and batted his hand away.

  “Concentrate on what you’re doing.” He was panting loudly, moaning with each thrust of Miles’ cock into him. “Just… for you.” So Miles continued to grip, to pump into him, feeling his senses catch fire, and slowly and inexorably losing any vestige of control that he’d ever had. Underneath him, Zeke dropped his weight onto one elbow so that he could reach a hand to his neglected cock and bring himself off.

  “So… fucking hot….”

  Miles nodded, though he knew Zeke couldn’t see it. What the hell else could he do but agree? It was the most fantastic thing he’d ever known.

  “Tell me, Miles,” came an excited gasp from beneath Zeke’s bowed head, his body rocking against Miles’ increasingly deep thrusts. “Tell me how it feels.”

  God.

  Miles had never spoken during sex, except for obvio
us requests to make it more comfortable or perhaps to whisper an endearment. He wondered if he should have expected this to be different with Zeke; so many things were. Zeke talked a lot, of course, when he wasn’t drawing. He talked while they necked, and he talked while they jerked each other off, and he talked….

  Well, he obviously talked through sex too.

  “It’s… incredible. I can’t say….” Miles could feel his tongue swelling, his lips drying. Was it so fantastic because it was his first experience with a male body? Or because it was Zeke? His brain wasn’t operating with any degree of objectivity. He cast any sensible thought aside, and gladly. He was approaching climax, he knew, and he was only holding off for this long because he just truly wanted this experience to last for the whole goddamned year….

  “You feel fantastic,” Zeke hissed. “Thick… filling me. Your skin’s slick…. I want you, hard as you want, deep as you want… shit….” He groaned, and Miles felt the body underneath him shaking uncontrollably. He held on more tightly, feeling the muscles of Zeke’s ass clenching almost painfully around him.

  “Close,” Zeke moaned. “Close. Losing it, Miles. Shit… never felt so good….” He suddenly arched his back again and slammed back against Miles. His free hand clutched desperately at the bedclothes as he tried to support himself upright. Miles tightened an arm around Zeke’s waist to hold him and felt him shudder and jerk as he came. Miles felt the shockwaves through his own body, as if they were coming from within his limbs and flesh, as if it were his own cock throbbing and bursting inside his hand. He imagined the hot, creamy liquid spilling out on the sheets and onto Zeke’s legs. He cried out himself, and knew he couldn’t hold out any longer.

  “Incredible…” was the only word he could stutter out from his tortured lips.

  “Works for me,” came Zeke’s soft, hoarse reply. He was panting, his hips set firmly back almost on Miles’ lap. Miles felt buried inside him, part of him, so deeply and so tightly he feared he’d never be able to withdraw. “Come for me now, Miles. You must….”